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December 4, 2002 Shot down faster than you can say "Adolph Hitler was a mean-ass art critic." Why the hell can't I sell anything? I get nothing but praise for Duke, and rightly so. He has truly come of age, morphed into a thing of greatness and legend. And all art cars everywhere just got a huge boost with last week's Today Show praise for Harrod's book. But the only gigs I get for the car are the ones that fall in my lap. And heh! Thank God for the fall-in-yer-lap gigs. But here I sit in Albuquerque, New Mexico, recovering from some horrid local flu bug, and this local arts center, the Hard-on or whatever it's called, just slapped me down on what should have been a mutually beneficial art car display/storage gig. No money involved. Just a nice trade. You get this frikken awesome overthetop rockstar art car for FREE for a few months, and in return I get some peace of mind in knowing he's safe and not costing me a fortune in some chainlink storage facility. This after I organized FOR FREE a show of a dozen New Mexico art cars to promote their Hard-on a year or so ago. Fuck em. Here nine days now (after an intended three or four) sole mission: get Duke safely stowed for the winter and then get back to the Gulf of Mexico WHERE ITS WARM! Instead, here I am, no home for Duke, cash supply dwindled to near nada, camped out on my friend Dave's couch, and feeling like I've overstayed my welcome (youth hostels worldwide have a 3-day stay rule - past that, you gotta go). And rightly so. The trick to this weird gig of mine is to keep moving. Never wear out your welcome. Hell, I'm sick of myself sitting here on this couch. Dave's gotta be. Why the delay? Why don't I just pack up and go? Well, Duke, obviously. Then this flu. But to really drag it out, I got stuck in this virtual "Hollywood waiting room" when friend Valerie announced that she was working with casting on a film soon to be shot in Las Vegas, New Mexico, and "Damn, you'd make a perfect stand-in for Val Kilmer, Rick. Can I come over and take some shots of you to show the director?" Uhh. Duh. Yah. Who would say no to that? So she shoots me and her boss is very excited, so we're 75% there. But then of course there's the "She's gonna call you in a few days, but it could be a week." Bamm. Holding pattern. I hate holding patterns. Mind you, I am both flattered and pleased by the opportunity. Stoked, comes closer to the truth. I've been a stand-in before. Jesus! Has it been twenty years? Holy Martin Sheen on toast. 1984. Damn close. Anyway, this film stars Nev Campbell and Val Kilmer. And here's how it works. Martin Sheen and Alan Arkin were the co-stars in that film of long ago. I stood in for Arkin, and invariably Sheen was ready to come on set before Arkin, which left me standing right beside Captain Willard himself with nothing to do but stand there. And talk. But at 17-years-old, I have to admit I was rather ill-equipped to engage this great man, this celluloid being, this camo-war-painted assassin to Marlon Brando's Colonel Kurtz, in intellectual conversation. Still, it was a shining moment in my young life, and it lead to friendships with his sons and one wild week-long affair with his only daughter, Rene. So, ipso facto ergo flamingo, if I am hired to stand in for Val Kilmer, what do you suppose are the chances of my meeting and potentially getting quite familiar with Nev Campbell? Uh-huh. That's right. I told myself I wasn't gonna tell anybody (else - I've told a few) until I got the greenlight lest I jinx it. But I'm gonna eat my cookie and go back out into that living room full of spoon-bending bald children and tell myself that I don't believe in any of that jinx mumbo-jumbo anyway. I'm gonna start to feel better, because I'm gonna remember that I'm in control of my life and I'm gonna get that job because I am as sexy-hunky-masculine a man as Val Kilmer, and his height, eye & hair & skin tone to boot. I'm gonna find Duke a safe winter home and get that job and pretty soon I won't even have to dodge bullets. Because I am the Jiggleman. And on top of all that, I've been getting some great emails lately from great friends, and who could doubt the majesty and magic of life when people write to tell you things like this: "You continue to impress me with your creations- even the ones you just throw And these, from two different women friends: "..a pleasure to hear your voice, which I've always been particularly fond of. If you were a DJ, I'd never turn the channel - no shit." "..in the dark, the phone rings. i don't know where it is so just figure i'll listen, and there's that scruffy boy's voice, and i'd like to talk but i just can't move. in the deep dark of almost-asleep, your voice fills the block, i think, but maybe just my little house, and i wish you'd talk and talk until i drift off, snuggled up in your voice.." Gotta go now. Got a destiny to catch. -His Lordship RSM the Duke of Still Standing, Standing-In
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