Hollywoodland

Beverly Pillbillies

My shrink is moving offices. Which is too bad, because today was my second and last visit to his Beverly Hills digs in a very 60s building on Brighton Way, right off of Rodeo. I’m really getting into my shrink appts at lunchtime in B.H.; it’s like being in a Fellini flick, or just Halloween, because I feel like I’m dressed up like someone else. I mean, how the hell could that be me? Today I felt like me. I met a nice, giant black Great Dane named Matisse and we walked from the little park down Rodeo to my corner on Brighton. I felt so regal. Then as I waited at the light, someone sidled up to me.

“Havin’ a good day, honey?”

I didn’t turn around much. I get used to this. Having red hair means people can talk to you without introduction; they think this somehow breaks the politeness barrier of a say, “Hello,” or “Good afternoon.”

“Yeah. You?” I finally turned to look. He was a homeless black man, holding a can. Jesus.

“Yes, I am honey, just waiting for the Kingdom. Waiting for the Kingdom.”