Hippie Squared: Party at Steve’s
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a blogumn by Jeff Rogers
Steve Oglesby
I was at a party at Steve’s. I went looking for the host.
I found him in his studio, on the telephone.
“Here,” he said, handing me the phone, “Say hello to my sister Elaine.” And he walked out.
Steve is one of eleven siblings. I’m never sure of the exact numbers per gender. Steve and Lani tried to fix me up with one of the sisters once. And I’d heard about a few of the others now and again but couldn’t really keep them all straight. They seemed to be a family seeded with geniuses and eccentrics.
So I was game.
“Hi Elaine,” I said, “How are you?”
“I have cancer.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I looked around helplessly for Steve.
“What are you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m a cancer. What are you?”
I almost laughed. “Sagittarius,” I said.
“Vegetarian?”
Why must there always be a surreal moment at a LA party? I can seriously count the number of parties that I've been to that didn't have something strange pop off on one hand.
Also, I can't BEAR when people put me on the phone with people I don't know. It's so uncomfortable. But at least you got a blog out of it. :)
That might be what I love most about an LA party, Ernessa–there's alwasy a reasonable expectation of a surreal happening.
Which brings me to this week's blogumn…
Why must there always be a surreal moment at a LA party? I can seriously count the number of parties that I've been to that didn't have something strange pop off on one hand.
Also, I can't BEAR when people put me on the phone with people I don't know. It's so uncomfortable. But at least you got a blog out of it. :)
That might be what I love most about an LA party, Ernessa–there's alwasy a reasonable expectation of a surreal happening.
Which brings me to this week's blogumn…
So happy to have you. Please come back for another visit.