First call with Benny was a lot less awkward than it could've been. I'd been putting it off. Right now he's at his place in LA-- FINALLY home, but not for long-- which is actually closer to where I'd like to take him anyway if I get to take him anywhere. I told him I still felt sorry for the last time we met being so much more stressful than it should have been, and he cut me off with a "Baby, it's *fine*" (so wonderful and comforting to hear that grumbly bass over the phone, even if not as good as having my head against his chest, hearing it resonate against my ear).
I admitted to him I was a little rattled, but not because of that still, but because of holidays. I said I had family, and I shouldn't take that for granted, but that lately going home to them made me feel constantly on-edge more than happy. I could barely believe the words when they came out of my mouth. I wanted to stuff them back in. They feel like such an awful exaggeration. I don't fully regret it, he was so good to me about it, talking to him helped so much. He didn't make me get into details and I didn't provide many concrete ones. I just needed to work thru the emotions, really, and he helped me do that. He's about to be on the road for a little while for a couple trucking gigs, but'll be back in just as many months, and he might be able to swing by my way then (!!!).
...The more I think about it and him the more I want his hand on my hip at a club. At LR, specifically. G-d, is it just a stupid fantasy at this point? In this new ~era~ we find ourselves in? I hope not. I know it might be difficult to be as discreet as I'd like to be nowadays. But maybe I can work something out.
The townhouse I was afraid would get outmoded has sadly become so. Fame is such an odd thing, and it snuck up on me so fast. Being known for my singing, my talent, is one thing. That's what I wanted really, to be known for my skill and respected for it, to be respected just generally. This is far different. This is celebrity. This is people waiting around on my block on purpose to scream and run up to me and beg for attention, autographs, photographs. It's gotten to the point where I haven't been able to host for months, or, even more personally, haven't had a chance for genuine peace and quiet, always having to worry that someone will interrupt me for their little chance-of-a-lifetime or their photo in the latest gossip rag. Trying to think about how I viewed celebrities or people burdened with it before becoming one myself-- would I have bothered The Beatles the way people bother me? ...When I was fifteen, maybe, and if it was Paul (sorry Paul!). But as an adult? I really don't think so! And a lot of these are adults I'm talking about, here! Feeling thankful, at least, for how instinctual it's been for me to throw white lies around like nothing during interviews since the beginning.
So! I have in fact bought a house, and thankfully, I've been able to transfer my beautiful rose bushes to the yard there, in a place that gets similar amounts of sunlight. It's still a pretty small house, a bungalow with a loft-ish second floor but a fantastic master bathroom with a *JACUZZI* alongside a full size bath/shower, and a walk-in closet in the master bedroom. Kitchen slightly smaller than I'd like, and it's combined with the dining area, but I've been able to work with it all. It's not anywhere close to where the far bigger celebrities live in their mansions. Rather, it's on the outskirts of SF, in a far more sprawling area with increasing amounts of land between properties. Which means I've had to hire landscapers to keep the place up, but that's fine. I'll think of what other flowers/plants to grow and how much of the land I'll make garden next year. Maybe someday soon I'll be well off enough to build an addition for a little studio or something, too. But for now.... PEACE! QUIET!
Some neighbors have recognized me but they've all understood I'm out here to be left the hell alone and are being very lovely in keeping to that-- they don't want camera freaks around their houses either-- so I've been quite friendly to them in turn. Introduced myself as Jules Rajani, even, because, well, that *is* my name, record company or Walter Henderson preferences be damned. A darling old woman named Lottie has been my favorite; she has a beautiful vegetable garden and has no idea who I am outside of the neighbor context (and certainly wouldn't care even if she did know-- her grandkids, maybe, but not her), so I've been over for tea a few times and she called me a "charming young man" after the first visit. Like having another grandmother! So I've promised her some rose and pistachio cakes to have with our tea once the roses are ready. I think this may be the oldest friend I've ever had!
PS: Mom and Marv were able to swing by for a visit as well, and it was thankfully far more pleasant than the last time we saw each other, but Mom's always thankfully been good about moving on from things like that. Mom was very excited to look around the place and recommend design ideas for various rooms. She also got to meet Lottie!
PPS: Reminder to tell Benny my new address!
Greg apparently helped choose the new keyboard player but Walt said so, so who knows how true that is. Jeffrey definitely has talent, he's just also..... well. For one, people say *I* can be too melodramatic in my songwriting (and sometimes also my singing but oh well) but I think he's even more of a sap than I am. Alongside that, the writing I've seen from him so far along with his whole vibe is so.... straight. In both meanings of the word. I don't necessarily mean macho, either-- he's certainly not that; he's too shy to pull it off even if he thinks he has the arms for it. He's "sensitive". Which Walter apparently thinks I would appreciate (and straight men are idiots, him and Greg might actually think Jeff's gay or closeted just because he's "sensitive". UGH). Gee, thanks. --Well. Maybe he's not as boring as he looks. He DOES have some official music training-- more complete than my piecemeal remembrances of college classes-- which is already interesting, that is rare in rock. Maybe I can wring some fun out of him somehow. Maybe I can make all that straightness crooked or at least some of it (strictly platonically; he's the most gormless looking schmuck I've ever seen, he's married, and beyond that, I'm done fucking keyboard players. I'm done sucking pianist penis! Etc etc). Maybe he's like I was at first and just nervous. Maybe maybe maybe.
