Famous People

by Justin Kuritzkes

  And I guess Chris still sort of blames me for all of it. Like, I guess he still has some sort of deep resentment toward me, because I disturbed his peaceful retirement and I woke up this sleeping devil and brought him back out into the limelight, but, like, how the fuck was I supposed to know, you know? How the fuck was I supposed to predict that Chris would turn into a monster? I read in an interview he did somewhere that he wishes he’d never recorded Roses and Mud in the first place because it gave me all of this respect and credibility, and like, all it did for him was just fuck up his plan of getting out of the game before he became an embarrassment. And he’s not totally wrong about all that, but that shit is on him, you know? You can’t go around blaming other people for your shortcomings. If you do that, you’re never gonna actually look at yourself in the mirror and be like: What’s going on with me? Who AM I?

  But I don’t know. Maybe there’s just something wrong with that whole generation. Like, maybe something really fucked up was happening with Chris and my dad and all of those people when they were growing up. I mean, my mom and Bob turned out okay, I guess, so it’s not like EVERYBODY that age is fucked up, but maybe something really crazy was happening in the universe at the time when they were born. Like, maybe a whole fucking galaxy got destroyed like, a million light-years away, and so everyone who was born around that time got affected in some crazy way and they don’t even know it. I don’t know. I’d have to ask Bob how something like that would even work.

  * * *

  #48—Right torso. This is my baby brother’s birth date next to a bowl of spaghetti. That’s his favorite food right now.

  #36—Left chest. This is the plasma gun you get once you reach level 37 in Urban Warrior. I know it seems silly, but if you play U.W., you know: That’s a HUGE fucking moment.

  #13—Upper left cheek. This little guy is modeled after the necklace my mom made for me. Optimus was telling me that unless the person who’s asking for it is famous or a criminal—like, unless Optimus is pretty confident they won’t ever have to go on a job interview again—he won’t do any tattoos above the shirt collar. Apparently, the only people who are allowed to have face tattoos are celebrities and gangsters. LOL.

  #60—Right shoulder. This is Curt, Patrick, and Mo as the Three Stooges. It was Mo’s idea.

  #74—Lower left leg. BEMYBABY1567. This was my gamer tag before I had to change it. I wanted it to just be BEMYBABY, but that was already taken.

  * * *

  Get this:

  Mandy just told me she’s quitting music.

  Seriously!

  I don’t know if it’s public yet, so I’ll check with her before I publish anything, but we had lunch yesterday in Chicago, and apparently, over the last couple months, she’s been studying with a bunch of tutors and taking the SAT, and she applied to a bunch of different colleges, and she just found out that she got into a bunch of them. She was only in Chicago because she got into a bunch of schools there and she was going to all these admitted students events.

  When I talked to her about it, she sounded so relieved, you know? I’ve always kind of felt with Mandy like there was this giant weight on her—like there was some deep sadness or like there was something she was holding down in the bottom of her stomach—but this was the first time I talked to her where like, all of that was gone, you know? She felt a thousand pounds lighter.

  I asked her if she thought she would get back into the game once she was done with school, and she was like: I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.

  Obviously, like, her manager is freaking out and her label is freaking out, and they’re telling her it’s this enormous mistake and that if she drops out entirely for four years, it’s gonna be really hard for her to get back into it, but Mandy just doesn’t give a fuck.

  She was just like: That’s literally the farthest thing from my mind right now. LOL.

  And I really didn’t want to be this guy—I support Mandy one hundred percent in whatever she thinks is right for her life—but I just couldn’t help saying to her, like: You realize no matter what school you go to, no matter how hard you try to get out of the game, people are gonna be following you around everywhere you go and asking for your autograph and taking pictures of you in class, right?

  And Mandy was like: Maybe for the first semester or two. They’ll get over it eventually.

  And I was like: But what about your roommate? What if she’s some crazy person, and you wake up in the middle of the night and she’s just like, staring at you, you know? Or live-streaming you sleeping?

  And Mandy was like: I’m sure whatever she’s studying will be more interesting than me.

  And I was like: But you realize that whatever you end up doing, whatever kind of life you try to lead, to most people in the world, you’re always just gonna be Mandy, right?

  And Mandy was like: Most people in the world live on less than two dollars and fifty cents a day. They don’t give a shit who “Mandy” is.

  And I was like: But a LOT of people do.

  And Mandy was like: No. They’ve been TOLD they do. They’ve CONVINCED themselves that they do. But the only reason they care about “Mandy” is that the rest of their world is falling apart. “Mandy” is the last little corner of public space where everything appears to be operating normally. “Mandy” is the last little broom closet in the whole exploding factory where people can go and pretend like everything’s all right. But everything’s not all right. Everything is definitely not all right.

  And I was like: Still, it’d be a shame if you quit.

  And Mandy just laughed at me, and she was like: Why?

  And I was like: Because you can SING. You can really sing.

  And Mandy was like: Everybody can sing. That’s the beauty of it.

  And I was like: I know, LOL, but not like you.

