NIGHTMARE IN SLO MO

 That's exactly how to describe it. My existence. A nightmare in slow motion. 

A never-ending surrealistic dream - - unfolding like the haunting backdrops of the 1920 German film, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari".

Expressionism supreme.

More about that later.

I had my appointment last Tuesday. My oncologist Dr. Johnson in Cookeville Medical Center.

It went exactly as I thought - - nothing new to tell, a vast waste of time. I don't like my new oncologist. Dr. Sydris (now retired) always strived to get things done.

Dr. Johnson gives the attitude that he doesn't give a crap. He listens to my major concerns. Then says I'll need further tests ( he already has my recent horrifying PETscan). He has no appointment schedule. A nurse said it will be "weeks, not sure when."

So......I'll waste precious time, waiting forever. I know I need treatments right now. I'm holding back on this blog post, not telling everything. I don't want to be an alarmist.

Things are worse than can be imagined.

Rainy day on my appointment. I loved seeing the dramatic sky, with occasional sunlight. My only connection to the outside world.

Here, in Signature, it is my prison. I'm existing on nothing but faded memories. Lifeless. Seriously dejected.

A nightmare in slow motion.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

A masterpiece of German horror/expressionism, 1920. Directed by Robert Wiene. 

Starring Conrad Veidt (remember him in "Casablanca" ?)

I won't go into the twisted plot. The sinister Caligari, and the somnambulist Cesare who predicts and commits murders.

When I was ten years old, I had a horror magazine that had photos from the 1920 Caligari film. I was mesmerized by the photos, but knew very little about the film.

When I was 20 years old, I finally saw the film in a silent movie theater in L.A.

The informative years when I explored everything.

This post didn't interest you, and I certainly don't blame you. It's crap.

I have absolutely NO desire to write, but I currently have an Internet connection. So I forced myself.

Jon, 💚

wondering if I'm still.... alive

P.S.

The Silent Movie Theater still exists on Fairfax in Los Angeles. It opened in 1942 and through the years had different names (The Old Time Movie Theater, The Movie Theater) and different owners.

In 1997, owner Lawrence Austin was murdered in the theater when there was a robbery.

I'VE READ ALL YOUR COMMENTS BUT DIDN'T REPLY BECAUSE I KEEP LOSING MY CONNECTION.

HEART OF THE LOST

 

By some technological miracle, I have an Internet connection so I'm writing a new post. Nothing interesting nor important. Just confirming the fact of my existence. Probably typos, because my right arm hurts so much that I can hardly type.

Before I go into updates, I want to turn back the clock - to the 1st of June, 2023. Now, over three years ago. That was the horrible day when my long medical journey began. I knew at least a year previously that I was seriously ill. A tumor on my pelvis, directly on the main artery, which caused massive hemorrhages. At the time I didn't have medical insurance and was too frightened to get help.

The things I went through were so terrifying that I wouldn't want to describe it on this (public) blog.

Incredibly, during that time I still managed to blog - but my posts were strange, disjointed, depressing. Nobody knew how I was suffering. I hinted....but hints mean nothing.

During this time, I made the video "Heart of the Lost" (the title is from the music, written by Ean Grimm). I posted the video...and no one knew what it meant.

I never revealed my desperate plan. I went into the forest by my house. A final walk. I found a perfect spot nestled in the busom of the trees. I sat there for hours, clutching the ample bottle of pills. 

I yearned for the final sleep, which would come gently....... soon the wild, free spirit of a white wolf would roam forever freely in the peaceful place I loved.

It was as simple as that.

I didn't go through my plan. It was night when I got home.

The 1st of June

I had lost so much blood that I started having mild heart attacks. I could no longer walk. I stumbled to the front porch, called 911, and passed out on the porch.

A long journey....the doctors at Centennial in Nashville told me there was no hope. I was sent back to Cookeville, where I had seven weeks of chemo and radiation.

A guardian angel had mercy.

That's the past. What about now?

Medically, I'm having more problems. I don't want to exhaust myself (or you) with tedious details. After six long weeks, I finally have an appointment with my oncologist in Cookeville (July 14th). Good news.....but I'm apprehensive.

I wish it could have been sooner.

I wish this post wasn't so gloomy. I'm exhausted mentally and physically. My sense of humor has vanished.

