Evan C. Phillips
My Dearest Laura,
I am writing you not out of want or desire (though those are certainly motivating forces), I am writing you out of sheer necessity. For I have something to get off my chest. An albatross around my neck. A cross I bear that you gave to me and I think you oughta know about it. Much like you were suppressed from Hollywood for a year after Ellen came out to you, I too have been suppressed for a year. Emotionally suppressed. And now it’s my time to come out.
I love you Laura Dern.
Never have I come before someone with my heart so delicately balanced in my hands. Never have I said words more truthful and honest. Never have I really been seen before. And goddamn does it feel good! So, I will tell you again.
I love you Laura Dern.
Though it would be easy to paint my affection for you as a “love at first sight” narrative, that would be dishonest. I only want to be honest with you from now on Laura, for I have seen the ill effects mendacity can have on a man in heat, so I will abandon any shred of pretense. You deserve that Laura.
I first laid eyes on you while watching a rerun of Jurassic Park III on cable. Having never seen the first film in the franchise, your cameo made little sense to me. Back then, I was driven by logic and not raw emotion. I needed the world to be rational. Had I been in touch with my heart in those days, perhaps my path to you would have been much shorter. But you and I, standing at 5′10″ and 6'3" respectively, are no strangers to length, are we?
I would eventually see the first Jurassic Park (where you were snubbed for top billing by the highly overrated Sam Neill), but I was just a meek and demure boy. I was attracted to the dinosaurs, not the women. In my naiveté, I could handle a cold-blooded raptor, but not a warm-blooded Woman. And you are a warm-blooded Woman through and through.
Years passed. I grew older. I loved. I lost. I lost some more. I continued to lose. Come to think of it, I almost exclusively lost. But even in those rare times where I won (and believe me Laura, they were rare), I was never satisfied. I never found meaning. I never found connection.
But that all started to change in 2017.
I thought my inner garden was fallow. But as I sat in a Kansas City Cinema watching the universally beloved Star Wars: The Last Jedi, subconscious seeds were sewn in my emotional lawn. I didn’t know it then, but Vice Admiral Holdo’s arc was not meant to be taken literally, it was strictly metaphoric. Holdo wasn’t flying a suicide run through the First Order’s fleet; you, Laura Dern, were attempting to lightspeed penetrate my callused heart. Forgive me for not letting you in.
In 2019, those subconscious seeds blossomed into a budding infatuation when you pushed your daughter to the ground so you could dance to the best song of that year, Say So. Yet again, you were sending me a coded message. For Doja Cat’s lyrics speak of a boy who is too shy to make a move, too shy to actualize his dreams. You’re a clever girl Laura, and you wanted me to scream and shout it. Still, I remained silent.
Then came Little Women. There you were again, lighting up the screen the way only an actress of your caliber can. The women may have been little, but my newfound crush on you was anything but.
Then there was the film that broke the dam, Marriage Story. I had never seen you in a dress like that (pink moiré). I had never even been impressed like that. Somehow, you were more mesmerizing in that movie than Wallace Shawn. Not an easy feat. After finishing that film, I was no longer content to be quite on the set like zip. So now, I will scream it. I will shout out. I will exhaust me lungs crying out this heavenly proclamation.
I love you Laura Dern!
Sure, you are 32 years older than me.
Sure, you have 2 children.
Sure, you have lived of a life more than I ever will.
Sure, your father, Hollywood legend Bruce Dern, intimidates me and would never give a simpering coward like me his blessing.
Sure, I have done nothing that makes me deserve your affection, or any women’s affection for that matter.
But a man has to have a dream.
A man has to have something to aspire to, something to chase, something to keep in his mind during the lonely nights.
After all, when a man is stripped of his spirit by the trials and tribulations of his solitary existence,
What is a man but his dreams?
Wild at Heart,
Evan C. Phillips
P.S. Until my love is requited in some way, I will not watch Big Little Lies. I want to Laura. I want to so bad. But I’m afraid it will kill me. Don’t kill me Laura.
*Ring! Ring!*
Stephen King: Hello, who is this?
Peter Straub: Hey Steve, it’s Peter Straub.
King: Pete! It’s been too long. To what do I owe the pleasure?
Straub: Well Steve I was lying in bed last night when it hit me. What if we did a sequel to The Talisman? Jack could be all grown up as a retired L.A. detective who gets involved in a small town cat and mouse thriller with a supernatural serial killer. It could be called Black House.
King: Sounds great Pete! We sure made a lot of money when we collaborated on the original book.
Straub: Yeah, and I thought we had a good time working together, it’s all about the craft right?
King: (long pause) Whatever you say Pete. Listen, I’m in the middle of a lot of other projects right now, so if you want to go ahead and take point on this one be my guest.
One Week Later
*Ring! Ring!*
Straub: Hey Steve, just finished the first hundred pages and sent them to you.
Steve: Okay I’ll take a look when I get the chance.
Straub: So what’s going on with you? How’s Tabitha?
(Long silence)
Straub: Steve are you still there? Hmm, the connection must have been dropped.
One Week Later
*Ring! Ring!*
King: Hey Pete! Did you get my rewrites on your first hundred pages?
Straub: Yeah, they’re pretty good...um I noticed you put some Dark Tower references in there.
King: Yeah, Black House is a Dark Tower Book now.
Straub: Oh, Black House is connected to the Dark Tower now?
King: No, Black House IS the Dark Tower now.
Straub: Excuse me?
King: Concepts, character, and locations from both The Talisman and Black House will be imported wholesale into the Towerverse. Not to mention the ending of Black House will have major ramifications for the series moving forward.
Straub: Okay...well you own the Dark Tower?
King: Uh-huh
Straub: So...I won’t be making any money of the ideas you take from me?
King: I thought it was all about the craft, Pete.
Straub: Yeah...it’s just. I put a lot of time, energy, and love into this, and I’d like a return on my investment.
King: There’ll be water if God wills it.
Straub: You can’t just deflect with your stupid mid-world phrases Steve.
King: All things serve the beam.
Straub: (sighs) So what’s this big ending you’ve got planned Steve. I can start writing it tonight.
King: Oh no can do Pete. You’re done.
Straub: What do you mean?
King: I’m taking over Black House from here. But don’t worry I’ll put some of your bullshit in.
Straub: My bullshit?
King: Did I say bullshit. Slip of the tongue. I’ll put some of your literary voice in.
Straub: You know what. Fuck you Stephen, I’m have had up to here with your crap! You’ll be hearing from my lawyer... Tommyknockers sucks ass!
Straub hangs up the phone.
King: No great loss.
Even A Broken Clock is Right Twice A Day
What a stupid fucking saying
Sure it nobly attempts to find functionality in dysfunction
But it assumes so much about the clock in question
Namely how it’s Broken
If the hour hand has fallen off
Is the clock still right then?
If the clock has been smashed to bits after falling from the sidetable
Can the clock be right then?
If a digital clock had short circuited
How about then?
A different version of the saying is closer to the truth
Even a Stopped Clock is Right Twice a Day
But this still doesn’t account for all possibilities
What if the stopped clock is in the bed of a pickup truck
That is driving coast to coast
From timezone to timezone
Perfectly unsynchronized to prevent the stopped clock from being right
What then?
Still, I can’t fully hate the saying
Life would be miserable if I truly believed that
The most fundamentally broken of us
Could never get a single thing right
Let Alone Two