An Indian'A'ngeles Boyhood with Jesse Bob Harper

On this episode I speak, once again, with Daisy (Mama) about Phil (stepdad), Vic Dunlop (comedy legend), and my decision to move to L.A. #podcasting #podcasts #storytelling #storyteller

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I may never have had my big break, or maybe I did have it and failed to recognize it, while living in L.A., but I did have some great experiences, which I hope, lead to some great stories.

This is a short little story about the comic and actor Richard Lewis. I wasn't his friend, or colleague, or peer, but I knew him just well enough to know that he was a class act.

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Spent a few minutes rapping with the hip chick Daisy, "Mama," about her adventures in motherhood. It seems my dislike of school and love of nicotine runs in the family, don't blame me!

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Somethings I didn't need to move to L.A. to learn... but I did anyway.

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I called him Maybe. I guess you could consider him a service dog. He led me to a better life.

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Jealousy, envy, resentment, hypocrisy... It must be Oscar season.

Welcome to the First Episode of Season 2 of "IndianAngeles Boyhood." This week I am once again joined by friend, former co-worker, and talent agent, Mr. Michael Goldberg.

Why Season 2? I don't know. Have no idea. Just felt right.

Mike and I met while working in the mailroom of Saban Entertainment in the mid nineties. Saban Entertainment, if you don't know (and hopefully you don't) is responsible for that mid-nineties horror show, "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers." And for whatever small, tiny, insignificant part I may have played in that shows success, I am truly sorry.

In this episode we talk about Mike's apartment, which he's had for 25 years, his job as an agent, and some of the times we spent together.

One of the phrases I most dislike is, "you know me." I dislike it because so often I have no idea about the person saying it, hell sometimes I don't even know their name. I think people throw this phrase around because so many of us desperately want to feel "known," to feel as if we are heard and seen. That's why it is so nice when someone says it to you, and you actually are in agreement with him or her, "yes. I do know you."

I do know Michael and have known Michael for about 25 years. It's nice to have those long friendships to get to know someone. Although those friendships are rare anywhere, they especially rare in Los Angeles. So I am grateful that I can still see Michael and relate, and tell stories, and "be known."

There wasn't a whole lot to do as a teenager in the 80's in Indiana except drive around and get in trouble... So that's exactly what we did.

I am grateful for the hours, days and months of boredom, because I believe it led to a childhood of creativity. Whether we were creating characters in our own one act plays, or making homemade explosives, we always found something to hold our interest.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things... Like smoking.

One of the constants in my life, going back almost as far as I can remember, were cigarettes. I smoked, alot. I was very good at it too.

In this episode I try something different and attempt just a little riff on a favorite subject. No guests. No script.

"Melancholy can have causes that aren't due to underlying disease. Examples include seeing a sad movie, loss of a loved one or object, or a good thing coming to an end."

Even though the life I have now is so much better than the life I had imagined, I never could have imagined a life as good as the one I now live, but still, the moment when you realize, for whatever reason, that the imagined life will not materialize, that moment can sometimes leave a hole.

When I left Los Angeles, I left because I thought, I felt, I knew it was no longer a "good thing." I wasn't doing what I had left Indiana to do some twenty two years prior. I wasn't in a place in my life which I had long imagined I would be. Imagined right down to the wardrobe and locations.

But it wasn't just my time in L.A. that was "coming to an end." It was time itself. My twenties and thirties... My youth. I don't know if I would call my twenties and thirties a "good thing," but we sure had some fun. The times in which I loved L.A., and there were many, I really loved it man. Really.

Now when I return to her, the city, I am often filled with a sense of melancholy. Why? I don't know exactly. Maybe it's because all of those places we had spent so much time are gone. Maybe it's because it reminds me of life I once had. But really, I think, it is because it reminds me of a life I had imagined. Whether good or bad. The imagined life is the hardest memory to move on from.