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HOLLYWOOD, CLASS OF 2001
Copyright 2019 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
N/A
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Things I try not to think about.
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
Nothing yet.
I was looking forward to the new TV show with great anticipation.
When the first episode finally aired, I sat back and watched ....
And then said, “Hey. I think I know that actor. He looks a lot like That Guy.”
I frowned and felt frustrated. Then shook my head. Then smiled.
Whenever I think of That Guy, I tend to do those things.
I continued to study the man on the TV. I did not take any pictures during the only time That Guy and I chatted, and have only my memory to inform me. So it might not be That Guy. But the actor sure reminded me of him. They had the same mannerisms and demeanor.
I tried not to think about what happened. In fact, I try not to, in general.
But I did.
And this is what happened.
If there were a yearbook for each year of Hollywood’s history showing everyone who entered the area in order to be in “The Business,” the 2001 to 2002 edition would have a collection of random photos of everybody in the back, including those of us who showed up that year to work as background actors/extras.
Among the photos would be one of me and That Guy.
We would be sitting on the set of That TV Show, sort of chatting.
I would be one of the new freshmen/extras. He would be one of the upper class-people and quite possibly an actor.
On the day of That TV Show assignment, I was standing near the food with some people I knew from other productions. It was time for dinner.
As I stood there, I heard That Guy -- who was standing nearby with a few other guys -- say something like, “This is how you do it.” He walked over to me, which was just a few steps, and said, “Would you like to go sit down and eat and chat?”
I studied him, then quickly considered all the pros and cons of this situation.
“Okay,” I said, assessing the area and the crowd. There were a lot of people around; if he became aggressive, I could flag someone down for help.
We got our food and found a place to sit, and started eating.
He talked ... and talked ... and talked.
I promptly tuned him out, and felt stupid because I really was not interested in this little adventure after all.
“What?” I said, honing in on his words. “Your name is Famous Musician? [name deleted to protect the innocent and the not-so innocent] Like the musician?”
That Guy said, “There’s no musician with that name.”
“Yes, there is.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Yes, there is.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Yes, there is.” I had seen several articles about the musician in newspapers and magazines during the past few months.
That Guy said, “No, there isn’t.”
I felt stupid, and also disappointed and disgusted. Was this what my life had come down to? Debating the existence of Famous Musician in downtown Los Angeles, while eating dinner on a TV show set? This was not supposed to be happening. I had plenty of experience as a journalist, and was hoping there would only be a couple of assignments as a background actor, before I found something steady at one of the many newspapers in the Los Angeles area. So far, however, no one had responded to my resumes.
I sighed then recovered quickly. That Guy could believe what he wanted. And I knew what I had read during the past year or so. Famous Musician was alive and well.
I said, “I forgot something.” I got up and returned to my belongings and sat there for a long time.
Then I decided to face That Guy.
I went back and he was just sitting there, the way he does now on TV when he has a serious scene. If it’s That Guy.
“You don’t want to be here,” he said.
“No,” I said.
“Okay.”
We returned to our original separate spaces -- he to his friends, me to my stuff and the people I knew from the other productions.
After that, I went about my life, and eventually found the work I wanted, and then more work that I really wanted.
And that was it for a while.
Then the TV show began. That one I was waiting for.
I studied That Guy for many episodes.
Then I decided: The only way the actor in the current TV show could actually ... BE ... That Guy ... was if we had literally and actually worked together on That TV Show. Perhaps I was remembering things wrong. Perhaps That Guy was a body double or a stunt person, or another actor or extra who looked like him.
Finally, I dragged out my records and looked up all my movie and TV credits. Then I looked up That Guy’s credits, and went over them, looking for a match.
I found one.
I looked at all the information for a while, remembering That Guy’s insistence that his name was the same as Famous Musician’s, his insistence that a musician of the same name did not exist, and how he considered my input -- with what appeared to be genuine interest -- that neither he nor Famous Musician should be confused with yet another musician with a similar name.
That Guy does not look like either one of those musicians. Sometimes I wonder about the name he gave me. Perhaps he was practicing his acting skills. He certainly seemed convinced of his story.
I also think about what it was like to be there, in the film and TV industry, and often feel like something did not get finished when I was there. I think about going back to it, because there was something satisfying about the work. Not as satisfying as journalism, but still not too bad.
I think about being back among the creative people and the technical people and the business end of it, and the challenging yet rather rewarding and satisfying routine of being a background actor.
I think about being called to movies or TV shows involving That Guy.
And if I were, and if That Guy said, “Hey, you look familiar,” I would show him this article and and see if he could fill in the blanks.
And if he agreed, I would ask for permission to take a selfie for my own memories, and as a reminder of those days.
Those days of Hollywood, class of 2001.
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