Showing posts with label leaving las vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leaving las vegas. Show all posts

Thursday, January 01, 2015

Less for 2015



VPRO's Shot on Location: Leaving Las Vegas
from FrithMedia on Vimeo
.

The Dutch media outfit VPRO contacted me in summer of 2012 about filming that 30-minute documentary on Leaving Las Vegas. I flew to Las Vegas in December to do the interview and the film came out in 2013. I didn't see it until VPRO sent me a DVD later in the year.

When it became available online, I didn't share it. In fact, I didn't talk at all about appearing on "Shot on Location" to anyone other than Eric and a few other people. This was all I posted about the trip here along with a few photo updates on Facebook and Twitter. As the readership knows, it sometimes takes me a long time to process things associated with my brother John. I'm sharing this now because I'm ready.

There is another reason.

I was none too happy with the way I looked in the film, but I've finally done something about it. I dropped about 25 pounds in 2014. In a day or two, I'll post specific tips on how I did it.

Welcome Erin 2.015

Photo by Bob Perkoski
Fresh Water managing photographer Bob Perkoski took this photo a few weeks ago at the Hofbräuhaus Cleveland. That's Fresh Water publisher Fran DiDonato, left, and managing editor Lee Chilcote, right. 

So there I am, John, a work in progress on many fronts. Know that I'm trying. I'm trying as hard as I can and I miss you with all of my heart.

Onward--

*  *  *

Monday, October 27, 2014

Leaving Las Vegas: the aftermath


John and me, 1986

On Wednesday, November 5 from 7:30 to 9 p.m., I'll be giving a very personal talk about how the tragedy of my brother John’s 1994 suicide and the nuanced aftermath led me to the keyboard.

Folks, these are the quiet, tender stories.

This event is free and open to the public. 

Location: Cleveland Psychoanalytic Center, Heights Medical Building, 2460 Fairmount Blvd. Suite 312. Parking is free behind the building.

Please make a reservation:  216-229-5959  or emial dmorsecpc  [at] sbcglobal.net

More information here.

*  *  *

Thursday, December 06, 2012

Lady luck?




Like Ben in that scene, I'm off to Las Vegas. Unlike Ben, I'm going on business and when I (ahem) leave Las Vegas, it should be under far better circumstances than his tragic exit.

At about the 2:11 mark in today's clip, you'll see a cameo of Director Mike Figgis. He's got the curly slicked back hair. This movie may be serious and sad, but after having met Figgis, you cannot know how that particular appearance cracks me up. He also shows up on cab signs throughout the movie--wearing heart shaped glasses.

 Hold the fort down for me, boppers.

*  *  *

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

John O'Brien and Vegas Mavens

Bill, Erin and John O'Brien, 1970

 Vegas Mavens has posted an essay about my brother John and his novel Leaving Las Vegas.

During our interview, Mavens writer Josh and I discussed one of my favorite passages from the book that appears on page five. This burst of poetry and geometry absolutely dazzles me:

His point was made, and he moved along, in keeping with the tangential nature that must consume at least one of them. There is a bottle in his future--perhaps sooner a glass--elsewhere on the line. Sera is a circle, twenty-nine years around.

There is a woman (a circle) and a man (a straight line). The metaphor is perfect in it's every permutation: in the primal symbols of female and male, and in the visual moment when Ben and Sera first glance off each other. Their tangential one-point contact is also an accurate representative of their relationship as a whole. His line does not bisect the circle or thread through it's middle just as Ben does not penetrate Sera.

After their brief and chaste affair, Sera will continue to roll around her diameter and Ben's line will plod on. That line is resolute in its path and the liquor that marks it. Whether it comes to an end or continues along towards a spiritual vanishing point depends on the reader and how he spends his Sunday mornings. Sera's age, 29, is a prime number, divisible only by itself and the number one (how much do I love that?).

Hence on page five, John has effectively diagrammed his entire novel in 50 easy words.

All I can do is sigh. All I can do is shake my head. All I can do is put my fingers on the goddamn keyboard.

Goddamn.

Josh and I talked and talked and talked, but we didn't get to all of it. There are parts of the film that I like very much, such as the sad melodic opening:



Insider note: At 3:06, Stuart Regen walks through the set in a cameo appearance. It is perhaps subtler than those of Richard Lewis and Steven Weber, but far more significant. Long before Ben and Sera glittered on the silver screen, Regen plucked a copy of Leaving Las Vegas from a bargain book bin because he liked the cover. He purchased the book for one dollar and subsequently fell impossibly in love with the story. He optioned the rights for $2,000.

