So anyway, how are you? Are things okay up there in New Hampshire? Who do you hang out with? And how do you spend your days? What do you think about? Are you still painting? I am curious about your impressions of the place now. What do you see? What is your mood like after three terms there? Please write and tell me.
I just went to the kitchen for a Perrier and I overheard this fat old producer croon to this young man who bears a startling resemblance to Matt Dillon that he wants him and needs him. Why am I not surprised? I’ve been in L.A. for a long time, Sean. Nothing surprises me (!). Will you write me?
Love,
Anne
Sept 29 1983
Dear Sean,
Did you get my last letter?
My grandfather got very drunk last night and told me that everything is decaying and that we are coming to the end of something. My grandparents (who are not the most intelligent people) feel that they lived in the Golden Age and they told me that they are glad that they are going to die when they do. Last night my grandfather told me, over a huge bottle of Chardonnay, that he fears for his children and he fears for me. That was the first time I ever sensed any sincerity from him. But he truly meant it. And looking around and seeing on TV about those poor boys in Beirut or Lebanon or wherever the hell they are and hearing about these drug dealers who were all stabbed to death in the hills last night, I have to agree with him to a certain extent. I keep feeling that people are becoming less human and more animalistic. They seem to think less and feel less so that everyone is operating on a very primitive level. I wonder what you and I will see in our lifetimes. It seems so hopeless yet we must keep on trying, Sean. (I told you I was becoming more philosophical lately.) I guess we can’t escape being a product of the times, can we? Write back, please? Still having fun in the sun!
Love,
Anne
Oct 11 1983
Dear Sean,
Did you get my other letters? I’m not even sure if you are getting them. I just keep writing you letters and sending them off and I feel like I might as well be stuffing them into bottles and tossing them into the Pacific off of Malibu.
I can’t believe I’ve been here six weeks! My grandparents told me a few days ago that they very much desire for me to stay here for a year. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I’d rather be locked in the Galleria for a year! Yes, I do like being out here. I’ve had more adventures and know more about the world than I’d have thought possible. L.A. is an exciting place to be and my depression has left. But there is a difference between visiting here and staying, living here. I don’t think I could stand being here forever. L.A. is like another planet. I mean, all these thousands of blond-haired, blue-eyed tan surfers with perfect bodies wandering the streets, driving to the beach to catch the waves in their new Porcshe’s (and they are all stoned) and the beautiful older women listening to KROQ in long black Rolls-Royces, trying to find a parking space on Rodeo Drive—I don’t know, it all strikes me as a bit odd. I am kind of tired of hanging out at the same clubs night after night and laying by the pool doing all this incredible coke. (Yes, I’ve tried some of the white powder-everybody, simply everybody, does it out here and I must agree with them: it definitely does make the days go by faster.) I use to enjoy it and it’s not that bad but I don’t know how much longer I can take it! Each day seems exactly like the day before. Each day seems the same. It’s weird. It’s like watching yourself in the same film but with a different sound track each time you watched it. If you saw me here in L.A. at Voila’s or After Hours, you’d probably tell me what you told Kenneth when he asked you (I told him to ask you! Surprise!) what you thought of me and you said “That is a very sad, affected girl.” (Oh, don’t be embarrassed-I don’t hold it against you. I forgive you, so don’t worry.) Well, that’s only part of my life in L.A.
My time at the studio is much more interesting and exciting. I’ve met so many famous actors and actresses the past month or so. My grandfather seems to know them all. I must have been to about a million screenings. And I’ve looked at twice as many scripts. Also, I’m picking up a fair amount of “studio lingo” and a lot of the business aspect. It’s all very exciting.
I know I should write about this place but I can’t come out with a coherent story. I don’t have a firm enough grasp or base to write from. There’s really not a whole lot to assimilate or see. It’s just that I don’t have enough time, with all the parties and screenings and my job at the studio and all…. By the way, how is your painting going? Are you still painting? I know you’re busy and you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to but I would love it if you would send me a poem or a sketch or anything you’ve produced lately but even more than that I hope you are as happy and as healthy and as fulfilled as I am. And if your life is not too turbulent I would be very happy to get a letter from you. Just one.
