#38—Right ankle. This is Jessie, the little Pomeranian we used to have in St. James. My parents got her around the time that I was born, and she died when I was like, six or seven, I think. My dad accidentally closed the garage door on her one day, and we were all SO sad. LOL.
#80—Right forearm. Each one of these tally marks represents a million views on that first video we uploaded of me singing the national anthem. Since it’s just a bunch of fucking straight lines, I’ve actually been doing these myself, but every time I see Optimus, he tells me what a bad job I’m doing. He’s like: How could you fuck up a straight line, bro? But I’m like: Dude, what are you talking about? These look fine.
* * *
The day after all the shit with Oddvar, I threw a little party at my place celebrating Mandy getting into college.
It was the Fourth of July, so I was planning on having a little get-together anyway, but I was feeling really proud of her, you know, and I knew she wasn’t gonna do anything for herself, so I turned it into a college acceptance party instead.
And we didn’t have a chef or anything—it was just me and Bob on the grill—and my mom was there, and Lenny, and Curt and Mo and Patrick and Gloria and Amelia, and Deez and Trick, and Kelly, and some of Mandy’s brothers and their kids, and all of my mom’s friends, and the camera crew, and we just sort of like, had some beers and set up the slip-and-slide in the backyard and played some music and celebrated.
Bob seemed like he had chilled out a little bit since the show premiered. He was still kind of mad for a while after that screening, and my mom was saying he was still being shitty around the house, but then when The Winstocks actually came out a few weeks ago and it had the kind of impact that it had and it brought in all the numbers that it did, I think Bob just sort of realized that even if the show didn’t turn out the way he had imagined it, it was still gonna be this cultural force, you know, and he could either be a part of it or not. If the point was to use the format of a reality show to connect with people and get into their lives, The Winstocks was definitely doing that, and so if Bob wanted to ride that wave in any capacity, he was gonna have to chill the fuck out and start being more supportive of my mom, because there was no changing the fact that she was at the front of the surf board: It was all gonna happen with or without him.
He’ll still every once in a while try to take control of the show in little ways: like, now that they’re filming the second season, whenever the cameras are around, he’ll try to get their attention by talking about something really strange or controversial, and he’ll try to insert himself into conversations that my mom is having with her friends for no reason—like, he’ll go into the kitchen if my mom is in there talking with somebody, and he’ll just start doing the dishes, you know? Like, Bob never does the dishes, but he’ll just start doing them so that he can chime in and be included, and he’ll try to say all this shit that he thinks will sound interesting, but since it has nothing to do with what anyone’s talking about and since it’s all kind of forced and awkward, it always ends up just falling flat, and then sometimes one of my mom’s friends will look into the camera like: What the fuck is he talking about?—but, for the most part, Bob’s been keeping his shit together. I mean, honestly, I’m a little worried that when they start editing the second season, Bob’s gonna end up looking like this crazy person, you know? Or like, some really annoying roommate who’s always hanging around in the background and won’t shut up. But whatever. He can handle it. As long as he’s not fucking with my mom’s vibe, I’m good. He pretends that he doesn’t really care about the show and that he was never that invested to begin with, and my mom pretends that she believes him, and that honestly seems to be working for everybody, so I’m not gonna rock the boat.
The show’s already totally changed the game for her just in terms of her business and her image and all the different opportunities it’s been opening up. She’s been going on talk shows and getting all these orders online for her stuff and getting profiled in magazines, and, for the first time since she was thrust into the spotlight however many years ago, it feels like she’s being looked at for her, you know, for something she’s doing for herself, so she’s honestly just been kind of busy. She kind of seems like she’s too busy to really think about Bob at all. She never wants to talk about it. And, so far at least, Bob’s been able to keep his shit under control to the extent that it’s not blowing up in anyone’s face, so I guess that’s all you can ask for. I mean, I don’t know. It’s kind of insane how low the bar has been set when it comes to the behavior I’m calling acceptable—like, my mom is supposed to be thrilled that Bob is basically doing the bare minimum of not completely ruining a good thing that’s happening in spite of him—but, as long as my mom is fine with the system they’ve set up for themselves, who am I to say it’s unsustainable? I’ve definitely seen worse. She’s definitely been inside worse.