  And Mandy got this look on her face, and for a second, it looked like she was gonna say something, but then she just took out her phone. I didn’t really know what she was doing, but she started playing me this sort of amazing recording of this German boys’ choir from ten years ago. She didn’t say anything to introduce it or set it up: She just found the recording on her phone and pressed play. And they were singing this very traditional, like, very beautiful version of “Silent Night”—you know, except in German it’s called “Stille Nacht”—and the whole song was kind of beautiful and amazing, but then in the middle, like, on the second verse, there was this one kid who did a solo—he sounded like he was really young, like, maybe ten or twelve or whatever—and his voice was like, the most amazing thing I had ever heard. I mean, seriously, it was the most delicate and controlled and precise and overpowering thing in the world. And this kid was such a musician, you know? Like, he wasn’t just talented: He had such complete control over his instrument. He was so egoless about it. He was just doing exactly what needed to be done for the song.

  And the song finished, and I looked at Mandy, and I was like: Who was that kid?

  And Mandy looked up at me, and she had tears in her eyes, and she said: That was one of the brothers who carried out the attacks in Berlin. His mother showed it to me when I went to go visit her.

  And I was like: Was that the one they captured?

  And Mandy shook her head and said: No. That was the one they killed.

  * * *

  Here’s the latest from Oddvar:

  Yesterday, on the bus, I was checking my emails, and he messaged me being like: Please let me know when I can see you in person during your tour dates in Europe. I have something important I’d like to discuss with you.

  And I wrote him back being like: Yo, Oddvar, how are you? What’s going on? Is the vault okay?

  And Oddvar was like: I need to talk to you. I’ll meet you anywhere that is convenient. I hope you are doing well.

  And I was like: Listen, man, I’m gonna be in the States for the next week and then when we hit Europe, it’s gonna be really quick—like, just a stop in Barcelona and then a stop in Salerno—so
I don’t know that I’m really gonna have time to hang. Can you just email me?

  And Oddvar was like: Barcelona or Salerno is fine. I’ll meet you anywhere.

  And I was like: Okay, well, let me hit you up when I’m heading over there and we can try to coordinate.

  And Oddvar was like: Yes. Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you.

  And I was like: Oddvar, what’s going on with the vault? You never answered my question.

  And Oddvar was like: The vault is being repaired, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll see you soon.

  And then he just signed off.

  What does he mean it doesn’t matter?

  * * *

  Meanwhile, there’s been a little bit of drama with the TV show. I flew back into L.A. for a day to see the screening of the first few episodes—like, before the premiere, you know, the producers were just screening it for my mom and Bob and me and the network executives—and it turns out that instead of being about Bob, most of the show is about my mom. LOL.

  She has this group of friends she’s been hanging out with since we first moved out to L.A., and they’re all sort of these hilarious women in their forties and fifties who like to have drinks together and talk shit about their kids and their jobs and their husbands, and, you know, some of them are actresses and some of them are married to athletes, and they’re all sort of brutally honest with each other, like, they say stuff to each other that you’re really not supposed to say, but then they’ve also really got each other’s backs, you know? Like, they’re all sort of ride or die. And I’ve known all these women for years, and I’ve always thought they were sort of amazing, and, apparently, so did the producers of The Winstocks, because they structured the whole season around them. They weren’t planning to, obviously, but I guess once they started filming, it became clear that they were a gold mine of content, and so the show has sort of ended up becoming a chronicle of their friendship. There’s this whole episode where my mom’s friend Carol goes to visit her son in rehab, and like, my mom drives her there and they get Burger King afterward and cry together in the parking lot, and there’s this episode where Lisa sets up a dating profile after she gets divorced, and my mom is just really mean to her about how she’s trying to use pictures from when she was twenty years younger, and they all sort of go through Lisa’s matches together and sort them into different categories of fuckability, and it’s all kind of irreverent and fun, but it’s also really touching, you know? There’s a lot of heart, a lot of feels. And there’s a little bit about Bob—he pops up every once in a while to say something or play with Lenny in the background—and there’s a bunch of stuff about my mom’s jewelry company and how she’s trying to expand the business and get celebrities to wear her pieces at events and stuff, but, for the most part, it’s just about these friendships. Bob is sort of a peripheral character.

  And the screening fucking killed—I mean, I thought it was amazing, and my mom was having the time of her life, and every single executive was laughing their ass off and crying and congratulating the producers when it was done—but I could tell that Bob wasn’t having it. He was standing in the corner when it was over kind of sulking and sipping his drink, and he just looked really pissed off, you know? He was trying to hold it together, but it was like his whole vibe was heavy. He was a black hole. And I went up to him, and I was like: How are you feeling, man? What did you think? And Bob just kind of stood there for a while, and then he was like: It’s fine. They all seem happy. And I was like: You didn’t like it at all? And Bob was like: Who cares if I liked it? And I was like: Bob. Come on. You have to at least admit that it’s really cool for my mom. And Bob was like: Sure. Good for her. And I was like: Dude. What the fuck? And Bob was like: What? What do you want to hear from me? And I was like: You don’t think she comes off looking amazing? You don’t think it’ll be great for her business? And Bob just looked at me with all this venom in his face, and he was like: Who cares about her fucking business? And then he just walked away.

