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Hey, it's me with some thing that might you have interest with some "new matter" as they say. More stuff from me (Jimmy - real name) but more known as Jim. I'm still in the game as they say, still got scripts pushing around. And one piece that's probably pretty good. Well, maybe okay. But beginning, I've got a short piece of writing about some of the women I've known before 17 up to 23 and basically the and same ages of me -- so there. And one 23, actually. All of them from high school and college.
This was around the 80's with Santino, both of us living in Sherman Oaks, California where I was spent writing screenplays and a few features and watching the 'oaks people with actors and writers and talking about girls and finally who reminded the girls we grew up with in the 70's. It all began with our girl friends, old times from 17 to 23. Santino's reading my anti-war material. He was in Vietnam already and never wanted to see it again. He wanted my life way back in there, the music and color and war and I was a Canadian across the river which was a small city filled with American cars being made.,
Before I was hanging out in Detroit across the river and with Sidi and in and holding from McComb College in a hotel room in Howard Johnson's on Grand Boulevard. Outside, ghettos just a block beyond GM's world headquarters. The year before, National Guardsmen with M-16 rifles stops us on John Lodge Freeway looking across the river to Canada. Where I lived. Safe. Now we're driving across to school on the American side to John Ford College. I heard a guy here at Howard Johnson's was shot out at a window and died.
Now I'm here, Mary Hanover, American, beautiful blonde wasp from upper middle suburbs and we're together while her girlfriend cries about a guy who didn't notice her. I listened for awhile and she left . We were all collage people and it was the world for us, we had the whole thing. The whole thing belonged to us. Detroit in 1969, a good place to be for a farm boy from the prairies. I meet a beautiful college girl in Detroit and she lived in the northern part where rich homes thrive. She's rich but doesn't care and across the river far away from across the river where I live with a quiet home but not her life. But she doesn't care and we continue to belong in two different countries and will stay on for the rests of our lives over and over.
Dee..troit in 69, a good place to be for a farm boy again. Crystal, but calls herself Crys. She's three years older and going to U. of D., she taught me all about Scotch one night in her dad's great house in Bloomfield Hills. He was an architect who built it himself, me and Crys in the "conversation pit" putting Cutty Sark and she's got her legs up and says and how pretty she looks, checks. She is. And I'm crazy about her She's never married, got dumped by some guy went to Africa in the Peace Corp and she never got over it. Grad in two years. Syc class. Wanted to join. maybe.
Hang on.
