Carrie Fisher - Postcards from the Edge

Another bad pun. She’ll never read your script. Just stay with it, though, don’t keep apologizing. She must hate me now. I sound like someone who wears Vitalis.

“Okay, here we go. Here we go.”

I’ll never forget this in my whole life. I’m making anecdotal history. I’m pushing Suzanne Vale on a swing. People will think we’re in love. Maybe we can be in love.

“Is that high enough?”

Don’t make any puns on the word high. Just let it go. Be quiet. Listen to the wind, the trees…

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

Shhhh! Don’t talk. Just enjoy the moment. Be totally in the moment. I hope no one else comes over. I want to burn this image into my brain. I’m pushing Suzanne Vale on a swing in the park next to the drug clinic…

DAY THIRTY

I spent the morning in the park with Alex. He’s not a bad guy, really—but he’s not a great guy, really, either. He did push me in the swing for a very long time, though. There are two things that I know for certain guys are good for: pushing swings and killing insects.

It’s such a bizarre scene in my mind: the guy junkie pushing the girl junkie in this little kiddie swing with all these little kids squealing and running around, with their mothers sitting on the benches watching. All those little children and two huge ones.

Alex told me he’s writing a script about the clinic. Being here is probably the most colorful thing that ever happened to him. He should call it Rehab! “Just when you thought it was safe to go back into your coke vial.”

I can’t wait to drive! Maybe I’ll go to the movies tonight. I heard Doctor’s Orders was pretty good. Anyway, I’ve enjoyed writing this journal. Maybe I should start keeping one at home. It would have to be good, though, in case they publish it after my death.

Sid and I are going to an AA dance in the valley on Thursday. Maybe I’m going overboard, but what the hell…

I must be brainwashed, because it feels so clean when I think.

Notes on Rehab Movie

Suzanne left today. I feel really good about the connection we made in the park. It took a long time, but I think it was worth waiting for. I’m glad she didn’t get to know me before, when I was such a creep. She’s great. If she lost just five pounds, I’d marry her.

I think her suggestion that I keep a journal for my script was a good one. I wish I could see her journal. She’s no writer or anything, but she is Suzanne Vale. I wonder if she’ll publish it.

I wonder if there’s anything in it about me…

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was in a production meeting. Did my secretary call you?”

“She did,” she said. “It’s all right, I brought my book.”

“What are you reading?” he said. “Maybe I can option it. Oh, great. Siddhartha. ”

“Actually, I’m re-reading it,” she said.

“A smart actress,” he said. “I love it. What’s your IQ? Mine’s one forty-eight.”

“A genius producer,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “For all the good it does me in this town.”

“I love that they call it a ‘town,’” she said. “I imagine there’s like a dry goods store, and a clock tower, and a postman: ‘Hey, good mornin’, Mr. Phelps, how are ya? How’s that rheumatism?’ The ‘town’ of Hollywood. Tinseltown. ‘Howdy, I’m the mayor of Tinseltown, and I’m here to welcome you to our fair city. How are ya?’”

“Funny, too,” he said. “Andrea was right. I’m gonna like you.”

“So,” she said. “Do you remember your college board scores, too?”

“Six ninety-six on the English,” he said. “Seven sixty-six on the math. I went out with this girl once who told me she wanted to stick her tongue in my mouth to get closer to my brain. She was a bimbo .”

“How did you meet Andrea?” she said.

“Through Candy,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, she’s great,” she said. “When I was little, I always wanted to look like her. You know, growing up in L.A., there’s such an emphasis on looks. I mean, even in school, I decided what I was gonna wear the next day before I did my homework. There was this girl in my class, Beth Ann Finnerman, whose knee socks always stayed up, and mine seemed to sort of rumple toward the ankles. And I really thought my life would be better if I could do things like have my knee socks stay up.”

“Well,” he said. “You look fine to me.”

“I’ve recently found,” she said, “that to keep up my appearance, it has to be through health. I used to think this was corny, but I guess ‘healthy’ equals ‘attractive’ now, you know?”

“Should we order?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I realize I’m talking a lot, but I don’t want you to think I’m nervous. Maybe I am , but I don’t want you to think I am. I skipped lunch today, and whenever I do that I get really wanged out. Also, I should tell you that I’m on Pritikin. My cholesterol is way up. I could have steamed vegetables or a little protein, like chicken. I mean, I’m not like a fanatic, I’m just trying out the Pritikin thing. Anyway, I don’t go totally over the edge with this, but I do like to know. To be educated in these things, so when I do choose to eat a refined sugar or an oil or an animal fat product, I at least know what I’m doing. That I’m turning my arteries to pizza. And no eggs, ever .”

“You don’t—” he said.

“Oh, and I haven’t had any caffeine since I started meditating a week ago,” she said.

“You don’t have any eating disorders, do you?” he said.

“Actually, I’m a failed anorexic,” she said. “I have anorexic thinking, but I can’t seem to muster the behavior.”

“I dated a girl for a while,” he said. “It turned out she was bulimic, which I didn’t know at the time, but she had a great body. I guess that’s how she did it.”

“I could never be bulimic,” she said. “I could never make myself throw up.”

“You’re so open,” he said. “I like that.”

“In a woman?” she said. “Listen, it’s too complicated to order something special. We’re at Pasta Hello, I’ll just have the lasagna.”

“You’re sure?” he said. “Great. Waiter, two lasagnas, a Heineken, and… ?”

“Diet Coke,” she said.

“And one Diet Coke,” he said. “Thanks. You know, it’s interesting, you mentioned meditating. A transcendental state on an intense person must be really interesting. I wouldn’t think I’d be one to have a mild transcendental experience. I think I’d go straight for satori. I’ve done some reading on Zen. Certainly, if you could get it through reading, I would have it. Of course, if you go by Zen, it always comes down to, ‘I could make the movie, or not .’ That whole ‘or not’ thing. It’s like, how many Buddhists does it take to screw in a light bulb? Fourteen—seven to do it, and seven not to.”

“Did you hear about the Polish starlet who came to Hollywood?” she said. “She slept with all the writers.”

“Yeah, I know that one,” he said. “I love it. Before I forget, I’ve always thought you had a tremendous quality. I loved you in Mist on the Lake , particularly that scene when you’re standing on the cliff in that diaphanous dress and all that hair, just staring. I gotta tell you, I got hard . And not from your cleavage, from your performance. I mean, you were even good in Porky’s Nerds , and I would have said that was impossible. So, I mean, we’re not talking Pia Zadora here. You’ve got good chops. How did a smart girl like you wind up acting?”