3. Echo of the Supernova
Bring it on
I surprise myself with my directness. It’s even more surprising when you consider that Robert, except for what I’ve read about him in stories, is a complete stranger to me.
“Wow,” he says, his face softening into an infectious smile. “You want me to be truthful?”
I don’t say anything, but just smile. It is the oldest, and the most successful interview trick in the book; keep quiet and the source will eventually talk. As a reporter you don’t have to say a word. Do nothing but sit there and wait. The subject becomes so uncomfortable they fill the quiet with something – anything – and most of the time it’s not what they wanted to say, but it’s the answers which you were looking for.
“December.” The word comes out short and clipped.
“What did you use?”
“Coke.”
On cue, and I don’t know if he does this unconsciously or as a joke, he makes a short snorting sound with his nose and then raises a hand to wipe at his nostrils.
“When was the last time you’ve had a drink?”
“I still drink.”
“Scotch?”
Robert has expressed his love for scotch in more than a handful of the hundreds of interviews I’ve read. Like some scotch drinkers, he prefers his with water. In his case, “just a drip.” As he explained to one reporter, “A drip is even less than a splash.”
He nods his head and smiles. He quickly realizes that I’ve done my homework. He then admits to also drinking beer.
“Why? Why do you still do it?” I feel myself starting to get angry. Angry at a man with limitless artistic possibilities, or at least it seemed a decade ago, yet who continuously poisons himself, leading himself toward a road of destruction and the possibility of death.
“It gets boring sitting around at home alone all day,” he says. He laughs. It is a raucous sound, one that echoes from the tobacco-layered depths inside his chest. He coughs up the sound into his mouth and has to excuse himself from the table. He walks over to a brown garbage receptacle that is also equipped with a top that serves as an ashtray. He leans over the garbage’s opening and lets a long, yellow string of phlegm slowly drop out of his mouth.
“Sorry about that,” he says, as he returns to the table.
“I’m sorry if you feel I’m being a little too forward,” I say. “It’s just that I’ve had all these questions for years now and I finally get the chance to ask them.”
“You’re fine,” he says, “go ahead.” He waves his hand at me, like a boxer motioning his opponent to “bring it on,” a sign to show me he takes no offense. “I don’t have anything to hide. I’m an open book.”
“Okay then, tell me about your wife.”
“Which one?” He smiles.
“What are you a polygamist?”
“Po-lyg-a-mist.” He carefully mouths each syllable, wisps of cigarette smoke exiting with each sound. “No, I’m not a polygamist. It’s just that I’ve had two wives. Wife One and Wife Two.”
“I guess I’m asking you about Wife Two then.”
“Her name’s Victoria. She was stripping when I met her,” he says, looking up theatrically. “She mentioned she wanted implants. I told her if she wanted implants she’d have to marry me first. I was obviously using at this time. She got her implants within a week. Within the first month she was already pregnant and six months later we were married.”
I am dumbstruck by his honest and blunt assessment of his courtship. I have interviewed a fair share of national politicians and key business leaders who will constantly poke around the truth or totally avoid it. However, it is the Artist, with a capital A, that is the seeker of Truth, and sometimes to the complete dismay of the politicians and businessmen, the speaker of these Truths
“What?” he asks, reading the look of shock and awe on my face. “What is it?”
“I’m just not used to this…such honesty,” I say. “Especially from a man.”
“Well, when we spoke on the phone you were the one who mentioned a no-holds-barred look in to the life of Robert Grady,” he says, stubbing out the butt of his finished cigarette.
“I know,” I say, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says, lighting up yet another cigarette.
He motions with both of his hands toward me, again. Just bring it.
To read the previous installments from Echo of the Supernova:
A school drop-off and cup of coffee
https://thebrianlennonshow.substack.com/p/2-echo-of-the-supernova
Echo of the Supernova
https://thebrianlennonshow.substack.com/p/echo-of-the-supernova-the-singularity