Without Stuart Regen, Leaving Las Vegas would never have been made into a film. He succumbed to non-Hodgkin's lymphoma in August, 1998.

*  *  *

Thanks again to Josh for an evocative and fresh viewpoint on the Leaving Las Vegas story and John.

*  *  *

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Book soup?

This Thursday, I'll be in Los Angeles for an evening in celebration of my brother John and his work, and to launch his last posthumously published novel "Better." The event will be at 7 p.m. at Book Soup on Sunset Boulevard and will also feature Jerry Stahl and Joseph Mattson.

"Better" is a book of many dimensions. The most compelling of which for me is the metaphorical aspect by which John explores his genetic predisposition to his addiction. I have written an essay detailing what's percolating between the lines of "Better" for the Los Angeles Times, which is slated to run on July 19, 2009. If anyone out there can obtain a hard copy of the article for me, I would very much appreciate it. Here's my address:

Erin O'Brien
P. O. Box 470167
Broadview Hts., OH 44147

In the meantime, for those looking for more on John, I offer some of my in-depth writing on my brother and his work and an associated blog entry with additional pictures and links.

Now here's pix of John and me at Universal Studios in June, 1986 taken by John's then-wife Lisa. We all laughed so hard on that trip. It feels like a lifetime ago. I suppose it was.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

La Dolce Vita

Leaving Las Vegas was just republished in Italy by minimum fax. It had been out of print there for some years. For any of my Italian friends who have not read the book, it is a very fine novel indeed.

Some months back, the publisher contracted me to write an epilogue, which I did. The contributor copies arrived a few days ago. Seeing John's work and mine back to back was so strange--and in a foreign language no less.

It was very difficult to write the epilogue without falling into a chasm of sentimentality. I tried to follow the model of Tim O'Brien, who so brilliantly scaled the Vietnam War by placing it next to a comic book and a packet of KoolAid in the short story "The Things They Carried." I took John's life, suicide and all the rest of it and scaled it next to his beloved Rolex and a handful of numbers.

Was it right or wrong? I'll never know. I just hope I didn't sully John's fine work.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Forty nine is seven squared


My brother John would have turned 49 today. Now that's a number. Four. Tea. Nine. Fifty less one.

49.

You've got your 4, which is 2 squared; and you've got your 9, which is 3 squared. Then you've got 4 + 9, which is 13, and you don't want to mess around with 13. You've got to be careful with 13, but it's right on the ass of 49, like I just showed you.

You're probably not thinking about 5, but it's here. 9 - 4. There's your five. Just glance over your shoulder. Five is quiet, but with the sort of power it's swinging, why should it draw attention to itself? Five knows everything about every other number. Just dig how it's wrapped itself around 49.

(shhh. here's a secret. numbers are really characters in your life. really. I know what I'm talking about. I've seen these guys. careful.)



The stunning thing about that photo is the uncanny resemblance John would have to Dad later in life.

(this post is teetering on the edge of a giant glass.)

When people see that picture, they often think it is Johnny holding a baby. Nope. That's Dad holding Johnny. Dad's about 21 or 22. John is 30 or 31 in the picture at the top of this post. Now say "ricochet." Say it out loud.

You never think you'll be dealing with a word like posthumous until you're dealing with a word like posthumous. When it arrives, you stare at it and blink a few times, then you just sort of swallow it whole because there is no other choice.

(confidential to all you writerly types out there: ain't second person grand?)

I apologize. I'm doing the best I can. But with the giant glass and the 49 and the squares and the second person; with everything ricocheting around, it's not easy. Sort of like being alone in a crowded room or a really bad song lyric that you can't stop singing.

Posthumous.

John's last posthumous novel will be published later this year by Akashic Books. Here's a link.

There is more to be said about Better than I can fit into this post or, more accurately, into this day, the space around me or the space inside of me.

Stay tuned.

All the writing will eventually make it to the wall. But it will have to wait until the five stops shouting and the snapshots close back upon themselves.

To that end, I shall leave the conclusion of this post in more competent hands:

Thursday, January 22, 2009

True Hollywood story indeed



Shortly before my brother John committed suicide, a relatively unknown singer named Sheryl Crow hit the charts with a song called "Leaving Las Vegas."

