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Theo Van Gogh, Golden Age of Hollywood, and ex Playboy Bunny Susan Aldous

The dying embers of sunset kiss the clouds; I stride by On Nut Square in my bespoke finery. The dark silk suit, black shirt and silver iridescent tie Sensory overload at Siam Squaremake me feel like George Raft in a noir movie. A Toyota pickup truck is prominently parked in a convenient soi. A Buddhist monk in saffron robe is blessing passersby with holy water from the bed of the truck. Behind the monk a statue of Buddha in meditation graces the eye. The monk flicks water at me, it is not unlike my Catholic culture and I feel blessed as the eyes of the monk twinkle. There is one truth, but there are many paths

I take the sky train to Chitlom, disgorge from the mass of humanity, enter the building that houses the Foreign Correspondents Club, and take the lift to the penthouse. The bar is rife with good buzz. An artistic looking bloke, the screenwriter Martin Zweiback, just back from the screenwriter wars in Hollywood joins me at the bar. Martin invites me to join his lady Virginia at a table up front. She is a striking woman with red hair and blue eyes.

Martin waxes eloquent re the Golden Age of Hollywood. A born raconteur, he explains his involvement in the nascent avant garde film movement personified by the works of John Cassavetes, Kenneth Anger, Bruce Conner, Ron Rice and Taylor Meade.

A classic An thony Quinn story is woven into the tapestry. Quinn is on location with director David Lean, he is playing Sheik Abou Ben Ali in Dr. Zhivago. Possessed of extraordinary animal magnetism and virile charisma, Quinn strides across the sands in full Bedouin garb, ready to shoot the next scene. A crowd of Arab blokes gather around him to marvel at this lion among men. Soon an army of Arabians in djellabas are following him The image “http://ia.imdb.com/media/imdb/01/I/31/07/89m.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.chanting ABOU BEN ALI. David Lean witnesses this memorable tableaux and inquires of his assistant director who the army is following. He is told it is none other than SHEIK ABOU BEN ALI. Lean orders the assistant director to hire the sheik and fire Quinn.

http://www.thai-blogs.com/images/richard/angel_01.jpgThe author, former Playboy bunny and activist Susan Dusty ALDOUS joins us. Dusty delivers a birthday cake to celebrate, as my mum would say, Virginias 19th birthday.

Susan Dusty Aldous blows out the lone candle as everyone sings happy birthday. Martin and Virginia exchange fond kisses. Dusty is in her pomp.

The author of Angel of Bang Kwang Prison, a true story of her social activism among the men imprisoned in the notorious Bangkok Hilton, is in good nick.

Martin spins tales of Robert Matchup [sic, Robert Mitchum?], whom he claims was very cerebral, despite the scallywag rogue image he cultivated. He tells of Ava Gardner, who could out drink, outfight and outlive any man. And he reveals inimate insights in to Cary Grant, the gentleman’s gentleman, who learned his craft at the bosoms of the immortal Mae West.

I mention CHILDREN OF GLORY, the brilliant film re the Hungarian revolution

produced by his old pal Andy Vajna, Martin explains Andy and his old chum Mario Kassar produced THE DOORS. directed by Oliver Stone and Val Kilmer in his finest hour channeling Jim Morrison. I trot out my Jim Morrison story I told to Andy at his press conference for CHILDREN OF GLORY at the 2007 Bangkok Intl Film Festival.

As the statute of limitations has long since expired, the true story can be told. I was introduced to Jim by the Beat poet Michael McClure at his house on Downey Street in
Haight Ashbury. Michael was literary mentor to Jim, assisting him in the publication of a book of poetry titled THE NEW LORDS. Only 200 were printed. http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/11390000/11392461.jpg Our paths crossed again when Michael brought Jim to a performance of PARADISE NOW, at the Straight Theatre. THE LIVING THEATRE, under the aegis of Julian Beck and Judith Malina were the most radical political theatre of the day. This was as underground as it got mes cher amis. Voila mes chiens Andalou, check it out my Andalusian dogs, this was Surrealism meets Beat meets Hippie culture in full flower with a bit of NO EXIT by John Paul Sartre thrown in. THE LIVING THEATRE was on song to challenge and change society baby, we are not talking MARY POPPINS here.

My old girl friend Theresa and I once worked a love act at the old Roaring Twenties in North Beach. We did a soft core faux love dance three times a night. After work one night, as we strolled past the Galaxy a-go-go, we spotted Jim sitting at the bar of THE PEPPERMINT next door. Jim waved us in and spotted us to a few drinks. I dropped the bomb. I had several capsules of needle point mescaline in my pocket.

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We all popped and dropped. It was a most memorable Jimi Hendrix Experience. As I am old school and observe the literary law of omerta re the sexual and substance abuse pecaddiloes among practitioners of high culture my lips are sealed. Thats all you coppers are getting out of me, see copper, I ain’t talkin, I know my rights, you get nothin’ out of me see. Talk to my mouthpiece.

http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/TV2/archive/00168/theo_van_gogh_168116g.jpg The Theo Van Gogh film is rolling. Van Gogh (pictured left) is a direct descendant of Vincent Van Gogh’s brother Theo. A cat and mouse story re a journalist and a B movie actress in Amsterdam, it rolls on replete with Dutch humor and scatology. The ending was the bomb. The lights go up. We exchange pleasantries and calling cards.

There are 8 million stories in the naked city of Bangkok. This was just one of them.

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