The Sunset Strip Diaries

by Amy Asbury

  You know what? This might sound naïve, but…I didn’t realize that many of the people I have been hanging out with have turned into drug addicts. I thought we were all just drinking. Now it is hitting me. They don’t eat, but they always make conversation about some big meal they just had. They have all been cutting back on the booze and are just holding the same drink all night. That is why Michael, Strange, and I stand out as being belligerent. We are probably the only ones not on drugs right now! Natalie couldn’t sleep because of the speed and had to do shots of Jim Beam. And I just found out Collette is a heroin addict. I didn’t even put two and two together when she was falling asleep in mid-conversation. I remember one night she was trying to show me how to get to a party and she kept falling asleep and I passed the place. She woke up and said, “Oh, sorry! Make a U-turn. It was right back there.” I turned around, started driving, and then looked over at her, asleep again! I must have passed the place three different times.

  I guess I should tell you how I was picked out of the crowd at Bar One the second I walked up, and how I immediately bypassed all of the people who were not good-looking enough to get in. Then when I got up to the front, I was on a guest list, waltzed right in, and sat with some big shot named Rich Ross. He gave my friend Sarah (a girl I met in summer school a few years ago) and me free drinks. I danced with Brian Austin Green from 90210. Sarah was feeling left out because Rich was telling me what an asset I was, and that I should come every week. She felt better when she met Rick James later that night. She was flirting with him and gave him her number- I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Anyway, none of it matters because I was an idiot and spoiled my chance with Sunny.

  Journal Entry 8/5/92

  I am coming off whatever I did. Feeling all psycho over Sunny. Can’t stop crying; depressed and obsessive. Can’t get out of bed. I lost five pounds from not eating for five days (note to self: don’t eat for ten more days). I don’t even know what to say. I have been lying in this bed since I woke up and it is ten at night now. I tried eating dinner with my mother and sister but I started crying when I saw my potato. It got so bad that I had to excuse myself. They just kept eating and ignored me. He hasn’t called and it is entirely my fault for acting so idiotic around him. And to top it off, I saw Jimmy and Robbi hanging out at a Cathouse party! I don’t even care. Tweety and I got into an argument about who was more stuck up than who (I act like I should be playing polo in The Hamptons, apparently). But I didn’t care about that either. I just want Sunny to call. I can’t believe I blew it.

  Journal Entry 8/10/92

  Was supposed to hang out with Sunny the other night, but he flaked. He ended up leaving a message on my mom’s answering machine at 4 a.m., which is of course too late to be answering a call from a guy. I saw him out the next night and did a great job of hiding my obsession. He asked what happened the other night and I coolly said, “Well, I went my way and you went your way and we lost each other,” and smiled. We were all sitting in the dark, by the empty swimming pool of Errol Flynn’s burned down estate in Runyon Canyon, passing around the usual bottle of Jim Beam (I don’t even know why we call it Errol Flynn’s- I think Errol Flynn only stayed in the pool house at the damn place). Jamie Scrap, Mandie, Boa, and a bunch of others were there. I looked over toward the gate at the top of Fuller Street and a bunch of girls I knew were climbing up over the fence via a winding tree (that I can expertly climb in tiny outfits)- Chrissy, Emi, Stephanie, Dina, Amy, Sandy, Nicole and Chantelle. Some gang showed up, said that we were on their turf, and told us to leave. None of us wanted to get shot, so we took off, stumbling over elderberry bushes. As we were leaving, the cops showed up and busted Natalie for carrying a bottle of booze. They eventually let her go, then she and I went back to her place and danced to the Geto Boys in our underwear. She said, “You had Sunny hooked, before you started yelling at him.”

  I haven’t been with a guy this entire summer. I have to be careful who I let near me because everyone knows each other. I really have to watch out and play this thing right.