I guess I’m just kind of surprised, you know, that it’s even possible for someone like Bob to be like this. I mean, I know that probably sounds hilarious to a lot of people, like, especially the people who have been wary of Bob from the start—I’m sure for them, it’s just like: Yeah, this is what guys like Bob do. This is who they are—but I guess I’m just really confused about how you can make it through life this long and have a whole career as a writer and a thinker and still be such a little bitch. LOL. Like, I used to think it was kind of annoying when people would say that Bob was such a man, you know, that all the things he was saying could only be said by a man whose life had been just like Bob’s—I used to just kind of be like: Yeah, okay, sure, I mean, you’re right, but that’s not the point. What about all the other stuff? What about the interesting stuff?—but now when I look at Bob, it’s really hard to see anything other than a little rich boy who can’t even be proud of his wife. I mean, it’s actually fucking pathetic. I’ve been trying to think back to all the things he’s written that have actually changed my life, or like, all the conversations we’ve had that have been sort of mind-blowing or next-level, and it’s impossible to get it out of my mind that he’s losing his shit right now over a reality show. Like, that’s actually what he’s doing. He actually can’t handle the fact that my mom stole The Winstocks from him. And, meanwhile, Bob’s whole thing is about truth, you know—his whole MO is about being really honest with ourselves and investigating all the ways that we’re committed to bullshit and all the ways we’re prevented from being free—but it’s almost like he’s never actually taken a minute and been like: What kind of bullshit am I committed to? What kind of weakness is actually holding me back? He says he does: like, in all his books, he says that he’s been so ruthless with himself, so unsparing. He says that his entire philosophy is a process of throwing out past selves until he arrives at a new one. But what does that all amount to if it ends up looking like this? It’s not even disappointing, you know? It’s just really, really sad. And more than that, it’s boring.
I think that’s probably why Bob’s never dealt with it: because he thinks he’s entitled to only think about interesting things. He’s assumed for all the decades he’s been alive that if something is boring, that must mean it’s not worth thinking about. And I bet whenever anyone would bring it up with him, he would just be like: This is boring. Why can’t we talk about something else? I mean, actually, I know he would do that. He used to do that shit to Mandy back in the day whenever she would ask him why he said that thing about gay people or why he was saying that people like her parents were barely alive or even just why he was being such an asshole to her, you know? And I used to watch the two of them arguing and think: Bob’s right. This IS boring. Mandy is making us think about boring things. But the truth is that a lot of shit is boring—a lot of really important shit is boring—and if you create a situation for yourself where you’re afraid of thinking about the boring shit, where you don’t even want to look at the boring shit for more than a second because you think that it will make you boring, what actually ends up happeni
ng is that you do become boring. Your worst fear comes true, and it’s only happening because you’re afraid of it. And at a certain point, that becomes the difference between children and adults, you know? You can say all the crazy shit you want, and you can be the smartest person in the room, but if you’re talking to an adult and you haven’t dealt with your boring shit, at a certain point, they’re gonna be like: Oh. This is a child. And then, in their mind, they’re gonna be done with you. Or, at the very least, they’re gonna put you in a box where they put children who look like adults.
I mean, honestly, that seems to be what Mandy’s been doing with Bob. Ever since she had her sort of awakening, she and Bob disagree on like, absolutely everything when it comes to the world, but they seem to at least be getting along a lot better and having a good time talking to each other. And for a while, I thought it was because they were finding some common ground, but now I think it’s just because Mandy can see that Bob is a child, you know? She’s not really bothered by him anymore. She can just sort of laugh at him now.
At a certain point during the party, Mandy and I found ourselves alone in the house. I’m saying it like it was an accident, but Mandy sort of tugged at my sleeve and started walking in, and I followed her. And I was thinking like: Whoa, okay, maybe this is starting up again, you know? I mean, there’s been something about Mandy that’s been like, really sexy recently. Or, beyond sexy even: She’s just got all of this confidence—like, she’s got this AURA around her. Whatever vibe she’s on right now is one that I want to get closer to.