The connection between John and the song was through David Baerwald, who knew John and was familiar with his novel Leaving Las Vegas. Baerwald had asked John about the title and John agreed that Baerwald and his Tuesday Music Club could use it as long as John got credit somewhere down the line (John's name never appeared in conjunction with the song, but make no mistake, the title for the song was born of the title of the novel).

Then on David Letterman one night, Crow was a guest and announced that the song was autobiographical. My brother was furious.

All sorts of rumors swirled around the story, most of them false. I'll clarify one and say that this fiasco was by no means the reason John committed suicide.

E! True Hollywood Story contacted me a few weeks ago about images of John, apparently for the Sheryl Crow THS premiere at 9 p.m. EST tomorrow night. I'll be interested to see how they handle it. It's never really been covered before, save for a story in the November 14, 1996 Rolling Stone, the cover story for which was on Sheryl Crow. Dad and I were both interviewed for it.

And now for a tidbit: My dad's meticulous notes regarding John's life indicate that A&M Records purchased some 470 copies of Leaving Las Vegas in 1993 in order to promote the Sheryl Crow song. Hm.

For those interested in more of John's story, here is a post that is chock full of links about John and my family.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

Cherries, bars, lemons, and plums

One of my favorite things about Leaving Las Vegas is the names of the four respective parts of the novel, which are, chronologically, cherries, bars, lemons, and plums. No one else ever notices that, or, if they do, no one has ever made a comment about those titles to me.

Sometimes I want to shout, "Hey! HEY! Didn't anybody notice the cool section names John put in this book? What is wrong with you people? Look at how perfect they are. THEY ARE PERFECT!!"

(Hey, John? No worries, I am receiving your broadcast. Cherries. Got it. Well done. I mean really well done. Genius, in fact.)

I am preoccupied with the predictable tinsel and colored sugar and shuffling that goes with this time of year. But the biorhythm of activity that follows in the wake of my brother's work is welling up again and so I'll pause for a moment to remember John, done appropriately enough by posting the first two paragraphs of Leaving Las Vegas:
cherries

Sucking weak coffee through a hole in the plastic lid of a red and green styrofoam cup, Sera spots a place to sit down. She has been
walking around now for at least two hours and wants desperately to rest. Normally she wouldn't dare hang around this long in front of a 7-11, but the curb looks high and, having recently accumulated a fresh coat of red paint, not too dirty. She drops down hard on the cold curb and hugs her knees, bending her head into the privacy of the dark little cave created by her arms. Her eyes follow the stream of light running between her two thighs, down to where it concludes in black lace, aptly exposed by her short leather skirt.

She throws back her head, and her dark brown hair fans around her shoulders, dances in the turbulence created by a passing Sun Bus; a window framed profile begins to turn and vanishes in a cloud of black exhaust. In the red gloss of her recently applied lipstick there is a tiny reflection of the glowing convenience store sign, its cold fluorescent light shining much too white to tan or warm the beautiful face appealing beneath it. She modestly lowers her knees, only to have the black blazer fall open as she leans back on her elbows, revealing her small breasts under a sheer lace camisole. Making no effort to cover herself, she turns her head; her dark green eyes, protected by long mascara-laden lashes, scan up and down Las Vegas Boulevard.

If you haven't read the book, you go on and do that. Go on and do that real soon.

(Bars, lemons, plums. Goddamn. I so love that, Johnny. I so love that.)

Friday, May 23, 2008

On the set

Tomorrow, I'll be at the Lit for a free screening of Leaving Las Vegas. The movie starts at 7 p.m. and I'll lead an informal talk afterwards. The event is free and open to the public.

Mom, Dad, Lisa (John's wife of 13 years), Eric (AKA the Goat), and I visited the film set on October 7, 1994. For a companion post to tomorrow's festivities, Here are a handful of photos from that day.


The set of Sera's apartment. Elisabeth Shue is far right.


Left to right: director Mike Figgis, me and Eric.


Nicolas Cage center. That's my mom on the right.


Mike Figgis directing. Lisa, Eric and Mom in the background


The production was very low budget. All the signs on the LLV Burbank studio were just like this one. Look at what a dork I was!


Director's chairs for Shue and Cage.

* * *
The only person missing that day was John, but only in the physical sense. Although I am not a Shirley-Maclaine-metaphysics-floatie-
ether-type person, I honestly felt John's presence all around us that day. I guess the best way to include him here is with a photo. So here is a pic of John and me in what John called "The Obligatory Big Phone Picture" that was taken by Lisa in the Universal Studios theme park in summer of 1986.