  Journal Entry 8/16/92

  I shouldn’t have written that shit! Bang raped me last night! Yes, raped me! I woke up in the middle of the act. He was on top of me. We were on the floor of some room, next to a pile of dirty laundry. He is not someone who I am attracted to, so I don’t see how I could have even been in that situation. I was clearly too drunk to make any decisions and he was fine with that. I was puking up blood on the way home, from drinking too much. In the beginning of the night he was kind of forcefully pulling me around with him, and I just let him- not good. Then I remember he wanted to drive in my car with me- I felt cool that he singled me out, so I let him. The rest? My own fault for being so dumb. I have to wipe it out of my mind. I am not gonna think about it.

  The Next Day

  Bang called here today. He apologized. Instead of just accepting it, or maybe even telling him off, I said I shouldn’t have been that drunk around him. I added that I didn’t sleep with the guys in Hollywood. He said, “I know. That’s why I’m calling.” He didn’t try to blame me or anything, like I thought he would. He was all quiet and said he wasn’t drinking the rest of the week. Oh wow, a whole week. I was happy not to have been roughed up, though. He has knocked out two girls I know personally. Knocked them out cold, just for being annoying. I am glad he feels like shit.

  There is nothing I can do now, except move on.

  I woke up at about 2:30 or three this afternoon. I was dreaming about tripping on stairs, being in a nightclub, and stealing a big box of bright pink Hubba Bubba gum. I was in some spacey store with my dad and he was borrowing all of my money and then buying me all of this fun stuff with it, like cherry Slurpees. He was buying other people presents with my money. One time he did do something similar. He took my sister and me on a huge shopping spree at like, Sears, or somewhere where the stuff basically sucked, but we were allowed to buy whatever we wanted. I remember buying a red bra, some perfume, and a few other things. We thought it was strange, but who were we to question a free shopping trip? Well, it turned out that he stole the card from someone he knew, charged all of that shit on it, and left them with the bill!

  Another time he brought Karen and me to this huge mansion and said we could stay there and do whatever we wanted: eat the stuff in the fridge, watch TV, whatever. So we made ourselves at home. We turned on Yo! MTV Raps, started baking something in the oven, and basically trashed the place. Then we heard a key in the door and some women’s voices. We looked at each other, jumped up, and ran. Karen hid in a closet or something and I ran into a bathroom and locked the door. I stripped off all my clothes in a panic. Don’t ask me why I thought that would be a good idea. I think I was going to pretend I was taking a shower, but then I decided to wrap myself in a towel (I know, I was an idiot) and face the music. Karen and I eventually came out because they were about to call the cops. A nicely dressed woman and her adult daughter were standing there staring at us and had no idea who we were. I think one of them knew my dad in some way, she may have been sleeping with him or something. Regardless, they sure as hell didn’t know who we were. And worse, they did not authorize us to stay in their house.

  I probably had that dream because I visited my dad last night. I asked for some money for school and he gave me a dollar and six quarters. He owes a few years of child support for my sister and me and the law is after him for various other reasons like tax evasion and some warrants. He is living with a lady named Debra who is a former disc jockey for KHJ.

  Journal Entry 8/19/92

  I visited Natalie last night. She had all of her medical books spread around her. It looked like she set them up as props. We watched a little bit of Miss Nude USA and she commented on each girl. “This can’t be in L.A. The stage is way too nice. These girls can’t be from Hollywood…Oh...this girl could. She has got the L.A. attitude and stuff, the way she dances and her face.” She laughed and talked about how quiet she was and how no one wanted her because of it. The
n the building caught fire and we had to go.

  In a half an hour, I have to get ready to go to Bar One. A lot of stars hang out there when they are in L.A. This company called W.C. Productions always puts me on a guest list and asks me to bring really pretty girls. Once I am there, I usually go sit with that guy Rich Ross, who owns the company or something. He looks like Andy Gibb in running shorts and a tank top, no matter the weather. That is an L.A. thing. He examines the girls I bring, nods, and then tells us to order whatever we want. His secretary calls me sometimes and puts him through. He says things like “You are fanTABulous” or “You are a bombshell.”