So we went down into my studio, and I turned on the lava lamp down there and got us some beers, and Mandy noticed that the video game was open on my computer, and she was like: Whoa, what the fuck is THIS thing? And I was like: Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot to close that. My first impulse was to lie about it and keep it a secret—you know, because I’ve been pretty committed to no one finding out about it until it’s done—but then I thought about it for a second, and I was just like: You know what? I’m not even sure I like this thing anymore. I’d actually be really interested to see what Mandy thinks about it. So I said to her: This is the thing I’ve been working on. You wanna see it?
And Mandy was like: Yes.
So I sat her down in front of the computer, and I told her about the concept of the game a little bit, and I loaded up one of the early demo levels, and I watched her play.
It was the level where you’ve just arrived in L.A. and you meet Mandy at the head of the label’s place in Malibu, and you have to play this, like, little flirting mini-game in order to get with her. It’s mostly just little conversation trees—Mandy asks you if you miss St. James, and you have a few options, like, “Nah, not really,” or like, “Yes, all the time,” or like, “Yeah, but L.A.’s amazing!”—and depending on what you say and depending on what she says like, the flirting either goes really well or it goes really badly. And even if it goes badly, like, the whole time you’re there, there are still all these other people at the party who give you boosts here and there and give you extra bonus points whenever it looks like you’re about to lose, so you have to be trying really hard if you wanna fuck it up.
And I expected Mandy to kind of think it was cute and like, maybe remember what it was like to be around at that time, you know, remember what it was like to fall in love with me, but instead, at a certain point, she just pushed the keyboard away from herself and looked down at the ground, kind of pissed, and I was like: Whoa, Mandy, what’s wrong? You don’t like it?
And Mandy was like: We were so young then … We weren’t even people …
And I was like: No. LOL. We were babies.
And Mandy was like: We were child soldiers. We didn’t own a single part of ourselves.
And I was like: I guess not. But it really felt like we were in love then, didn’t it?
And Mandy was like: So many things felt real that weren’t. We were the last people on Earth who would’ve known the difference.
And there was this silence for a bit, and we both just kind of sat there, and then Mandy looked at the video game for a second, and then she looked back at me, and she was like: Would you quit?
And I was like: Quit what?
And Mandy was like: Being famous.
And I was like: You mean, just like, walk away? Do what you’re doing?
And Mandy was like: Yeah.
And I didn’t say anything for a while, and then Mandy was like: You think that it’ll feel like dying. But it won’t. Once you do it, it’s as easy as taking off a pair of headphones.
And I still didn’t really know what to say, and so Mandy was like: We’re still so young. We can still be whoever we want to be.
And I was like: I’m being whoever I want to be.
And Mandy was like: This is who you want to be? This?
And I was like: Yeah.
And Mandy was like: Why?
And I was like: Because … I’m showing people what it’s like to be free.
And Mandy was like: You think you’re free?
And I was like: Freer than a normal person at least.
And Mandy was like: You are the biggest slave on the planet. You are an advertisement for a fake world. You think you’re the CEO, but you’re not even on the board. Just because people are staring at you doesn’t mean they admire you. They want to eat you. And of course they do. They’re starving. You’re the cheap fuel that keeps the whole thing running.
And I was like: You want me to stop being famous? You want me to just become a normal person?
And Mandy was like: You already ARE a normal person. That’s all anyone can ever be.
And I was like: Then how come I don’t feel like one?
And Mandy was like: You wanna know the difference between a normal person and a famous person?
And I was like: What?
And Mandy was like: A famous person is just a normal person who thinks they exist.
And right then, really loudly, “Be My Baby” started playing on my computer speakers. In the game, if you don’t select anything for a while in the conversation trees, it just automatically gets you together with Mandy, and so Mandy and I both looked over at the screen as this cut scene started to play of the two of us walking down to the beach and having our first kiss.
Sitting there with Mandy, watching the two of us kissing in the game and listening to my thirteen-year-old voice doing all this crazy shit on the soundtrack, it was like, all of a sudden, time stopped, and I could see the future.