Wish you were here, John.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Leaving Las Vegas: Rearview


Bill and Johnny O'Brien, 1960


I wrote a complex feature on my brother John O'Brien's posthumous work for this week's Free Times. "Leaving Las Vegas: Rearview" was sparked by the publication of the anthology Las Vegas Noir (Akashic Books, May 2008) which includes a short story by John called "The Tik."


Cover letter that accompanied "The Tik" when John sent it to us in 1988.


When I read John's work, my mind and my heart refract his fiction like water bends light. It's just different for me. Hence, although I completely understand the following comments from Publisher's Weekly, they only tell half the story:

The late John O’Brien, best known for his novel-turned-film, Leaving Las Vegas, offers a typically warped and nihilistic vision of the city with “The Tik,” about a thrill-killing duo, narrated by the male half, whose indifference to his prey is chilling.--Publisher's Weekly, March 10, 2007

I knew I had to peel back the layer for everyone to see the real John O'Brien in "The Tik." To do that, I was obliged to look backwards through the lens of all of his posthumous fiction to the days of John's adolescence and my childhood.


Johnny and me, 1970.


As promised in the article, here is a photo post peppered with pertinent links for anyone who'd like to read on and on and on.

Leaving Las Vegas, Johnny, and a monster named Press. A kitchen table view of the calm behind the storm that raged in the wake of John's fiction.

An interview with StradaNove. All sorts of miscellany about John.


John held a few file clerk jobs, just like the main character in his novel Stripper Lessons.


What it's like to get the call. A meticulous accounting of the hours following John's suicide.

QRD interview. More Q&A on John and his work.


John's desk at his and then-wife Lisa's place in Venice Beach, circa 1990.


Shredded telephone books and barbecue dreams. Dead guy residue.


John in Venice Beach in 1992. He'd been sober about 8 months.


Me, Johnny, Gramp and a bombilation. One of my favorite posts about John, small and quiet.


Vacationing in Palm Springs in 1987.


The John O'Brien Wiki saga. Long, with many imbedded links, but mandatory reading for anyone who looks to Wikipedia for anything anytime. Truly unbelievable.

A column and an associated photo post. Christmas in July with my dad.

A girl named Jag. A love story for Dad.


Johnny, me and one of Dad's Jags, 1978.


The crash. How my life splintered into a million pieces in one moment--for the second time.

Dear Dad. A few things I had to say, no matter how late.


The house we grew up in at 14000 Lake Avenue in Lakewood.
Photo by Vernice Northrup.


Meeting Larry Brown. And why his work meant so much to me.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

I am a dork


A still from "Leaving Las Vegas" featuring Elizabeth Shue and Nicolas Cage.


A still from "Ms. Dork Visits a Hollywood Movie Set" featuring Erin O'Brien.

Friday, September 07, 2007

The Return of Prince Wiki **UPDATED**

**September 9, 2007 UPDATE**


Regarding the controversy outlined herein, I received the following email from Daniel Case today, Sunday, Sept. 9, 2007:

I apologize profusely for insinuating that you were responsible in some way for yourlate brother's suicide. It was vicious and over the line. It was late at night and I was letting my emotions get the better of me after reading some of the comments to your blog post ... my attention should have been directed at the commentators in question, not you.

* * *


I wrote this column on Wikipedia for the Cleveland Free Times in January 2007. In it, I rant about blatant falsehoods I found on Wiki concerning my brother, his watch, and a supposed cameo he did on a 1970 film "Scrooge." The article garnered this letter from one Daniel Case, who called for me to be fired and sent off with unfavorable references.

Nothing pleases me more than shining a light on my critics, so I announced and linked Case's letter in this January 2007 post. That entry got its share of comments at the time. Then nothing until the day before yesterday, nearly seven months since the whole thing transpired. And it was Mr. Daniel Case himself who published this comment:


Erin,

The fact is that you lied. Lied like a rug with cement blocks on it.

Every Wikipedia page has a history section, which anyone can look at, which shows all the edits changed and saved. None of the pages you claimed to have edited showed any record of the edits you claimed you made.

Those history pages (required under the licensing scheme we use) are like phone bills. If you did it, it's there. If you didn't, it's not. It's right. You're wrong. End of discussion.

