Week Six

The word “patience” gets passed around a lot these days….

Why do I feel the need to explain myself for taking so long to continue this saga? Well. For starters, I began this record by titling each of my posts as “Week 1”, “Week 2”, etc…a clear indication that I might write on a weekly basis. But this was a ruse. It’s been three months. Last time I wrote for this you could watch “Grandfathered” on Fox. The world is a different place.

I’d like to say I got writer’s block. I didn’t. I’m full of great ideas. Idea #1: an IV drip that fills your system with water while you sleep so you can just drink coffee all day and not worry about stomach cancer. Idea #2: Three words – Real. Lego. Houses.

You can purchase these or any of my other great ideas for a small fee. I have a paypal account I never use.

Clearly, this isn’t because I have writer’s block. Remember when I said these stories write themselves? I never said that?

Adele: Part 2

So I’ll continue with this story without addressing the long duration in which I did not continue and kindly remind you of my buddy…Adele. Here’s a brief clipping from my previous post regarding Adele:

He is from Kazakhstan, studying film at NYFA, loves Rock ‘n’ Roll and Rock’n’Roll requires drugs. He likes every drug he’s tried and while he bares that proudly, I’d venture a guess that he’s had limited access.

You might remember that when we last left Adele, he was singing to me while I was in the Hot Tub. He was intoxicated, as are the many folks I find there. Going to the jacuzzi at this Complex and not finding drunk folks is like going inside a Jack in the Box and not finding a homeless man without pants. Or like going to the Getty and not finding a 21-year-old city college student telling her friends “see this painting is about how you can find beauty within the chaos.”

This time, I was alone in the jacuzzi. Cut in randomly to any moment in my life and you can assume “INT. ANYWHERE – We close in on X-Cessive alone.” This particular evening I was alone in the Jacuzzi and Adele came by.

“Hello my friend” he said in that accent I have grown to love and imitate in the weeks since meeting him, “Do you remember me?”

“How could I forget?” said I.

“My friends left me.”

“Does that happen to you a lot? Last time I met you your friends wouldn’t let you in their apartment.” Me: slowly peeling back the layers on the complexities of Adele. Adele: Drooling a little.

“Yes, it does,” said he “they are mean to me because I’m drunk or having the sex in their house.”

“I see.”

He sat, smoking a cigarette and occasionally sipping from a mini bottle of Jack Daniels. He didn’t ask any questions, nor did I have too many questions for him. Maybe he ran out of layers for me to peel back. Then, his friends arrived.

A group of three. All tall. One stocky-er. Two dressed in that “someone put together this outfit” for me way. Many of the people I see or meet at this Complex dress this way. It’s a Hollywood thing, I think. Always being observed, always “auditioning” in a way. You gotta look cool, like you’re a model in real life. For many that means J-Biebs diaper pants, a hover board and a longline T-Shirt that helps them look like they’ve escaped from their rehearsals for the stage version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

One of them was very thin, his facial features reminded me of the sharp cartilage of a carved up rotisserie chicken – a shark-fin-like nose and eyes that looked loose in their cavities. He spoke to Adele in what I recognized as Russian. Having visited the Northern Caucus region before, I figured Adele and his compatriots probably speak several languages, one of the primary ones being Russian. They aren’t the only ones that know several languages, though. LA folks are bilingual in a way – like how rich white ladies know enough condescending Spanish to ask their gardeners to do theme-shaped hedges.

The next few minutes were confusing. His friends kind of yelled at him a little but seemed to be joking, maybe. I don’t really know what about. It seems he had done something foolish in front of them or with them or to them and they ditched him. Which explains why he so serendipitously entered my life. After giving him a healthy bro chastisement, they ran away. That’s a literal “ran”. They, I assume jokingly, yelled “parkour” and hopped up several stairs at once in the nearest building. That’s why I assume they were joking. If skipping a step on your way up the stairs counts as parkour, I’m a free-running God.

They ran from him, emerged from the above balconies shouting funny (to them) expletives and disappeared for a bit. In the meantime, Adele dipped his toe in the jacuzzi.

“The water is perfect for me,” he said, “I’ll get in.”

He stripped down to his black briefs and cannon-balled in. My possessions were safe from the splash. He’s a small guy. He swam around and got a little too close for comfort when asking me something about drugs I’ve done. Maybe “anti-histamines” wasn’t as funny a response to him as it was to me. I chalked it up to the intoxication but decided I’d rather not be in the jacuzzi at the present time.

So he’s swimming around and his friends return. I’m drying off and dressing and now the shark-looking one wants to network. He’s asking me about my job and where I work is kind of cool so now he’s thinking I might have something to offer him given he’s “increasingly interested in animation” and I just want to leave. I’m not uncomfortable. I’m not wanting to be anti-social. I just have frozen chicken-tenders and spicy mayo waiting for me at home and The Bachelor is on. Priorities.

I said goodbye to my friend Adele and moved on. His friends did, as well. The last thing I heard from Adele before rounding the corner, leaving the jacuzzi and pool area out of ear shot was, “Well, I’m getting naked then” and then an echo of solitary laughter. I never looked back and haven’t seen Adele since.

Given my brief and limited interactions with Adele and given the way in which I’ve recorded them here, it’d be easy to say Adele has little to offer me. Constantly stumbling around like Russell Brand in any film Russell Brand has been in, Adele could be chalked up to a perpetually-intoxicated foreigner and that’s that. But assuming Adele has nothing to teach me would be short-sighted and cruel. Assuming any person has nothing to offer you is a terrible way to approach people. I’ve learned something from every interaction I’ve had with every single human and that dog in Venice that’s really good at skateboarding. Once, a homeless woman under a bridge told me to “Keep an eye on Sergeant Smith, he’s coming for you.” I’m so thankful to that woman because I honestly had no idea.

Adele has taught me a very valuable lesson about loneliness. For whatever reason (and for Adele there may be many) Adele’s friends ditched him constantly (twice in my encounter with him this night alone). If you find yourself lonely, let it roll off your shoulder. Find a random person to serenade in the jacuzzi. Or don’t please. What Adele seems to have done, and what I recommend you do is this; find a way to be fully content in your own company. Adele taught me that you have to be 100% you in public or alone. Adele is fully Adele regardless of whether his friends have ditched him or not. Let’s ignore how helpful alcohol and drugs may be in this endeavor.

So. When faced with the fact that you’re going to be alone because your friends have decided to peace out or exclude you from something, have the confidence and foundation in your identity to say “Well, I’m getting naked then.”

#adeleforpresident2016

Coming up in WhoPeed: Dirk – My Unrequested Wingman, Bridgette and Rick offer fireBall to my visiting Brother, and more!