What a Way to Go Out

Chapter 1 – Fear and loathing in WeHo.

I don’t know why I do this anymore, but something in me is compelled to stay alive. Call it survival instinct, or maybe even a touch of narcissism, but my mind won’t let me fade away. So I seek forms of escapism: alcohol, sex, and digressing in a shitty WeHo bar, one of the few I’m certain is safe from familiar eyes. If I can’t be destroyed, I might as well drown away any true sense of self. Right now, my vices, vici, vicises….whatever, are to guzzle fermented beverages and act out the major ups and downs of a life now so starved for meaningful human interaction, that it reaches out to its very self through monologue. I’m all that I’ve got, and like most people, the older that I get, the more that I am confronted by my own mortality.

I look around me now and realize that I have no legacy, but by the looks of my inebriated comrades, I’m in good company. Nope, I have left no positive, lasting mark on the earth. Yes, there are those very few who would miss me for a short while, but they would inevitably move on like healthy minded adults should. My death wouldn’t be that much different from my current life, existence rather. And it’s for this reason, a hundred years from now, no one will know that I existed except for a government consensus, on a computer database, in a cold government storage facility; I’ll be just another nameless number to reference voting habits, tax margins, and population records. Well, that and a cautionary tale in the annals of lesbian history.

Don’t misunderstand me. I wasn’t dealt a bad hand. I did this to myself. You see, I am Bette Porter; art mogul, gallery owner, Yale graduate in the top 2% of her class, and high-life mover and shaker of the City of Angels. I own the art world. I am the art world. Anyone who’s someone or wants to become someone comes through me. Talent or not, if you have the will and desire to give me your soul, you will know fame and fortune. I could sell a soiled napkin for tens of thousands of dollars. All you have to do is sign the dotted line and you’ll receive your fair share. I used be known for my impeccable taste and far exceeding standards, but now, now if it’s money, it’ll do.