As for your editor standing by you, I hadn't intended that email for publication, but, since I didn't say so, that's on me. All I can say is that that sacrifice of integrity (I would speculate from it that he's sleeping or has slept with you at some point ... I hope it was good for you because he writes like a guy with a tadpole in his trousers) in favor of friendship is proof positive that the Free Times has indeed gone waaaaay downhill under its present ownership. Cf. New York Times, Jayson Blair.

Your blog speaks for itself. Your brother was a truly talented writer ... I'm sure part of the reason he drank so much was having a bitter hanger-on like you as a sister.

September 5, 2007



I did those edits, Mr. Case.

I am very protective of John's memory. I don't know why the edits did not show up in the history, perhaps there was a technical glitch on Wiki's end or on my end (this was ages ago when I was still on dial-up). Every person reading this has seen computers eat files. Or maybe I effed something up while doing the edits, (although I tried to be very careful). I've also heard of super Wiki administrators who can delete stuff no one else can touch. Could some unseen power have effed with my edits? It doesn't seem likely, but who knows? There are some very powerful people who have a vested interest in the "mystery" and "legend" surrounding John O'Brien, his life, his death, and his work. I have no idea what happened, but I tried in good faith to set those Wiki pages straight. This was long before I was a columnist for the Free Times.

Then at some point, I revisited John's page and the "Leaving Las Vegas" page. The erroneous stuff was back. I was completely stunned. I thought: shit, someone must really have a good reason to keep putting this shit back up. Maybe there was something I didn't know about. So I talked to Mom and John's wife of 13 years, asking about whether John did do a cameo in a film unbeknownst to me, or if there was anything that might have been misconstrued as such. We talked about his beloved Rolex watch.

The Wiki statements were just plain wrong as I had thought. But to be sure I poked around trying to find if there was another John O'Brien who did a film cameo in "Scrooge." Maybe there was a mix up. No, it was all just a bunch of tripe. I tried to figure out what happened in the histories, but was completely confused. I was fed up with Wiki and its impossible pages at that point and decided not to re-edit (I have no idea if it's improved, but at that time editing pages was a nightmare). After all, what was the point if anyone could change it back?

Free Times Editor Frank Lewis and I talked about all of this when we got Case's first letter right after the column ran.

I am not going to gas on defending myself against the rest of Case's rubbish. But I will say this: I have nothing to hide. I invite anyone to edit my Wiki page or for that matter Case's Wiki page and link all of this.

One other interesting tidbit: after my Wiki column ran, someone edited out the stuff I said was false regarding John. But they did so very grudgingly, immediately stating in a discussion page that the edits should not be reinstated until another source could verify them--apparently John's Mom and sister are not reliable enough sources for verifying whether or not he traveled to California in 1970 to appear in a movie at age 10 (we lived in Brecksville, Ohio at the time).

People, this is who is running Wikipedia.

This is what happens when you publish an "encyclopedia" in which you let anyone say anything about anyone and and then let anyone else edit it. Granted, the vast majority of contributors are well intentioned, but even so, the pages are inundated with misinformation.

Don't believe me?

I just visited the "Leaving Las Vegas" Wiki page, wherein under "Production" it references John's suicide then states (at least until someone edits it), "As a result, the production was stopped temporarily." John died on April 10, 1994. I am pretty sure that film production had not yet begun. I am pretty sure this is bullshit. And although I am not cock-sure positive, I'm fairly certain I could dig through my boxes of LLV stuff and find a document that specifically references when production began and that it was a couple of months after John's death. And I suspect that someone somewhere planted this seed of misinformation in order to pump up the story behind "Leaving Las Vegas." It may have originated elsewhere ... until a completely honest and well-intentioned person read it and thought it would be a cool thing to add to the Wiki page.

Someone else do the research and correction. I'm too effing tired.

In the meantime, don't believe it. I was on the set of "Leaving Las Vegas" in October of 1994. Don't believe me? Here's a picture. I'm on the left. That's my sister-in-law on the right.



Now then, how many other itty-bitty details like that are floating around Wikipedia?



* * *


Note: I privately emailed Case to verify it was he who left that comment on my blog. This was his response:

"I wrote it but you can delete it ... it was rather rash and, in the morning light, I have reconsidered. In retrospect, better to let this drop for now.

I still know you made that bit in your column up, though ... I notice you have never denied it. My guess is that you'll do something like that again and get caught, so I'll leave it to fate."