I saw Mandy, and she was sitting in an office somewhere at some university, and she was a professor, and all over her walls were posters for different talks she had given or different conferences she had organized, and on her shelves were all these books—books she was reading and books she had written—and in the little corner of her office, not hidden or anything, but just not given the front and center placement, there was a picture of her from the Mobilize tour. Just a little framed picture—it felt like the kind of thing she’d show her students sometimes when they came in and be like: Look what I used to do. Look who I used to be. And they’d laugh and be like: WHAT? LOL. Or maybe they’d already know about it, but they’d still just be like: Whoa, Professor, you’ve had the craziest life experience. It was like Mandy was able to have such a sense of humor about it, you know? No anger, no resentment, just: That’s life. That’s where life can take you.
And even though I could see Mandy so clearly—like, even though Future Mandy was coming in loud and clear—I found myself thinking: What’s gonna happen to me when I’m that age? Where am I gonna be when Mandy’s looking like this?
For all the time I’d spent in the video game trying to figure out how I got here—like, trying to think about all the other people I could’ve been if I had made different choices or if I had walked into different situations—I hadn’t really spent any time thinking about the person I was going to be. I’d thought about whether anyone was gonna be listening to my music a thousand years from now,
and I’d thought about how all the stuff I’d already done was gonna be remembered or if it was gonna be remembered at all, but I’d never actually thought about what I was gonna be like when I was fifty, sixty, seventy years old. And it’s like: Why not, you know? Why didn’t I try to make a video game about THAT? Was it just because I’d been so locked into the moment, so focused on living in the here and now, that it didn’t seem worth my time or my energy? Was there some part of me that didn’t think I was gonna make it that far, or that the whole world wasn’t gonna make it that far? Or was it actually something deeper? Was it actually that I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that all the work I needed to do, all the stuff I was here for, was happening right now—the golden age of me being able to be this guy, live this life, was happening right at this very instant—and so if I could see what the world had in store for me, I would just be like: Fuck it. What’s the point?
But I was feeling kind of … I don’t know. I guess I was feeling kind of inspired by how brave Mandy seemed to be these days. I was feeling like if it scared me so much to think about this shit, like, if I was so worried about what I was gonna see when I looked into the crystal ball, that meant I had to do it. And, like, maybe my life was about to unravel. Maybe if I thought about it really hard and I was really honest with myself, I was gonna see something that was so clear and so convincing that I couldn’t unsee it.
But I was there, and I was feeling brave, and so I entered into the space of total possibility. I submitted the question to the universe: What’s going to happen to me? Who am I going to become?
And the universe answered back with this naked, saggy, tatted old man.
LOL.
Or, I mean, it wasn’t exactly like that. It wasn’t that simple. I was staring into this giant void—it was like a loading screen in a video game, you know, where you can still sort of walk around as the character but none of the surfaces have loaded and you’re just sort of lost in the matrix—and all of a sudden, right in the middle of the void, I saw myself, sixty years in the future, standing there, naked, looking right at me. I still had all my tats—or at least most of them—but I was like, an OLD man, you know? My skin was saggy as shit, and like, I had all those weird splotches that old people have, and some of my tats had faded really badly, and some I had covered up with other tats or like, well, I guess I must’ve had them removed, and there were all these new tats—so many of them—and I had no idea what most of them signified. There were some that were just dope as shit and that’s clearly why I got them—like, there was this one of an alligator on my neck that was like, I mean, I don’t know if it was Optimus that did it, but if it was, then he really steps up his game in the future—but most of them clearly had all this deep significance that I just didn’t understand yet: It was like looking at hieroglyphics from the future. And it was all a little overwhelming, because like, obviously, I wasn’t just focusing on the tats: I was looking at my body, and I was staring into my face, and the future me, the old man me, wasn’t smiling or frowning or really doing anything at all. He was just there, you know? He was just this person. I had clearly stopped working out, and it’s not like I looked unhealthy or crazy or anything, but I just looked like an old man: I had a little potbelly, and I had that weird turkey-neck thing that my grandpa had, and it was kind of like when you see paparazzi shots of really old famous people on the beach or on vacation, and they’ve got no clothes or like, no hairstyle to communicate that they’re any different from anyone else, and so it just looks like you snapped a picture of some old biker guy, you know, or like, somebody’s dad.
Famous People Page 17