  Tonight I am bringing Birdie, even though she is only newly sixteen. They will let her in because of her looks. Her age won’t matter. She has been wearing fake eyelashes like me and the same type of clothes. She is stealing my look, but oh well. The only thing I can do is go with it. She looks very exotic and smells like some sort of spice or cinnamon. It is some Chanel perfume that she spritzes all over herself until we are both choking. She is super spoiled and has a ton of nice clothes and calls her dad “Daddy.” To watch her is kind of like looking at a rare species of some sort of animal. She is so pretty that people drop things when she walks by.

  The other night we went to the Rainbow to eat mozzarella sticks and pizza. That is one thing I really like about Birdie- she loves to eat. She orders extra cheese on everything! Anyway, Axl Rose was there eating by himself in the booth next to us with two huge body guards standing in front of him. No one was even trying to talk to him; he was a little over-zealous with those guards.

  Journal Entry 8/22/92

  I bleached Natalie’s roots at two in the morning while we watched Goodfellas. She made me turn it off because the violence was giving her an anxiety attack. She now works at some place called Venus Faire, off Lankershim. She dances in this booth while guys put money through slots. She says there is a lot of flashing lights and mirrors so she doesn’t even know who is looking at her. She can’t see them, they can only see her. Speaking of jobs, I got a job on Melrose today. I met some old guy at Bar One and he wanted me to work at his clothing store. School starts tomorrow, it is two in the morning, and I can’t sleep.

  Now it is three in the morning. I am laying here listening to Van Halen. My boobs are swollen and they hurt. It is hard to be around the people and places I am. I am starting to sweat. I need to have a normal life. I need to try to be normal: study, do homework, go on diets, go to keg parties, tan at Zuma 6, dance at Florentine Gardens... I need to try to be normal so I can live in this society. I am starting to get obsessed with the past. All night I have been listening to these tapes we recorded as kids; tapes of Karen, Becky and me messing around. They’re kind of like time capsules. I used to hold my tape recorder up to the TV and record commercials, and theme songs from TV shows like The Cosby Show. I recorded music off the radio, complete with the DJ, Rick Dees, talking over the beginning of the songs. I recorded a lot of shit. I wish it were more. I am so glad I have all the music from those days on these tapes, but they are making me obsessed. Was that really me? I feel like I am a completely different person from that girl. Where did she go? I want to be normal. I want to fall asleep at night, I don’t want to be afraid to die, and I want to hang around regular people. I don’t want to be so calculated and always try to be in the right place at the right time. I don’t want to be so attracted to such losers.

  Journal Entry 8/27/92

  I haven’t been to sleep yet and I have class at 9:00. I am going to have to go straight to school without sleeping. Jimmy tried to hang himself from his chandelier last night and it smashed to the ground. Then he tried to hang himself with a phone cord and it broke, dropping him into the smashed glass. I haven’t slept since Tuesday night and now it is Thursday evening. I am not tired. You would think I was on drugs, but no. My sister is, though. She is doing speed. I heard her whispering about it to her druggie friend last night. I heard the whole thing. I was steaming mad. She is a closet case. I heard her say how cool it was and that she was putting money aside for it every week, and that she liked the fact that you didn’t come off it hard. Natalie is right. Everyone IS on drugs.

  Journal Entry 8/30/92

  My job at the clothing store is really cool. It is next door to Johnny Rockets and Warbabies and across from Bleeker Bob’s. Melrose is hot right now- there is even a new show after 90210 called Melrose Place. Yesterday I sold jeans to one of the girls from Wilson Phillips (daughter of Beach Boy Brian Wilson, more importantly) and she was wearing this loose crocheted top with no bra and her tit fell out! Everyone was looking and I couldn’t keep talking to her with her entire nipple showing so I told her. It was so embarrassing. The manager, Rico, is a female impersonator who impersonates Cher on the weekends. He is always checking out guys and is really funny. He sits on my lap and plays with my hair. He saw these mannequins across the street that he wanted and he wiggled over there to try to get one to ‘bring home and screw.’ What is he gonna do? Drill a hole in the thing? The guy next door likes him and Rico isn’t interested because the guy ‘doesn’t know how to dress and is clumsy.’