Jon ❤️ valiently...hanging.....on

I'll try to post more often, if I still have an Internet connection. Thanks for being there. I know you are.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

 After nearly two weeks without an Internet connection, I finally got a connection this morning. Miracle! I'll try to write this post quickly, in case the Gods of Technology heard me and take it away.

Also, I have such severe pain in my right arm that I can hardly type. I don't want to give a medical update, because it is dismal and my depression is profound. No need for alarm. I'm hanging on by a thin thread, but I'll be damned if I let go.

I'm still at Signature in Jamestown.

Well, with Internet I can order some food from Walmart this week. The highlite (light?) of my dreary existence.

I have a lot to say, but I'll drastically condense. July has arrived. It's in the 90s here, between endless thunderstorms. There was a tornado warning and power outage a few nights ago. No damage.

I hope everyone has a joyous holiday weekend. Be thankful for the positive things you have. They are precious.

I had this doggie for many years. He had an outfit for every month. When I moved to Tennessee, the outfits were there...but the dog was missing.

Jon, patriotic in Texas

Another piano video. These are 

my variations on "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". The photos are not AI, they're original from the Civil War.

Lousy audio  but it's an old tape.

Jon  💙

Just received some bad news from insurance....just what I need to destroy my weekend.

P.S.It's Friday night and another severe storm is here. So much lightning, no need for fireworks.

P.S AGAIN

I think I finally have a much-needed appt. with my oncologist  next week (after nearly two months).

MOONLIGHT AND WATER

I'm not in the mood to blog or write about medical updates. Instead, I'm going to inflict you with my piano videos.

I heard those sighs of disgust.

 For some uncanny reason, my piano videos are unpopular. I'm probably too good (he says with absolute sincerity).

Moonlight and water?

First video:

Claire de lune, from the Suite bergamasque by Debussy.

Truth to tell, I dislike this composition. It's definitely over-played. Every pianist who can crawl to a keyboard attempts to play it.

This video was recorded in my studio in San Angelo. Bad video quality.

Second Video:

The Warsaw Concerto by British composer Richard Addinsell. 

Technically, this isn't a concerto.....but neither is my blog.

The Warsaw Concerto was my personal war horse - - I probably performed this more times than anything else in my piano repertoire.

BTW this is my own arrangement.

I made three or four different videos of Warsaw Concerto. This one - for some unplausible reason - I incorporated the ocean in this video. Heaven knows why.

The first page of my arrangement of the Warsaw Concerto

Jon, yearning for my long ago piano performances, when I was appreciated.....

💚💚

P.S.

I know my medical updates are more important than my music. First of all, things are going so badly that I don't want to horrify you. I'm absolutely miserable. Second, my Internet connection is so sporadic that I don't have time to elaborate.

I'll try to post more often.

Don't forget me.

AT LONG LAST

 

During the past two months, I think I only wrote two blog posts. This is extremely unusual, since blogging is my addiction. I can't stop, even when my posts are crappy ad nauseam.

Despite my flaws....

Wait a moment, Jon. You only have maybe one flaw. You're nearly perfect.

Despite my few flaws, my faithful blog readers never abandon me. They are the sole reason I blog. I would never intentionally abandon my blog......if so, there would have to be a very good reason.

Here's the good reason.

I like my room here in Signature - - but it has one flaw (much like myself).

I can't get a connection to the Internet in this room. I tried everything posssible. Even members of the administration here have worked at it, but couldn't get a connection, either.

Ever since the past few years - when I spent so much time in hospitals and rehab - the Internet has been my only connection to the outside world. I blog, text, email, do online banking, pay my monthly bills, watch endless videos on YouTube, buy food from Walmart, purchase stuff I don't need. I couldn't exist without the Internet.

Cut the endless crap, Jon. Condense. Get to the point!

Hey, amigo, verbosity is part of my charm.

SO...........

the good members of the administration got some kind of technical thingie on Amazon that connects errant phones to the Internet. I truly don't know what it's called or how it works.

Today  it worked!!! I finally have Internet access.

Today was filled with some positive things. I got the Internet, got an air mattress for this uncomfortable bed, and I sat in a chair to get my legs circulating.....

MY NEW AIR MATTRESS

I know you're waiting anxiously for a new medical update.

Unfortunately, it's not positive news.