Another note: There are plenty of other people who have hurt me and my family by way of my brother's memory.

And one last note: I am writing this because Case has ignited an email firestorm over it and I felt the need to tell the truth once and for all and put this to bed.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Interview

The Italian publication StradaNove has run a lengthy interview with me. Here is the article in Italian. Hop over there if you know Italian or to see some cool old photos, including one of John and me as kids, one of John and Lisa and my parents on the day John and Lisa got married, one of John and Dad and me, and one of John and Mom. As for the text, I'm including the entire interview in English below.

Also, if anyone can translate the introductory paragraph of the Italian article for me, I'd appreciate it. Those auto-translate programs aren't so great.

Interview with Erin O'Brien on John O'Brien
by Leonardo Moro

What is the first thing you remember about your brother?

When I was about 5, my mother made me a beanbag shaped like a frog that I called Froggy. I loved it and carried it everywhere I went. John was 10. For Christmas that year, and with the help of my father, he made a little wooden bed for my companion, complete with "Froggy" carved in the top.

Can you tell us about John’s childhood?

John was at once shy and brooding and very funny and clever. His relationship with our father was difficult and he had his share of troubles with bullies and girls. He loved to read, was compulsive about how his toys were arranged, and was curious about astronomy as well as photography. He once had a glass cutting/finishing machine. He made dozens of pencil pots with it. One fashioned from a green glass Coke bottle sits on my desk. It houses a nail file, some highlighters, a green pen, and a paring knife.



How were John's years at Lakewood High School? What kind of student was he?

John was a good student, excelling at advanced classes in English, physics, and calculus. He did not date much until his senior year. His sharp wit made him a favorite with his teachers. He was not involved in athletics, nor was he one of the popular set. He was a member of the Latin Club, which was unusually popular at LHS. I was also a member and still keep in touch with Emil Sors, who instructed both John and me in Latin in those years. John gave away exactly four signed copies of "Leaving Las Vegas" as gifts, one of which went to Sors. The other recipients were his then-wife Lisa, my parents, and my maternal grandmother.

I’ve read that John got married when he was just nineteen years old. Was it a good marriage?

John began dating Lisa Kirkwood soon after they graduated from Lakewood High School in 1979. They married in August 1979 and divorced in 1992. Lisa often refers to John as the love of her life, which I admire greatly as she tolerated much from John over the years due to his drinking and high-strung ways. I always felt Lisa kept John alive and I feared terribly for him when they divorced, which was per John's wishes and not Lisa's. They had no children.

Are you still in touch with John’s wife?

Absolutely. Lisa is an important part of our family. My husband and I, as well as my mother and daughter, adore her and miss her terribly. She lives 2000 miles away in Los Angeles. She comes to visit once or twice a year. We look forward to seeing her over the 2006 Christmas holiday.

What jobs did John have during his lifetime?

As a teenager, John worked bussing tables at Tony's Restaurant and Don's Lighthouse and as a mail clerk for the Winton Place Apartments, where our mother was the manager. He was also a clerk for the law firm Squires Sanders and Dempsey. All of those jobs were in Cleveland. I'm sure he held any number of jobs during his years in Los Angeles, none of which stick out in my memory save his last job, wherein he worked roasting coffee beans at Graffeo Coffee in Beverly Hills. He loved that job.

Who are the writers he liked most?


John greatly admired Bob Dylan. The three books he gave me were "The Sportswriter" by Richard Ford, "American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis and "A Fan's Notes" by Fred Exley. He gave our mother "Bright Lights, Big City" by Jay McInerney. He also read Don Delillo, Gore Vidal, Hunter Thompson, and Faulkner.

Did John ever work as a screenwriter?

John wrote a screenplay called "The Rest of Jackie," which was a rewrite of "Days of Wine and Roses." I do not know what became of it.

John also wrote an episode of the children's television show "Rugrats" under the pen name Carol Mine, which was the name of the main character in Stripper Lessons. Rugrats episode #37 is called "Toys in the Attic."

In 1990 a small publisher issued “Leaving Las Vegas”. Was he happy about that news?

In order to answer that, I will quote John. This is the inscription he wrote in the copy of "Leaving Las Vegas" that he gave to our maternal grandmother.

"Grandma-

Saturday I received my first two copies; this is one of them. I want you to know how much I love you and think about you, how I've always felt a special bond between us, and how I wish that we were together right now.

