July 17th, 1995

## Carrie

\*\*\*Posted July 18th, 1995

**7/17/95**Before you scroll down any further and say, "What the heck is going on?" Let me explain.

I told you guys a while ago that Britt didn't know about The Spot Internet project. Well as long as she was moving in... which she did yesterday (I'll tell you how that went some other time), I figured it was time to enlighten her.

She was stoked. "Rad!" is all she kept saying. I told her the whole back story and why we're doing it. Then I showed her some of my pages. She was totally intrigued and of course said, "I want in!" So I figured she is living here now, even if it's temporary and I'm sharing my room with her, so why not my page?

So without any further adieu... Ladies and Gentlemen of the net may I present my roommate, spotmate and best friend this side of the Mississippi...

Okay --

So, I'm typing this in and people out there - thousands of them - are going to read it? Sure, Carrie. And O.J. really was trying his best to get into those gloves... C'mon, really, is there anyone out there? HELLO?

Britt Allen. Age 23. Height 5'6 1/2". Profession: unemployed bookseller and student of humanity. People I admire most: JFK, famous drag queen Lypsyncha, and my new roomie, Carrie. Hobbies: Alpine skiing. Ant farm.

I suppose the first thing I should say is how really nice everyone is at the Spot, Right? Except that no one here reads each other's entries, so what would be the point of that? Why don't I give you the real story on each of the roommates (okay Carrie - SPOTMATES - gag me) from the perspective of an outsider looking in.

Carrie - Carrie is perfect. (What am I going to say. She's reading over my shoulder.)

Lon - I 've been hanging out a lot with Lon, and, okay I really do like him. This doesn't mean I am blind to his faults, however, so... does the word "cocky" apply here? If cockiness were intestinal gas, Lon would be the Hindenberg blimp. Lon is the kind of guy who thinks the principal advantage of CD's over vinyl is that you can check your profile while you clean them. It's actually kind of cute, because you can pretty much get him to do anything you want. You just have to know what makes him tick.

Saturday at the beach, I watched him get ponged between Michelle (the body) and Joanne (the machine) and even Carrie... he has no idea what he wants, because he wants everything. He wants to lap it all up like a puppy. That's it, I think. I mean, puppies are the most lovable things in the world, but if you let them near anything fragile, its going to get broken. Lon is lovable, alright, but don't let him next to your heart.

Lon's good points are as follows: 1) He's good looking. 2) He seems to take his acting seriously - at least more than most waiters in Los Angeles. Plus, it speaks well for him that 3) he is on a serious quest for a more meaningful relationship. This will be an important growth period for Lon, whose current relationship consists of Joanne showing up every 24 hours to get her undercarriage lubed.

I just hope Lon's plans for a more meaningful relationship don't include Carrie.

Actually, I think I have a lot to contribute to Lon. I've got the rest of this beautiful summer and no job in sight.... I think I'll make it my summer project to teach Lon's ego the lesson of the Hindenberg. Lest you're unaware of what happened to that ill fated blimp, let me just say that a small spark can cause a great explosion when it comes in contact with a large bag of gas. Did I tell you my nicknamed used to be Sparky?

Tara - Sweet, sincere. I really like Tara so far, but God, all the moping and groping for serious meaning in things. Lighten up, girl! And what's the deal with the bald professor? Do you know about these weird, dark interpretations in his Women In Film class? I think there's some twisted radiator hoses under that shiny hood of his. Tara's so young and fresh and pretty, but she lets these strange moody guys do a number on her. Actually, I think I can help her with this... but hey - if there really is anyone out there, please don't spoil it by telling.

I'll talk about Michelle, and Jeff next time. Thank God it's behind their backs!-- and maybe it's time for me to tell my side of the story on that little horndog, Hank. What do you think?

But before I go, I also want to say how excited I am to be here, even if it's temporary. Being at The Spot could be a little like having an ant farm. You can watch everyone going busily about their lives, and if you're quiet, they hardly know you're there. Then every once in while, you throw in a little honey or cheese, or stick a twig in, or shake the whole thing up and make them start over.