So much has happened lately that my weary mind is muddled. I completed three weeks of radiation therapy last week. 15 days, instead of the intended 20. 

It helped somewhat. They had to radiate six cancerous "wounds" and/or lumps. Afterwards, I noticed that four are not exactly healing as they should. And I presently have severe soreness in my arm, where some of the largest lumps are. A very bad indication that ......things aren't going well. I also have some other problems that show up on my PETscan. 

I really don't feel like delving into unpleasant things right now.

On my last day of radiation, the oncologist said if I feel like I need further treatments, I should contact them again.

Yesterday I had the head nurse contact them, and an appointment will be schedualed.

As usual, I still have lots more to say, but I'll cut it short for now. It's always an uphill struggle. Always. But I'm willing to climb.....

Jon, exhausted but not ready to surrender. ❤️

Top picture is one of my old AIs. The clouds are parting, perhaps there's a home somewhere on the horizon. 

Somewhere.

P.S.

Many thanks to

Jane from Strawberry Plains

and

Dorothy from NH

💚💚 your thoughtfulness is appreciated.

THE WINDS OF CHANGE

For the past two weeks I have been safely ensconced here at Signature Health Care in Jamestown.

Generally, all has been going well. I have a wonderful room, good care, decent food. Incredibly, dozens of people who work here came to see me and said they're glad I'm back - - it's really overwhelming.

Sheila, the lady who works here, still checks my house and brought my mail.

I have a large, clean room with a large window. The view isn't spectacular but it provides light, which I love.

Best of all, I no longer have a thin curtain seperating me from a dangerous, psychotic roommate - - who physically attacked me when I was in Gainesboro.

Here in this room, I have these cabinets seperating me from my roommate.

Incidentally, my current roommate is a paraplegic. He is pleasant with a good attitude and a sense of humor. Definitely not psychotic. His only visitor is his mother - - and his sister works here, so he sees her often.

Incredibly, all the things I bought when I was here last year are stored in this room. And they dragged in all the things I had in Gainesboro - - my room looks like a museum.

Oh, before I forget - - on Easter Sunday our lunch here consisted of baked ham, sweet potatos, green beans, stuffing with rosemary and thyme....and cherry cheesecake.

But (all good things have a downside)

I've known this for quite awhile but didn't dare mention it. So many of you precious people wrote kind comments on my previous post.

In this sordid life, you can change your environment but you can't change physical ailments.

The cancer on my right arm was healing nicely after radiation, but recently it suddenly enlarged and bleeds slightly. Worst of all, several other lumps appeared on my arm.

I was sent to Cookeville Medical Center last Monday (13th). Unfortunately, my oncologist retired (Dr. Sydris). My new doctor, Dr. Johnson, is East Indian. Nothing wrong with that, but he's not very congenial.

I'll cut to the chase.

I'll need about twenty more radiation treatments (two years ago I had 35 radiation treatments for another cancer). This will take forever. I don't even want to think about it.

I'll finally say my opinion.

Life is a bitch....and I've been kicked in the ass for too long.

I have a lot more things to say, but I'm too weary to continue writing.

Jon ❤️

Grateful for your company

P.S.

My AI pictures are now reruns. My annual account with Freepik closed last February and I don't have the cash to renew it.

I know some of you are applauding. Shame on you!!

TRANSFER POSITIVE

Well, I'm finally here. Signature Health Care in Jamestown.

Yesterday (Good Friday) was one heckuva long day. Everything was chaotic (as usual) and I knew nothing of what was going on (as usual).

I got up very early and was told "they" were picking me up at 9:00 a.m. Who were "they"? They were taking me...where?

I thought I had a doctor appointment. I disgarded the hospital gown and put on clothes. A new shirt. And a pair of sweatpants 20X my size.

I always buy medium sweatpants. These were a probable good fit for Jumbo the elephant.

When I was ready, the social worker Jennifer told me they'd pick me up at noon.

Who?

The transport from Signature in Jamestown.

Silent "Yay!" Couldn't believe my ears.

Problem arises. Being in bed far too long, my knees locked. Couldn't bend them at all. I was like a three week corpse. How the hell could I get in a wheel chair? About half an hour later they brought in another chair. Had a place for my stiff legs. Real cute.