At the same time, though, I can't help but feel cynical and suspicious. He's SO squeaky-clean. On the one hand-- if he's actually okay, I can potentially use his squeaky-clean-ness as cover. On the other hand, if he's Reagan Jr, I might have to kill him. --In all seriousness, though, I might have to actually begin to think of exit plans. He might not be Reagan Jr, though! He's just the epitome of wonderbread and my bosses saw that and saw cash now that The American Public is getting scared of anything that's not the epitome of wonderbread (because they're getting told to be, and Walt's first impulse is to go with the flow). If Walt tries to make me stay out of the sun on purpose again I'm leaving if they don't kick me out first. --And I really mean it, this time!!
PS: ...Apparently “epitome” isn’t pronounced how I thought it was. A-pit-oh-mee? REALLY?? Apparently, or so says Jeff. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed… relieved I didn’t say it wrong in an interview first, certainly...
Jeff has found some extra usefulness and potential-fun already beyond his musical chops, and that is he LOVES theater and showtunes... but still in such an extraordinarily straight way-- why am I surprised! And other straight men claim it's impossible, HA-- but maybe I can fix that. We were hanging at his place-- closer to the mansions I didn't want to buy, but not the tackiest I've seen-- and I told him that my parents were their own little song-and-dance duo for awhile, even after they had me, and one of my earliest memories was watching them on some stage somewhere, Mom in a gorgeous can-can costume, dancing so energetically yet fluidly, father singing and matching that energy so perfectly with his voice. There was a magic to it all that I could sense already, and the older I got the more I wanted to capture it somehow. So I've always had something of a fondness, or maybe a weakness, for showtunes. Neither of Jeff's parents were musical, but music was a "wholesome" extracurricular activity, and they wanted him to do *some*thing outside of school. Anyway, Jeff said he liked the way I told stories, how vivid they were. He tried to write lyrics that way, he said.
At some point, he got confident in himself just enough to show me-- still very sheepishly-- a song that he had already written the music for. Sheepishly because it was for his wife first and foremost, shy about it because the melody was so sweet. TOO sweet, he thought, but that wasn't the REAL problem. The problem was the shyness. Honey, you can't be shy about melodrama. Shy melodrama comes off as pathetic and there's nothing worse than pathetic-- which is what I told him, too (...without the 'honey'). You have to go big or go home. The world is falling around you and you are LAMENTING and you are lamenting GORGEOUSLY. If it's tacky then it's tacky, but at least it's not afraid of itself.
I started singing nonsense lyrics along to the melody and told him that we were on Broadway and we were gonna act like it. "What's the point if it's not something that can ever be for the band?" That's why I wanted to sing over it, to find out if it *could* be. So he finally pretended to be on Broadway with me and I sang it like a diva. And wouldn't you know, he finally got some confidence in himself (he also spluttered about how amazing I sounded in person, which-- yeah yeah yeah I get it, get a grip)! We swung the tempo a bit to give it a more typical pop ballad feel and called it a day at that.
I had been feeling a bit put-off at how eager Jeff was to work with me, which is silly, I suppose. I wanted recognition for my voice and now I have it and people want to work with me because of it, and people gushing to me about it makes me uncomfortable? I really am impossible to please sometimes....
PS: He didn't know Kate Bush so I HAD to put The Kick Inside on for him in my car (and tried my best not to sing along with every single word of it) and he LOVED it so maybe he really is redeemable. Stranger things have happened! --I told him that it's one of my favorite recent albums, that I still love Kate even though the last couple albums I've gotten thru the grapevine weren't nearly so good... there was at least a few great songs on there each! Either she keeps putting out "decent" albums and I can eventually string together a "greatest hits" tape for myself (heh), OR-- hopefully this and I BELIEVE it's this-- she comes into her own and puts out a real smash someday soon.
PPS: Jeff's wife's also trying to get into the music biz and come into her own, in her own way. I told him I hope she does! And he snorted, shook his head a little, said "I hope so, too.", In a sort of mutter. She's your wife and you're not excited for her? Or at least hopeful? He shook his head a little more, then. "It's a long story. I've had to do quite a bit for her to help me get HERE-- that's the short of it." And I still don't know why he was so bothered... I mean, he's HERE, right? It worked out! And it hasn't for her, yet. Whatever. Maybe he was just in an off mood.