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I had drinks tonight w/Stephanie and Damien, whom you know I’ve cast in my Fringe Play, DARK ARTS, to talk about the project. <<<< shameless plug
The clouds swooped in tonight as I left for West Hollywood, a chill took to the air. I walked towards the restaurant on Santa Monica boulevard as a light, cold wind whistled through the streets. I jammed my gloved hands in the pockets of my jacket.
I spent an uneventful 90 minutes with them. So much to learn, so much to create together. I am stoked.
At the end of the evening, Stephanie checked her phone and said, “Darren just texted me”.
“What about?” I asked.
“Just wanted to know if we were meeting with you.”
“What,” said Damien, “you mean he just wanted to know if you were with Lawrence and me?”
[How would Darren know this? Only two people out there knew about this meeting. And I know they haven’t been compromised. So perhaps I’m being hacked n’ tracked. And if I were being tracked, why would Darren have been the ultimate recipient of that information? Or are one of the two people sitting in front of me not who they claim to be, and perhaps passing on information?]
“Yeah,” she said. “Why is he being so paranoid?”
“I guess some stuff has been going down with the new show,” I said, perhaps somewhat coyly.
“I don’t want to get involved,” She said, “I’ll end up going down the rabbit hole.”
“Have you seen him?” I asked.
“Not since the book party”. She shuddered playfully. “It was terrible. I tried to save the food. Why were they pouring gasoline all over the food?” We laughed. I only laughed on the outside.
“I just saw you run back in afterwards. I’m just glad you didn’t die a third time in front of me.” I thought wistfully of her prone body lying at the foot of the sacrifice stage. And yet, her she was, alive and well. How fortunate for us all.
“Have you spoken to Clint?” She had not.
We veered into other topics, including Damien’s past, which included a stint at MI-5, and our mutual love for the James Bond series. I thought Diana Rigg was the best Bond girl for Bond, but had a tough time choosing between her and Eva Green. After dissecting the movies far too much, Damien showed me photos of an Aston Martin he purchased years ago in the UK, which he sold to come here. By coincidence, Stephanie said she was showing Bond films to a group of elderly folks she spends time with a couple of times a week. Of what relevance might this be? It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Other than the fact that a certain writer knows of my love for the series. But let’s not stack up conspiracy theories just yet.
That comes later.
I went to the restroom and returned, half expecting them to have been disappeared and replaced by Noah. The only thing there was the check. I was somehow relieved. And yes, I bought. That’s how I roll, but don’t get any funny ideas.
We went outside and Damien hopped into his non-Aston Martin. Stephanie called an Uber. The wind had picked up. It was chilly now.
“I don’t know what to say to Darren,” she said.
“Just tell him I say hello and that……everything is fine.”
“I’m not going to reply. He’s the only director I would do that to. I just can’t get sucked into this,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah, I drop in now and again to make a little joke or spout off some nutty theory. I’m being patient and waiting to see what develops. But it is getting a little weird. I guess Darren went off the grid for a couple of days. Went to Panama. Came back and said—“
[I’m going in. Cover me.]
“That he and Clint had been kicked off the project.”
“I heard that they had lost some money,” she nodded.
[I thought you hadn’t seen Darren since the book party. And hadn’t spoken to Clint. How would you know this?]
I filled her in on poor Bryan’s hotel encounter with the meth-head skanky whore.
And then I mentioned the Shadow People.
She looked at me, bemused. “Shadow People? That’s kind of creepy”.
Suddenly from behind us came a loud WHACK. Almost like a gunshot. Or a champagne bottle cork.
The wind had toppled over a chalkboard sign outside the restaurant.
We both seized up, startled. Inside, I was the proverbial cat that just hit the ceiling with claws digging into the wood. We looked at each other and laughed nervously. Okay, that was creepy.
I mentioned that certain Shadow versions of us had appeared on the boards. Clint had one, a mysterious troll named Tyson, and so on. Oh yeah, and me, too.
“You?!”
“Yeah, because I had come up with this kooky theory about the Shadow being a theme in the show. And Shadow Me showed up and made fun of me but also kind of admitted that I was right. I mean, I called it a Shadow after my interest in Jung. I guess it could be an evil twin, or double, or doppelganger.”
“I like Shadow Person,” she said, my head swelling with pride until it popped. “Doppelganger sounds kind of friendly. Oh, hi, this is my doppelganger”.
“I guess someone ran into Darren at a show and demanded to see his Tension tattoo,” I said.
“We should have a code,” she said, jokingly. I DID NOT THINK IT WAS FUNNY.
But we set up a code nevertheless.