I was wheeled down hallways and brought to a room I've never seen before. There was a huge wide screen TV and they put me smack dab in front of it - - so close that I could see everything without glasses.

Two things wrong with the room.

One

Everyone in the room had dementia. Except for me, of course, but that's a matter of debate. They were shouting, peeing on the floor......and vile things I won't mention.

Two

The TV was tuned to the reruns of Little House on the Prairie.

Let me kindly interject here.

I absolutely love Laura Ingalls Wilder and her books. She's an American icon.

BUT

The TV series has NOTHING to do with her books. The network frogs simply stole her name, raped her image, and made a shit TV series (oops, sorry). She must be revolving in her grave.

OK, let's continue

If you were ever in a room filled with dementia victims and was forced to watch rerun after rerun after rerun of Little House dangerously close up - - you'd be crying and praying fervently for death. That's what I was doing.

My stiff legs were sticking up like I was on an ironing board. I couldn't go anywhere. Hour dragged on upon hour.

Finally, finally a worker came by. I asked for the time, she said it was 1:30. She also said Signature Transport was here! I couldn't believe it!

They transfered me into another chair (where my legs were down) and took me to the lobby.

There was Anthony the Signature driver I knew so well and Martha - - the 80-year-old-something nurse who accompanied me on so many journeys.

I was so relieved!!!

The long trip back to Jamestown was wonderful.

Warm partly cloudy afternoon, green rolling hills, dormant trees coming to life, blossoms everywhere. A perfect Good Friday.

Here at Signature they gave me a very good room, everyone remembers me. I'm treated like a king (so far).

Me - - still have many problems, but breathing a big sigh of relief.

Jon, smiling like Bugs Bunny

💜🐰🐣🐥🐤🐇🐰🐥🐤🐇🐰

When I was very young, my parents used to say "Smile like Bugs Bunny" whenever they took my picture.

GOOD FRIDAY

I'm posting this early, because it might be the only time I have to do it.

I made this video several years ago and have a habit of rehashing it on Good Friday.

Since I am notoriously dissatisfied with everything I do, I would like to drastically edit this video but it's too much trouble.

 My main purpose was to create something with a soothing effect - a sort of respite capturing the essence of Good Friday.

The music from Parsifal by Richard Wagner is absolutely perfect for this.

Whatever.

I'm not certain, but I might have an important update this Easter weekend. I've heard several conflicting rumors, and also things from fairly reliable sources.

Who knows?

Anyway, have a peaceful weekend, immersed in the glorious embrace of spring.

Jon 💜 🐰🐣🐤🐇🐥🐰

(Keep the volume up on the video)

 P.S. 

Yes, an Easter surprise, but I don't know details yet.

FRENCH FRIES AND OTHER THINGS

I'll get to the French Fries later.

I'm still unnerved over the ugly encounter I had with my psychotic roommate last Saturday night. I knew he was crazy, but I never thought he'd get physical - - in an unromantic way.

(I'm trying to be funny.....in case you didn't notice).

Today I reported the incident to my Jamestown Signature Health Care social worker, Tira (not her real name).

She gave me a number to call for help concerning my roommate.

She also said that my transfer is being held up solely because my Gainesboro social worker never sent my papers. Tira's going to contact the administration about this.

I knew the dolts here in Gainesboro would screw this up.

To be continued.

French Fries, anyone?

I was furious at the appalling lunch we were subjected to today.

Three ice cold "chicken" nuggets (it might have been chicken).

An old disgusting dinner roll.

And cold French fries, so rock hard that I couldn't eat them.

I got so disgusted that I jabbed the fries into the dinner roll.

Here's the result:

I told the young lady who took the tray to make the cook eat it. She thought it was funny.

Perhaps I'm getting deranged.

Naw. Not a possibility.

Two books that were delivered here last Thursday, were finally brought to me today.

I have been faithfully reading the Farmer's Almanac since I was about sixteen. In recent years I forgot it. I decided to order it. No longer $2.95. It was over $8.00. I love the fact that the Almanac never changed......except for the price.

I have all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books. And a 500 page book of her letters. She was an extraordinary lady. This book is a compilation of the journals and letters that she wrote when she traveled.