  And I stood there feeling really angry for a moment—I mean, what the fuck, you know?—but then I just looked over at my mom, and she was being fawned over by all these executives, and they were saying all this insane shit to her about how well the show was gonna do and how much they all loved her, and it was like she didn’t even notice that Bob was being shitty. It was like she didn’t even care. She was just brimming with all this confidence.

  And, honestly, in that moment, I was just so proud of her that I was like: Who cares about Bob? I just thought she looked so absolutely dope, you know? It was really next-level.

  * * *

  I don’t know how, but news got out that Mandy got into all these colleges—I guess some people in the admissions offices must’ve leaked it?—and so now there’s all this speculation about where she’s gonna go.

  I’m not totally surprised, but a lot of people are being really shitty about the whole thing. I mean, Mandy got into some pretty serious places—like, we’re talking about some of the best schools in the country—and so naturally all of these kids who didn’t get in are like: How the fuck did this idiot get in there? It’s probably just because she’s famous.

  And it’s like: Sure, I wouldn’t put it past some of these places to just let Mandy in because it would be really dope for them if she went there and it would give them all this free publicity, but like, Mandy fucking deserved to get into those schools. Like, I basically annoyed the shit out of Mandy until she told me what she got on her SATs, and I looked up what her score meant on my phone, and it was like: Whoa. Okay. I mean, we’re talking genius level. Seriously. And, meanwhile, all these idiot kids are posting shit like: If Mandy goes to my school, I might as well burn my diploma because it means nothing. I mean, obviously that’s not everybody—like, obviously, there are some really cool, like, really amazing kids who are being like: Mandy! Choose us! We love you!—but there were a few things I saw online that were just really mean-spirited, and it’s like: Why WOULDN’T you want to go to school with Mandy? You would be LUCKY to share the same space with her.

  I texted her today when I was looking at all this shit being like: Yo, are you okay? A lot of nasty shit’s being said about you.

  And Mandy was like: Oh, is there? She hadn’t even heard about it.

  I explained to her what people were saying, and I was like: Fuck these people, man. They’re just jealous. And Mandy didn’t even say anything. She just sent me this article with the headline: “Greenland Is Burning.” And I clicked on it, and it was about how, for the first time ever, Greenland has been having these uncontrollable forest fires because the permafrost that used to cover the ground there has melted away, and now they’re finding out that what’s been underneath it this whole time is peat—basically, just like, pure decayed vegetable matter: pure CO2. According to the article, the fires have been burning for weeks, and no one knows how to put them out. Instead of spreading around like regular wildfires, they just burn straight into the ground.

  * * *

  I think I finally figured out the dad moment in the video game, by the way.

  I was driving through Iowa with Deez this afternoon—he hopped on the tour for a few nights in Chicago and Cincinnati, and now we’re heading to a show in Des Moines before we hop on a plane again and chill out for a few days in L.A.—and Deez was getting blazed as we were passing through this giant field of cows—like, legitimately, thousands of cows on either side of the highway—and I was looking out the window, and it dawned on me:

  I know what would’ve happened if I found my dad before he killed himself.

  I know what would’ve happened if I busted down the door to the old house and found him in my room with the gun in his mouth and his finger on the trigger.

  I know what would’ve happened if I screamed: Dad, stop! Or if I pulled out my guitar and started to play something for him.

  I know.

  He would’ve looked at me, and he would’ve smiled, and he would’ve gone ahead and pulled th
e trigger anyway.

  I mean, actually, me being there might’ve made the whole thing better for him—it might’ve made the gesture even more complete.

  And so there’s really no point in imagining the whole scenario.

  Actually, I’m kind of starting to doubt the whole video game if I’m being honest. Not just because it keeps getting more and more expensive and not just because it’s probably gonna look like shit when it’s finished, but I guess it’s just starting to feel ridiculous to imagine any sort of alternative to the way things are. I’ve just started to feel like maybe everyone could only ever be exactly who they turned out to be. Maybe that’s just some law of the universe.

  I was always gonna be me, and you were always gonna be you, and my dad was always gonna be my dad, and Mandy was always gonna be Mandy, and the guys who did that shit at her concert were always gonna be the guys who did that shit at her concert, and my mom was always gonna be my mom, and Bob was always gonna be Bob, and Patrick and Curt and Mo were always gonna be Patrick and Curt and Mo, and Deez was always gonna be Deez, and Trick was always gonna be Trick, and Chris Jeffries was always gonna be Chris Jeffries, and Oddvar was always gonna be Oddvar.

  * * *

  My second to last day in L.A., he just shows up at my house.

  We had just finished the state-by-state leg of the tour—I was back for a few days to recharge and get my bearings before we got on the plane again—and I guess Oddvar must’ve known I’d be taking a few days off, because he shows up at the gate in a taxi, and he’s like: Hi! I’m in Los Angeles now! Can I come in?