  Last night, Birdie and I went to see The Zeros. We showed up in platform shoes, pale pink lipstick, little clothes, and long straight hair. Right when Birdie got to the very top of the stairs at the Coconut Teaszer, the top of her shoe (strapped to her ankle) separated from the bottom of its four-inch platform. She rolled down the stairs screaming and everything flew out of her purse and all over the place. After the show, everyone went to party at the Hyatt on Sunset (Led Zeppelin used to party there) that was being thrown by a rich, fat girl. It lasted about ten minutes. I managed to have one screwdriver with Strange and we all were thrown out. So we ended up crowded around the outside of the Hyatt. Someone was trying to dance with me, Strange spilled his drink on me, and we tried jaywalking across Sunset in platform shoes. Some guy I never met from the Seattle crowd tried to grab my bottle of Jim Beam and I clamped onto it. I actually paid for the bottle myself for once, so I told him to ask first. He nearly threw me halfway across the road. Some girl said, “Watch out- he is really mean, he’ll hit you.” I let go of the bottle after my finger started bleeding because he pinched it so hard. He said in an angry voice: “How does it feel to know everyone wants to fuck you?” I just looked at him and said, “I don’t know.”

  Someone else in the Seattle crowd told me my nose was so far in the air, they could ski down it. Then Strange started jumping on these chain link fences laid over huge ditches in the ground and he nearly fell in. I went over there to stop him and we ended up wrestling on the hood of a car. Then we got in Birdie’s car. She had just learned to drive and was swerving everywhere. She has a major crush on this guy named Frankie from Boston, and she got him into her car to bring him to go hang out with her at her parents’ place, even though he insisted he just wanted to go home. “You don’t have a home, Frankie!” she reminded him. He kept trying to open the car doors and jump out. She was yelling, “You should be happy that you are in the car with us!”

  (Sighs.) Okay. As far as the drugs I may or may not have done while blacked out on Night Train. I am not trying to be a goody-goody here. I did plenty of drugs later on in my life, but at that time, I had not willingly ingested any. Things were getting very dark in Hollywood at that point, darker than before. Heroin was becoming more prominent, creeping in and seducing people who were depressed about their lives for one reason or another. The party was pretty much over- we all knew it. Even my days were numbered. The countdown was on.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Enter Heroin, Stage Left

  Journal Entry 9/4/92

  Went over to Razz’s place. I know, I know, he is a traitor. But I was bored and needed a break from the others. He started a band with Teddy St. John, Frankie (Birdie’s crush), Dusty, and this new stuck-up blond guy named Bradley who is dating Sabrina. Sabrina looks like a completely different person- she got her boobs, nose, and lips done. She even changed her
eye color- now they are green. Her hair is much longer and even lighter blond, almost white. She told me that she and Bradley were secretly married. Who knows why that has to be a secret, probably for his “image.”

  When I walked through the front door, Razz led me by the shoulders to meet Bradley, who said he was happy to meet me, and that they all talked about me all the time (great). We all got hammered and went to the shithole that is FM Station, where Razz and I started pissing everyone off again. We were girl-hitting each other, snorting with laughter, and rolling around the booth. Teddy was mad and calling us pricks and assholes. Razz started calling him Damone (from Fast Times at Ridgemont High) and I think we were calling him fat and making fun of his toes for some reason. Whenever Razz and I hang around each other too long, everyone hates us and we end up with no friends. This night was no exception.

  Journal Entry 9/5/92

  I sprained my foot last night on Sunset and I can’t walk. I heard my name being called from the cars in the traffic jam and when I turned back to look, I tripped right in front of Gazzarri’s. I was loaded, but I think I would’ve tripped anyway. Naturally, it had to be Sunny in the car yelling my name. And I just had to trip and fall on my face in front of him! My sister had to take me to the hospital later that night and they were pushing me around in a wheelchair.