Few people know that she lived in the Missouri Ozarks for 64 years. She and her husband Almanzo built a wonderful house all by themselves. It's now a museum and is kept exactly as it was when she lived there (in Mansfield, MO). I visited there numerous times, when I lived in the Ozarks (with my errant lover.....which is another long story that you wouldn't want to hear).

Okay, you've all seen these, but I took new photos (which didn't turn out very well).

Some of my artifacts from ancient Egypt.  Purchased from an archaeologist and Egyptologist in Canada. These items were excavated near Luxor, Egypt, and the date is approximately 14 AD or 13 AD. From a private collection.

I have two Holly Owl amulets, symbols of wisdom.These are all made of stone with traces of the typical Egyptian faience glaze.

My favorite, the cat Bastet, Goddess of Pleasure

An ancient scarab - - mounted on copper in the 1920s. I put it on a black chain.

I have several more, but I'll spare you.

Why the heck do I purchase these things? I love ancient artifacts. I like to hold them, gaze at them. They give positive vibes.....which is what I need.

Jon, escaped to Cairo🐪🐪🐪

❤️ why do I always use these hearts? 

When I think of you, I feel love ❤️

 

THE INSANITY CONTINUES

 

It's Palm Sunday. I no longer keep track of these things. Long ago I used to love Easter week.

Now, the grim ruthlessness of my endless medical confinement has completely robbed me of every semblance of reality. There are no seasons here, nor any weeks or days. Continuous confinement expunges everything.

Updates?

I'll try to inform you. I honestly know as little about my situation as you do.

It's all an enigma - - - ironically as my enigmatical self.

My right arm is very sore, it's annoying (agony, really) to type. Remember the cancerous "wound" on my arm.....the one that bled and hemorrhaged for months? Radiation treatments stopped the bleeding.

The wound, which was healing nicely, has suddenly enlarged....and is bleeding again, but not much. And a new lump has emerged very near the wound.

I have an appointment with my oncologist in Cookeville on Friday the 3rd.

I'm too exhausted to care.

Remember Ronald, my new deranged one legged roommate? He got worse last night.

Our beds are two damn close. The curtains that "seperate" us seem to annoy him. He keeps opening them (I can't reach them).

A photo of his bed from my bed

He is able to sit on the edge of his bed and open the curtains. Annoying, of course, but I simply got used to it. I ignored him.

Late last night (Saturday) he started to freak out. He started to call me Bill.

"Bill! Bill, you gotta wake up! They're coming for us!"

I informed him I'm not Bill. I tried to sleep.

SUDDENLY

(I used capitals to maintain your interest)

he was at the side of my bed, grabbing my arm, demanding he wanted his radio!

Holy Shee-it! How did this one legged psycho get to my bed???

He kept saying he wants his radio, and I had it for sixteen minutes!

(I swear to God, that's what he said).

He tried to take my cell phone, but I pried it from him.

Then, he grabbed the control box for my bed, thinking it was his radio. And he got my call button!

This isn't a good pic, but that's the remote box to control my bed. The long white thing is my call button.

I had to struggle with him to get the remote box and the call button.

He was on the floor. I tried to calm him down. I asked if he was hurt. I told him I'd get someone to help him.

I pressed the call button multiple times.....knowing damn well that I was getting help for myself.

Two very hefty female workers came quickly. The biggest, toughest one grabbed Ronald and literally slammed him into his bed!

I felt the "ouch".

This is getting too long.

They moved my bed out of reach from Ronald (like they did on the first night when he harrassed me).

Now I'm inches from the window, blocking the cabinets, and I can't reach my duffle bag - - which contains EVERYTHING I need.

More photos to enthrall you and make this blog post even more intriguing than my fantastic writing.

 

I'm inches from the window

I'm a few feet away from Ronald

I'm blocking the cabinets, and my duffle bag is under that pillow

Is this a happy ending? Hell, no!! I don't feel safe at all. Who knows what kind of mental problems Ronald had before he came here. Is he dangerous? Holy crap, Heaven knows I don't need any more problems.

I had planned to write about other subjects.

What about my transfer to Jamestown???

I haven't heard anything....but I'm going to inform my Signature Health Care social worker about this incident. I want it to be on record.

Thanks for reading this. I love all of you. ❤️

Jon, courageously battling deranged roommates

Just for the record, this is where I am - - I disliked this place from the very beginning.

