Months ago, when my actress friend A. became a recurring character on my blog, I called her and said, “You’ve become a recurring character on my blog. Uh, did I mention that I have this blog?”
She checks in with it now and then. “I read your latest entry,” she said, “about your ‘Notorious Neighbor’.” I could hear her smirk through the phone. She is acquainted with the man*.
“I get a fair number of entries out of him,” I admitted. “Actually, between the two of you, I find much grist for the blogging mill.” I am grateful and appreciative.
“I like to think that I provide you with a little more depth than he does.”
“In so far as a blog entry can be a thing of depth,” I said.
“Do you think he was serious about giving away his living room furniture? Because I really like that couch. Do you think he’d let me have that couch?”
“Will you ask him?”
*Not in the biblical sense. But of course you weren’t thinking that at all. She did, however, find herself watching a paparazzi clip he was in, on TMZ, wondering: “So who’s the bimbo getting out of the car with him?”, and then: “The bimbo has taste. I like her shirt.” Then: “Wait. That’s my shirt. Oh. That’s me.” The video was from a night we all went to Hyde together (I believe I got a blog entry out of it). “You’re in it too,” she told me. “At one point you can see the back of your head. At least I think it’s the back of your head.” She located the video and played it for me. “That is indeed,” I was forced to acknowledge, “the back of my head.”