Wednesday, December 08, 2004
ALEX
Uh, yeah...this is why I have got to start carrying my notebook around with me to write down all the shit I encounter on my walks. This is why Beth and I are thinking of making either a film or a TV series called "Walking in L.A," which is basically just about me walking around and all of the crazy people that I run into that feel compelled to share their deepest, darkest secrets with me. Kind of in the vein of "Taxi Cab Confessions," or something.
I met this guy yesterday on my walk. His name was Alex. At first, he seemed semi-normal. Just a guy in his mid-forties out for a morning walk, just like me. He was walking his dog, Chester (I was later informed that the dog's full name was Chester the Molester). He told me that he had lived his whole life in the area, grew up in Encino. Then he immediately launches into this elaborate story, which he prefaces with "Please don't freak out or anything when I tell you this..." Now, when someone starts a story that way, you know it is only going to go downhill from there, but he was walking in the same direction as me and I'm too nice to be rude and tell him to "take a hike," so I humored him.
Now, the story was quite detailed and many of the details made no sense to me, but here is the general gist...
Alex was kicked out of school in 1972 when he was ten years old (he did not elaborate on this), and the day he was kicked out of school he went to this bridge in Hollywood where he built a fire (I am not sure why). It was at this point, and upon seeing the fire, that Jim Morrison pulled up in his limo and told Alex to get in. Jim Morrison asked him if he liked Japanese girls, to which he replied "yes." Jim apparently had a hard time understanding this attraction because "Japanese girls are so flat-chested," but he told Alex that he would set him up with this Japanese woman that he knew. He had the limo driver pull over, and they picked up a twenty-five year old Japanese woman (remember, that Alex is apparently only a ten-year-old boy in this story). Alex refers to this woman as his "girlfriend," but the fact that she was picked up on the side of the road makes me think that she most likely was a prostitute. Now, the details of the rest of the story are kind of difficult to follow, but at one point, they end up at UCLA where the Japanese prostitute "sits on my face," says Alex in a restroom on campus. They then leave to go back to the limo (it is not clear where Jim Morrison is at this point), and the Japanese prostitute goes to get inside the vehicle. The limo driver slams the side door before Alex can get in and drives away. "They raped my girlfriend that night," he tells me.
Alex continues walking, god knows where and at this point, he sees the limo being chased by several police cars, "the unmarked kind," he says. Supposedly, they were chasing Jim Morrison because they knew he had drugs in the car. He was able to evade the police officers and Alex runs into him again later that day. It is at this point, that Jim Morrison gives him a large diamond that just happens to be in the back seat of the limo.
As they are driving along, they see the two detectives from one of the vehicles that had been chasing Jim Morrison's limo earlier that evening. The detectives are raping Alex's Japanese "girlfriend" underneath a bridge. Jim Morrison and Alex then witness the detectives murder his girlfriend. At the last moment, the detectives realize that they are being watched, but Alex and Jim are able to escape.
"Jim Morrison did not die of an overdose," he tells me, "he was murdered by the detectives right here in Los Angeles because of what he saw that night. It was a set-up."
"I'm 42 years old," he says, " and they're still chasing me to this day. My life is in danger."
Now, for those of you who know the story of Jim Morrison's death, he died of a drug overdose in a bathtub in Paris, France in 1971. If Alex is, indeed 42 years old, he would have been 10 years old in 1972 and Jim Morrison would already have been dead by the time this story supposedly takes place.
He goes on though. "Bob De la Paz knew about all of this," he informs me. (he tells the story as though I should know who this Bob De la Paz is, though I have never heard of him before).
"Bob De la Paz was infected with a secret virus in 1972. The detectives gave it to him. They wanted to off him for what he knew. And here is the interesting part. Have you ever heard of the AIDS virus?"
"Yes," I tell him.
"They gave him the AIDS virus. They wanted him dead!!" Alex exclaims.
"They took everything from me. The love of my life is gone. And now I have nothing. Can you believe this? They talk about terrorism in other countries, but what kind of a place is this? If they can just kill the love of your life on the side of the street? And then kill Jim Morrison, too?"
"But I am the most powerful person because of what I know," he continues. "I need to get my story out though. People might think that it is crazy. People tell a lot of crazy stories, but they don't make any sense. Everytime I tell this story, it is the same because it is true. I need to get my story out to the public. Only problem is I don't read and write very well."
"And they're still looking for me. I know that they are. When I was 16, I was taken into custody and they did all of these blood tests on me. They wouldn't let me go. I don't have the AIDS virus, but I think they were looking for it in my blood. I think they wanted to see if I had been infected like Bob De la Paz," Alex says.
At some point, the rambling story was over, and we parted ways and I walked home. But my god. Clearly Alex was delusional. He did not appear to be hallucinating, in my clinical opinion, but that's not to say that he hasn't in the past. Why are these crazy people so attracted to me? It's as though they know that I have been a counselor in the past and a therapist to people even crazier than they are. They feel compelled to spill out their life stories to me. Everywhere I go, I get stories like this one.
Yeah, we're definitely making this show. Because I'll tell you, the truth is often much stranger than fiction.