Waters Rehab and Nursing Home

1340 N. Grundy Quarles Hwy

Gainesboro, TN 38562

Rm 04-B

SPOOKY NIGHT, GENUINE FEAR

 I had written a new blog post yesterday. After the very unnerving incidents that happened to me last night, I deleted that new post. I feel compelled to tell you about what is happening to me lately here in Gainesboro at Waters Rehab.

I now fear for my safety, and I'm not jesting.

I came to Gainesboro in December. Since then, I've had four different roommates.

Roommate #1

Sammy, a former drug addict and ex con. I didn't care about the poor guy's past. The problem was, he had very erratic behavior. Yelling,  cursing, throwing tantrums. He constantly peed in his bed. The urine would flood the floor and eventually flowed under my bed. Not exactly pleasant.

I never complained about Sammy, but he was  (mercifully) transferred to another room.

Roommate #2

Leo, who had dementia. His wife was the woman who talked incessantly. When I got to know her, I really  liked her. She was a good woman. Unfortunately, Leo passed away.

Roommate #3

Glen, a polite and quiet man - - but he had a major memory problem. He kept coming over to my side of the room, looking in all the closets for the restroom. I told him the toilet was on the other side of the room. And I pleaded for him to be very careful, since he had a habit of falling. I kept my "call" button handy, in case he needed  help.

One night I awoke from a sound sleep. I was startled to see an old man, clad in white, standing at the side of my bed. I initially thought it was a ghost. It was Glen, looking for the restroom! This happened numerous times.

Glen was moved to another room. He's a nice guy....but weird.

Wait, my good people. You ain't heard nothin' yet!

Roommate #4

I don't know his name, but the man is completely insane - - crazier than a bed bug.

It would take an extremely loooong blog post to tell all the bizarre things he does. It started with minor (??) things - - like throwing food trays, pooping in his bed, shouting and calling for unknown people.

Then...........

his insanity was focused on me!

As you probably know, I always wait until late at night to do things I need to do - - - like shave, wash my hair, eat my stash of Walmart food, brush my teeth, etc.

Last night, a spooky atmosphere prevailed. Severe storms, lots of thunder, lightning, and torrential rain.

Soooo...

While I was eating my Walmart food, my demented roommate ripped open the dividing curtains between us. He sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at me while I ate.

I was extremely uncomfortable, he had a diabolical look on his face.  I completely ignored him.

After I ate, I tried to shave. He kept gawking at me....and suddenly started throwing things at me! Tissues, plastic cups, a fork.....

this really upset me, but I kept ignoring the cretin. He suddenly closed the curtains between us.

I tried to resume my tasks when

I felt something tugging the blankets on my bed. I looked down and saw his long bare arm, sticking out from the curtains, pulling the blankets off my bed! I couldn't believe it! And how the hell could he reach that far??

I yelled!

While I was yelling, the bastard somehow grabbed my urinal, which was hanging on the side of my bed.

I was absolutely stunned.

He squished the urinal (it's made of plastic) and threw it on the floor!!! Thank God it was empty.

These insane antics terrified me. I pressed the emergency call button...praying he didn't have a knife.

Nurses and workers came into the room. They offered to move my bed to a different room, but I refused. Why the hell should I surrender?

They moved my bed as far from the "roommate" as possible. He wouldn't be able to reach me because he only has one leg and can't stand up.

One of the workers here had pre-warned me that my new roommate was a one-legged monster, but I took it lightly.

I was hesitant to sleep last night for fear he might kill me - - single legged or not.

Now, this morning (Monday) he threw a tantrum and started smashing everything in his reach.

I don't know where they took him, but he's presently out of this room.

I'm exhausted and tired of writing. More later....if I survive.

Jon, 

baffled, flustered, confounded, unnerved, enraged.....(hell, you can fill in the blanks)

I didn't edit this post and I don't care.

THE TWO THAT GOT AWAY

   Note  I wrote this post several years ago. Every now and then I repost it. Why? Because I like it.  Jon

MAE WEST

MARIA RASPUTIN

I've met a lot of famous people when I lived in California and I've written about some of my encounters on previous blog posts - - John Wayne, Sonny and Cher, Groucho Marx, Ronald Reagan, Ann Miller, Liza Minnelli, Joan Rivers, Shelley Winters, Raquel Welch......and that's only a few. 
I haven't even mentioned the porn stars (no, I'm not kidding).

