NEP-POE-TISMIn the neverending search for a career move, I've been looking toward using the family name, the Father's (in)fame, and the Hollywood inside game to a) make much more money, b) break out of the horrid/torrid "urban" mold that I've been so wrongfully pigeonholed into and c) tell/sell some of the incredible stories I've lived, witnessed and seen my friends and homies live through. Shit, people see The Source Magazine on your resume and think you're a) illiterate, b) bankrupt, c) a sex-industry worker or d) all of the above. Of which I'm none of the above.
Not for nothing did I a) grow up in Hollywood AND Laurel Canyon, b) spend all that time at Spago afterparties as a pre-teen, c) traverse and travail to Ojai with the family of Harold Ramis (Ghostbusters) and d) save a treasure-trove of mental pictures of various Hollywood and music-biz types sniffing freeze-rock-sugar-cane-blow. I might have been six years old, but trust me I have a memory like an elephant and a mind like a steel trap. Fear me.
After the infamous Neil Portnow liked me until he realized I was my father's daughter so I didn't get the Jive/Zomba gig which was bad, but now that he's El Jefe de los Grammys y NARAS or whatever the fuck it's called today it's even worse...I gave up on THAT side of the family.
So today my poor Mom had to regale me with the story of how she sent a scathing personal letter to an old family friend who is a huge Hollywood producer about how she left her cell phone ringer on during my Grandma's funeral and that she should basically burn in hell for all eternity because of this fact. Mom, don't feel bad, I WANT to work for a woman who leaves her cell phone on during funerals. Trust me she makes the last 15 years of Rap & Bullshitty Business look like nothing with that very act. And when I become the next Kathy Nelson and I'm music-supervising ALL the huge blockbuster films, guess whose tracks will end up in my circular file? You know who you are. Anyways I left a message for the big-time Hollywood producer lady and we'll see if she calls me back.
About an hour later, my Mom calls my cell again (twice in one day, this IS a record) and says, oh oh oh I forgot someone. Linda Perry. Do you remember her? She was at Lorimar Records. Well, of course there's no more Lorimar Records. There's not even anymore a Lorimar Pictures. But, lo and behold, Linda Perry has a MySpace! Of course she does, 'cause she's 4 Non Blondes Linda Perry. And Aguilera Linda Perry. Linda Perry Rocks! And even though my Mom stopped playing drums after appearing on only one album, Marty's Garage, and she may not be rich, or big in Hollywood, or current on her record labels and movie studios, one thing is true. SHE ROCKS TOO.
p.s. I'm at the library posting this and two really cute teenage girls, one with naturally red hair in a fly cornrow design, vocally admire my chain. So I say well my friend KEL, he's a graffiti artist, and he's sort of famous, he makes these... And the redhead girl says, "Oh, my Daddy is a graffiti artist too. He's from WCA. His name is WISK." I LOVE L.A.