Hey, Carrie. This is a most edifying and cool thing, this Spot project. I'll be back.

July 17th, 1995
## Lon

\*\*\*Posted July 18th, 1995

**7/17****I was hanging out with Carrie and Britt last night when Joanne came over...Carrie was nice to her even though I know she's not into her as a person. Britt wasn't nearly so tactful. With every stupid comment Joanne made, Britt slammed her. Joanne would say "I think the homeless problem in Santa Monica is bringing down the value of real estate and it should be played down in the media." Britt cut her to pieces. She was so sharp, Joanne didn't even realize she was being patronized. Britt suggested that the homeless people move in with Joanne whenever the press was around -- then return to the alleys when the coast was clear. Joanne left early for the first time since we started seeing each other.**
**I was having a little trouble getting started today. I am now Lon Oliver-Full-time Actor, with nothing in my way except I'm not sure what to do first. Britt, seeing my dilemma, sat down at the kitchen table with me and helped me map out a plan. We made a hit list of agents. She has a photographer friend who owes her a favor...so she's setting me up with new headshots for free. She even helped me rehearse a monologue I have to deliver in class. Carrie woke up and the three of us went to Taco Bell for a cheap lunch. It's good to have friends...especially when you're unemployed.**

July 17th, 1995
## Tara

\*\*\*Posted July 18th, 1995

**7/17** I love my house mate Carrie. She's a sweet person, and part of me feels very maternal towards her. That's probably why what I'm about to tell you doesn't make me as angry as it would if the perpetrator were somebody else.

As of yesterday, it appears that Carrie took the liberty of inviting her friend Britt to move into The Spot. Carrie didn't bother with an explanation, Jeff didn't throw a fit or even just say "no". It isn't as though there is no room for Britt.... IF we decided (a collective we that is) that we wanted her to move in, it might not be a problem. It's that Carrie didn't even ask.....AND the fact that Britt is paying half of Carrie's rent. It's not that I don't like Britt, I just think there should have been some discussion involved here. Glad I have my own bathroom.

Anyhow, this afternoon, while Carrie and Britt were putting the finishing touches on "their" room, I decided to catch up on some movies I've wanted to see again.

With air conditioner cranking full blast and a full bag of Snackwell's, I curled up with "A Clockwork Orange". I was at the part where Malcolm McDowell was kicking the crap out of this guy while "Singing In The Rain" -- an awesome gruesome moment. I was enthralled (even after my umpteenth viewing)... then Jeff walks in.

He saw what I was watching and threw down his keys. Jeff began kicking the couch and singing along with Clockwork. Before I could even turn around, he leaned over the sofa and gathered my hair into a pony tail so tight, my eyes slanted. Without letting go, he climbed over the couch, and sat right next to me. I looked at him incredulously, and then back at the screen. He didn't once look me in the eye. Not quite like the boys in elementary school tugging on their class mates hair, and not exactly the romantic type planting soft kisses on my neck.....

He let go of my head and started watching the movie, muttering along with the dialogue. Had Jeff made a gesture of (dare I say) affection? I kept doing that thing with my eyes; pushing them all the way to their corners without turning my head. I probably looked as though I were spying; like one of those paintings in the old horror films where they cut the eyes out. Very attractive. After a half hour of such exquisite torture (and no visible response), another element factored into the equation: I had to pee so bad I was afraid I'd wet my pants if something actually DID happen. I got up to go to the bathroom (the one upstairs; I didn't want him to hear me in the one downstairs), and when I returned, Jeff was gone. He left the house.

So what does this all mean? I have no idea.... maybe Jeff wants to play. I'm leaving for Paris on July 22, but until then.... is playing with Jeff like playing with fire? Is he a good guy or a bad guy? The lines are too blurred--help me out here. I'm taking on "Lolita" later tonight. Or maybe I'll save it for when Jeff comes back.

Tara

P.S. The Spot mates are planning a party next weekend -- partly a going away party for me, partly just an excuse to get crazy. We could all probably let off a little steam.