The great thing about Hollywood (at least when I lived there) was that it was fairly easy to cross paths with famous people. And I knew many extremely colorful characters who knew famous people. The connections were everywhere. At the time, it was exciting and I loved it. 

Despite all the celebrities I met, I still think the most about the two that got away. Two people whom I desperately wanted to meet but never did. Incredibly, they were both listed in the L.A. phone book:
Actress Mae West and Maria Rasputin - daughter of Grigory Rasputin, the infamous Russian monk who knew Tsar Nicholas II.

 I still have the old L.A. phone book

Maria Rasputin was a colorful character in her own right - a former governess, cabaret dancer, and long-time circus lion tamer.
She soothed the wild beasts with her mesmeric eyes.

She was indeed listed in the phone book (trust me, there aren't many Rasputins in the white pages....). She lived in obscurity in a modest place on Larissa near the Hollywood Freeway. 
I staked out her residence numerous times hoping to get a glimpse of her, but I never did. She was already in her late 70s then and died a short time later.

Since she was listed in the phone book, I regret not calling her. I was a heckuva lot more brash in my youth than I am now. But - - let's be rational here - - I didn't know what to say.
What's a good opening line when you want to talk to Rasputin's daughter?
"Hey, I was a big fan of your father".....??
  

Maria Rasputin

Mae West. Film star legend. Hollywood icon. I was an immensely huge Mae West fan back then and really wanted to meet her, but she was already in her 80s and led a reclusive life.

Ironically, one of my close friends and fellow musician Anthony had met her (I wrote about Anthony in a previous blog post - his sister Clara wanted to marry me).

Anthony's encounter with Mae West happened long ago when he was about twelve years old. His mother was doing some sort of Hollywood charity work and Mae West was involved. They were both invited to West's apartment. Anthony, at that time, had never heard of  Mae West and wasn't particularly interested. He remembered that the apartment living room was decorated entirely in white and he said Mae West was very alluring.

Ravenswood Apartments on Rossmore
Long-time residence of Mae West

Mae West had lived in the same Hollywood apartment building for over forty-five years - - in fact, she had a lifetime lease. It was called Ravenswood and is located on north Rossmore, only a few blocks from Paramount Studios on Melrose (where she worked during her heyday). Incidentally, West's apartment number was 611.

I initially thought that Mae West owned Ravenswood, but she didn't. Ravenswood was built by Paramount Studios in 1930 and had once housed such famous residents as Clark Gable and Ava Gardner.

One day I was driving and my car broke down directly in front of Ravenswood. It hadn't dawned on me where I was until I looked up and saw the big Ravenswood sign on the roof.

Holy crap! Mae West lives here! I was astonished and delighted that fate had unceremoniously dumped me right in front of her abode.

There's no satisfactory resolution to this story because I never did meet Mae West. I did my best to get a glimpse of her but to no avail.

In retrospect this sounds crazy, but on several later occasions (usually at night) I would sit on a wall across the street and gaze at Mae West's windows.

West had been listed in the L.A. phone book for many years. When she was younger she actually answered the phone and talked to her fans (imagine any star doing that nowadays!).

Despite my reluctance to call Maria Rasputin, I did call Mae West's number several times. I talked to her long-time companion Paul Novak, who was a former body builder and had been one of several muscle-bound pretty boys featured in West's Las Vegas show.

Novak was thirty years younger than West. It was rumored that they had been lovers, but I have my doubts (for some private reasons that I won't disclose here). Paul was kind and easy to talk to. He told me that Mae was very deaf and no longer spoke on the phone (I already assumed that, because I'd heard of all the trouble she had with her hearing while she was making the movie Myra Breckinridge).

Like a sappy jackass, I wrote a humorous poem and fan letter and sent it to West. Paul said that he'd make sure she got it. She did. Within a few days I received a letter and signed photo from Mae. I still have it.  

The lines on the photo are a reflection from the window.

Mae West, in later years, with Paul Novak (Paul is on the left) and Mickey Hargitay (he later was Jayne Mansfield's husband)

P.S.

Unfortunately, the once-elegant Ravenswood has now fallen into decay and is largely forgotten.

Hollywood is NOTHING like it used to be.     Jon