Uh, yeah...this is why I have got to start carrying my notebook around with me to write down all the shit I encounter on my walks. This is why Beth and I are thinking of making either a film or a TV series called "Walking in L.A," which is basically just about me walking around and all of the crazy people that I run into that feel compelled to share their deepest, darkest secrets with me. Kind of in the vein of "Taxi Cab Confessions," or something.
I met this guy yesterday on my walk. His name was Alex. At first, he seemed semi-normal. Just a guy in his mid-forties out for a morning walk, just like me. He was walking his dog, Chester (I was later informed that the dog's full name was Chester the Molester). He told me that he had lived his whole life in the area, grew up in Encino. Then he immediately launches into this elaborate story, which he prefaces with "Please don't freak out or anything when I tell you this..." Now, when someone starts a story that way, you know it is only going to go downhill from there, but he was walking in the same direction as me and I'm too nice to be rude and tell him to "take a hike," so I humored him.
Now, the story was quite detailed and many of the details made no sense to me, but here is the general gist...
Alex was kicked out of school in 1972 when he was ten years old (he did not elaborate on this), and the day he was kicked out of school he went to this bridge in Hollywood where he built a fire (I am not sure why). It was at this point, and upon seeing the fire, that Jim Morrison pulled up in his limo and told Alex to get in. Jim Morrison asked him if he liked Japanese girls, to which he replied "yes." Jim apparently had a hard time understanding this attraction because "Japanese girls are so flat-chested," but he told Alex that he would set him up with this Japanese woman that he knew. He had the limo driver pull over, and they picked up a twenty-five year old Japanese woman (remember, that Alex is apparently only a ten-year-old boy in this story). Alex refers to this woman as his "girlfriend," but the fact that she was picked up on the side of the road makes me think that she most likely was a prostitute. Now, the details of the rest of the story are kind of difficult to follow, but at one point, they end up at UCLA where the Japanese prostitute "sits on my face," says Alex in a restroom on campus. They then leave to go back to the limo (it is not clear where Jim Morrison is at this point), and the Japanese prostitute goes to get inside the vehicle. The limo driver slams the side door before Alex can get in and drives away. "They raped my girlfriend that night," he tells me.
Alex continues walking, god knows where and at this point, he sees the limo being chased by several police cars, "the unmarked kind," he says. Supposedly, they were chasing Jim Morrison because they knew he had drugs in the car. He was able to evade the police officers and Alex runs into him again later that day. It is at this point, that Jim Morrison gives him a large diamond that just happens to be in the back seat of the limo.
As they are driving along, they see the two detectives from one of the vehicles that had been chasing Jim Morrison's limo earlier that evening. The detectives are raping Alex's Japanese "girlfriend" underneath a bridge. Jim Morrison and Alex then witness the detectives murder his girlfriend. At the last moment, the detectives realize that they are being watched, but Alex and Jim are able to escape.
"Jim Morrison did not die of an overdose," he tells me, "he was murdered by the detectives right here in Los Angeles because of what he saw that night. It was a set-up."
"I'm 42 years old," he says, " and they're still chasing me to this day. My life is in danger."
Now, for those of you who know the story of Jim Morrison's death, he died of a drug overdose in a bathtub in Paris, France in 1971. If Alex is, indeed 42 years old, he would have been 10 years old in 1972 and Jim Morrison would already have been dead by the time this story supposedly takes place.
He goes on though. "Bob De la Paz knew about all of this," he informs me. (he tells the story as though I should know who this Bob De la Paz is, though I have never heard of him before).
"Bob De la Paz was infected with a secret virus in 1972. The detectives gave it to him. They wanted to off him for what he knew. And here is the interesting part. Have you ever heard of the AIDS virus?"
"Yes," I tell him.
"They gave him the AIDS virus. They wanted him dead!!" Alex exclaims.
"They took everything from me. The love of my life is gone. And now I have nothing. Can you believe this? They talk about terrorism in other countries, but what kind of a place is this? If they can just kill the love of your life on the side of the street? And then kill Jim Morrison, too?"
"But I am the most powerful person because of what I know," he continues. "I need to get my story out though. People might think that it is crazy. People tell a lot of crazy stories, but they don't make any sense. Everytime I tell this story, it is the same because it is true. I need to get my story out to the public. Only problem is I don't read and write very well."
"And they're still looking for me. I know that they are. When I was 16, I was taken into custody and they did all of these blood tests on me. They wouldn't let me go. I don't have the AIDS virus, but I think they were looking for it in my blood. I think they wanted to see if I had been infected like Bob De la Paz," Alex says.
At some point, the rambling story was over, and we parted ways and I walked home. But my god. Clearly Alex was delusional. He did not appear to be hallucinating, in my clinical opinion, but that's not to say that he hasn't in the past. Why are these crazy people so attracted to me? It's as though they know that I have been a counselor in the past and a therapist to people even crazier than they are. They feel compelled to spill out their life stories to me. Everywhere I go, I get stories like this one.
Yeah, we're definitely making this show. Because I'll tell you, the truth is often much stranger than fiction.
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