Hollywood

Barbara Payton at the Purple Dandelion

And a disembodied narrator says: He was in an LA club called The Purple Dandelion. It was 1967. Longhairs were dancing to the elastic music of The Chocolate Watch Band. He was sitting at the bar between a grubby little man who smelled of the street and Barbara Payton, who smelled of the street andContinue reading “Barbara Payton at the Purple Dandelion”

“Before we start—I’m sorry, toots—what’s your name again?” “Beekeeper.” “Okay, Mavis. I just want to tell you that I’m not gonna talk about my marriage. Y’know. To you-know-who…” “Banana?” “Because I’m not here to provide material for the gossip rags. It’s nobody’s goddamn business. Hedda Hopper can go pound sand up her ass—pardon my French.”Continue reading “Hollywood”