I jumped up and down a moment. I wasn’t cold, but she thought I was. Stephanie laughed and said I didn’t have to stay. Like I would leave her, what with fucking Shadow people lurking about? It doesn’t matter if it’s night. Shadows just need a little bit of light to be a Shadow. They can form right there, by candlelight if they need to. Or from a flash of a passing set of headlights of Damien’s poor little American jalopy.
I lied and said I enjoyed the cold. It felt good, I said. Like I was back in New York. In fact, I realized this whole stupid affair was making me fucking anxious again. I was cold but I was also engaging in unintentional psychologically driven acts, like jumping up and down like a fucking pogo stick. What the fuck? Goddammit.
“I guess they created a monster,” I said, referring to TENSION.
“Do you watch Penny Dreadful?” she asked. I had not. It was on my list, I told her. “Oh, but that has Eva Green in it. And Timothy Dalton. Both Bond players,” I said.
“I guess Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s monster are in that,” she said. “I like what they do with Frankenstein’s monster.”
“What do they do?”
“He lives under the stage and does the actors’ makeup,” she said.
“Awww, that’s nice,” I say.
“That’s all he does that’s nice, though,” she laughs.
After some small talk, her Uber arrived, and she got in. As I drove home, I call her, reminding her about a promo shoot we’re doing on Saturday for the play. “Oh, did Darren get back to you,” I ask.
“No. He didn’t respond to me,” she said.
“Well, tell him everything is fine.” I said.
Which it, most certainly, is not.
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Given that I read far too much into everything, seeking answers to clues and non-clues alike to mysteries that may or may not even exist, I was struck by the reference to Frankenstein’s Monster.
The Creature is Victor Frankenstein’s Shadow. He created this being in his own image, but it is ugly and horrible and stitched together from different pieces (of his and other people’s psyches), and ultimately, he tries to ignore it and shun it. To disown it. Which is exactly the wrong thing to do. All that does is make it stronger, and demanding to be recognized. Like in real life.
And in PENNY DREADFUL, or so I just read, it is the Creature who actually operates all the backstage machinery – the metaphor being painfully apparent.
Could all this have been a code? That it is now the Shadows who are in control?
All the talk of 007, of MI-5, of paranoia. Spies. Surveillance.
How could Stephanie have information about losing the money after claiming not to be in touch with them? Would she not have mentioned this at some other point? Would it not have been news? “Oh, man. I’m so bummed. Did you hear that the LUST investors fell through”.
How would Darren know that we were meeting? Only she and Damien would have told him, unless I’m being surveilled. Why not mention it, though? They’re all friends. Why not share the news?
But if she hadn’t seen him since the book party, and our meeting wasn’t actually set until yesterday…
Was Stephanie a Shadow? Damien? Who did I give a code to?
Was I being given a code? A message?
Theories? Clues? Not clues at all but innocent exchanges, all with perfectly logical explanations, and me projecting onto every word?
My analyst would say it doesn’t matter. It is my unconscious picking up on exchanges, that then brings things to awareness, as it may see deeper connections that I do not yet see.
So, my friends, be present. Be aware. Nothing is random, and that’s also true in life. We hear the whispers from our unconscious. The waves of the vast ocean within may wash a tiny shell up from the depths. Don’t walk past it. Pick it up. Examine it.
Then close your blinds. Lock your doors. Be vigilant as you return to your vehicle, looking over your shoulder. Is that the sound of the night wind, or of footsteps creeping up behind you….?
Good night. And sweet dreams.
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Well if they weren’t in on it you may have just got them assassinated.
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Wonderfully written, @larry, thank you. Your warning there at the end might be relevant for anyone in SoCal or even the States, but I’m pretty sure they won’t come calling at my door! I literally live in the middle of nowhere. You won’t even find it on some maps of the country. Still, constant vigilance, to quote a certain auror.
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Thank you @larry I very much enjoyed this!
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Fantastically written as always, @larry.
It’s interesting actually to think more about the Creature, since his time backstage was only the beginning of his arc. With time he began to remember more of the person he once was and the ways in which he was complicit in people being hurt gravely. Once he’d realized that terrible things were going to happen but felt unable to intervene, his solution was to step away from a position he cared about deeply rather than being directly involved in those misdeeds.
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Damn. Yeah I know many of the actors at the book party seem to be in the dark about Lust, but really no clue if that’s also an act. I was talking with one guy I interacted with my first time through the OOA in the mirror room about what’s next and he said he knew nothing outside of the next thing being called Lust. But I think anyone who was there knows something was afoot to at least some extent. I really don’t know what’s the truth anymore (which I guess is their ultimate goal right? To confuse and disorient?)
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I just have this feeling that I am not the fox in this scenario.
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