Record 8: North Hollywood, California, Saturday, July 5th, 2014. Day.
I’m gonna write you this letter real quick because I have to get back to the warehouse in a few minutes because my dad needs help restocking a buncha breakaway glass. We have to be really careful when we put it up, you know, because it breaks easily and I’ve broken so many of the props before and got grounded for it. That was shitty. My dad made me stay in my room too. He only let me leave to buy him Miller Lite and cigarettes since the clerk at the 7/11 on Vineland doesn’t give a shit about carding me. But anyway. Yeah. Sorry for not writing in an email or digital message or anything. I broke my phone last week. Well I guess I didn’t really break it. I was smoking some wax at Xander’s place and watching Adventure Time and we got into an argument about Finn (he’s one of the main characters). Xander said he thought the character of Finn was based on Frodo and I told him that was fucking retarded and that he was probably too high. I think he got mad because I called him out or some shit – I guess about being a super stoner? Honestly, I’m not even sure – and he flipped. He started shouting at me for not having sex and I asked him why he thinks I don’t have sex but I was high and fucking with him anyway and he knows I’m not a lesbian. So yeah. I picked up my phone and said I was gonna leave and drive home and he gave me some bullshit line about how I shouldn’t drive high. Seriously right? Like that motherfucker doesn’t drive high as shit up and down the 101 for no reason other than he feels trapped and dying like endangered animals. Anyway I told him to fuck off and he lunged at me like he was gonna hit me and I dropped my phone on the floor because I was scared. He picked it up, held the fucking torch lighter to it, and told me to tell him he was sober, which woulda been a total lie, and you know I can’t lie good and shit so I laughed instead and he burned the phone. So that’s why I can’t do like a digital message or text message thing right now (also, I think you already know, but I don’t have a laptop or a stay-at-home computer). But I wanted to write and just say thanks for letting me come in and interview at Vivid. I know since you graduated a few years ahead of me you’ve had some time to really get acquainted there and you pulled strings and shit to get me a fucking interview and that’s something I want to thank you for in a formal way, like this, with an old fashioned letter. I’m pretty excited about working with you and your whole crew and you all seem very professional and so that’s also why I’m writing this letter – to be professional. And I’m sorry again that it’s not a digital message (being professional is very important to me). I guess I’m just nervous and worried that maybe I didn’t get the job and I’ll have to live with my dad forever. I don’t really mind it, it’s just boring and all he does is complain about Obama and watch that food channel show where that douchey guy goes and eats food at places all over the country. I watch it with him sometimes because he’s my dad, you know, and I love him. I’m just ready to move out. I told you I turned 19 last month right? Anyway, if I didn’t, then I guess I just did. LOL! Whoa. Is it weird to write LOL on paper? It didn’t feel weird. Part of me kind of wishes it felt weird and I’m not really sure why. But that’s it now. I’m done ☺ and I gotta go back and help my dad at his warehouse but let me know if I got the job, okay? And like I said before I’m cool with doing whatever. I’m a pretty open-minded person.