Tell me you don’t see the very face of evil in that stonewall, please tell me you don’t see it!

A quick jaunt aside. I don’t know how I write.

You call that shite writin?

I usually smoke a bowl and drink a beer or seven then lean over a keypad and see what falls out. I can’t tell you why this is chapter 3 when it should be part of chapter 1. Somewhere along the way I (there will be an impact, crossing my fingers and hoping) decided to turn it into one half men and one half women. Once it got this far written, well, can’t/don’t want to do yet another rewrite, so stuff it and go forward.

As you were.

We now travel back to where it all began

I know, I know. Not very scary so far.

Doing my best here folks but these Kelpie can be elusive, slippery goomers.

I’ve always kind (my Pops loved her, so osmosis I guess) of had a whole Marilyn thing. A few years back when I first started all this ghoulish behavior. I went in search of her star. First by walking down Hollywood Boulevard. Past the weirdness that permeates the place in search of the true dead soul of the real Hollywood.

Finding nothing there my journey led me straight to where she died. Torn down.

Next?

All roads lead inevitably to where she is buried.

Finally my grave stalker fetish has led me to the long sought after, Miss Monroe.

She is to be (Hey wait, didn’t you say it was Bukowski?) my first.

Conveniently she was also part of the Westwood adventure.

A Sadness Filled The Air, Was it my dad?

Yes, she is indeed located right beside”The Spank Master General”

As I wandered the pastoral grounds I take a moment to glance about and try and ponder what it all means.

So many questions remain unanswered.

Is there a God?

Why can’t they make good black and white movies these days?

Can I drink beer in a cemetery?

Still floating in the eternity.

Also here is a personnel favorite. I am aware of facts. She was not a good singer, dancer or actress. I don’t know, just always had a soft spot for her.

So Yes, She Did Get 2 Roses

She was the mythical creature I was seeking in chapter 1

Now I’m not claiming to know shit about anything but that there is one puny excuse of a final resting place for a lady of her ilk.

One of my favorite actresses happens to be near Bela so I figured what the hell, where’s Rita?

Something in the air has changed, it feels different, heavier?

JAESUS, THAT GIVES ME THE WILLIE”S JUST LOOKING AT IT!

I turn completely lost. You ever been to one of these places?

This one has more (back in Culver City again) than 250,000 plots. It was my sworn duty to find lot 196 grave number 6. So I asked for help, or perhaps a map would be in order. The gentleman working on the lawn was an English second speaker so struggling with my frustration at being able to find lot 195 rather easily, but 196 is nowhere to be found?

What gives, I ask?

LET US PREY, DEAR GOD WHERE THE HELL IS 196?

He got on his phone and called someone with a better, let’s say “grasp” of my fanatical desires. This person never appeared, so I continued on with my own lost reality. She has got to be here somewhere. When at least 30 damn minutes of me wandering around tap dancing on grave after grave, I fall face down in absolute exhaustion onto this.

THERE SHE IS, THE GODDESS HERSELF

Alright, so this is getting strange. Now you are telling me that’s the best her estate could do?

So far nothing but kittens and a few weirdly used feminine napkins, but not a single ghost anywhere I’ve been.

Who’s ready to change that?

If I was you I would say not me!

When suddenly, out of nowhere I was overrun with vicious evil sea creatures. They was everywhere, so I was forced to grab me shotgun and blast em all right back to the hell they crawled out from.

I did not know who she was.

The sounds behind me, the sighing of the trees. The movement just off my peripheral, the sky growing dark and ominous?

Somebody is behind me .

Of course nothing there.

I had heard of another grave located right near where I now found myself standing.

Of course it’s her.

I was afraid of this one, the only one (so far) that I approached with trepidation. Kind of wish I had skipped her but where’s the fun in that.

Of course I went to her.

I dreamed of her and her child that night.

I KNOW WHO SHE IS NOW

Poor beautiful roaming soul, then when I saw the name of her unborn kid that was murdered right along with her?

The sky screamed.

Terribly shaken I walked with the dead all the way back to my car. Got in fired up some Bauhaus, wiped tears form eyes and admonished myself for running from the very reason I was there in the first place.

Well, is it real?.

Thank you Jesus, can I drink now?

Yes my son. Partake of copious amounts with vigor.

The queen awaits. I must go to her.

This time off to Glendale. Then this ends, good or bad this one will be the last one!