Love, Johnny
20 May 1991"

Did publishers ever reject his works?


Unlike the film version, the novel "Leaving Las Vegas" opens with the scene wherein Sera is raped and sodomized by three college students. The noir nature of the text garnered rejections from the big houses, which is why it ended up at a smaller press.

Despite the favorable reviews of John's debut novel, it was not a commercial success until after his death and the making of the film. John was unable to place his other efforts, "Stripper Lessons" and an unpublished novel called "Better." The only two publications John had while alive were "Leaving Las Vegas" and the "Rugrats" episode.

John was vain to a fault about his work and took rejection and external editing very hard. The reason he used the pen name "Carol Mine" on the "Rugrats" episode was because he was furious over how the segment was edited and did not want his name associated with the project. He told me he chose the unusual pen name as he could prove it was his "because it's the name of a character in one of my manuscripts." The unpublished manuscript to which he referred was "Stripper Lessons." I have a copy of his original submission to "Rugrats" as well as a copy of the episode as it aired. I consider the edits to be completely appropriate. In my opinion, John overreacted.

How did John get in touch with the director Mike Figgis before he wrote the screenplay adaptation of John’s novel?

John and Figgis had minimal interaction. Figgis's screenplay, however, closely follows the novel. Had John lived to see the film come to fruition, however, I believe he would have taken exception to the rape scene with Sera and the college students being moved to the end of the movie. John introduced Sera with the rape scene in the front end of the novel in order to dispel accusations that her character was a clichéd "hooker with a heart of gold."

When did John start having problems with alcohol abuse?

John's drinking problem started as soon as his drinking started. By the time he was 20, he was taking a clandestine flask to work. By the time he was 26, he was chugging vodka directly from the bottle at morning's first light in order to stave off the shakes. I know. I saw him do it.

Do you think that there was a reason why he committed suicide?

I imagine John committed suicide because he no longer wanted to live.

Do you remember when he started writing? What were the first stories about?

John started writing in the late 1980's. Like his character Ben, he purged most of his possessions before committing suicide. Hence, his preliminary work is mostly lost. I have one short story he wrote in January of 1988 called "The Tik." It is replete with booze and sex and violence. In the cover letter to our parents and me, John describes it as "atypical" but also as his "personal favorite." Hence, I'm sure there were other short stories, but I don't believe he preferred that format.

In Italy “Stripper Lessons” hasn’t published yet. What is it about? When did he write it?

In Stripper Lessons, a young man named Carol Mine who works as a clerk for a law firm spends his free time worshipping the women who dance at a local strip club. I use the work "worship" very specifically. This novel is all about John O'Brien on religion. He wrote it in 1991.

Are there unpublished novels or short stories?

Just the ones I've mentioned herein.

You gave a valuable contribution to “The Assault on Tony’s”. Do you want to tell us about it?

This is a very difficult topic for me. I am at work on a memoir in which I talk at great length about "Tony's." It is the novel at which John was at work at the time of his death. I contributed one chapter and an afterward to it. The afterward is honest enough, but the chapter I wrote disgusts me at every turn. The book represents the end of John's writing career and the beginning of mine. For years, John would appear in my dreams expressing disappointment over the entire project.

What was the novel about? When did he write it?

John started work on "Tony's" about a year before his death. It tells the story of a group of wealthy alcoholic men who barricade themselves inside a posh bar while race riots rage outside. John uses this fecund premise to explore the difficult relationship between John and our father. "Tony's" is primarily a psychological work.

Did John ever meet someone like Sera from "Leaving Las Vegas?"

The question of whether or not Sera was based on a living person remains forever unanswered. John did make any number of trips to Las Vegas while researching the novel. I don't know if those trips included interviews with prostitutes.

The more I muse on Sera, however, the more I believe her to be purely fictional. She is John's representation of a cleansing angel. She is often described as a fantasy hooker, but very few note that Ben and Sera never consummate their relationship. Sera is a figurative virgin when Ben dies at the end of the work. I love the poetic irony of her character. She is at once pure from sin and sullied with it. Furthermore, both permutations are completely earned and plausible. Kudos, John.

How autobiographical is the character of Ben?

John surely projected his own severe alcohol addiction onto Ben. But Ben's death was much more poetic than John's. John died alone in a barren apartment from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. I suspect John would have liked to be more like his character, whom Cage once described as having a sort of "crumbling elegance." But fictional characters are limited by the two dimensions that define them. John was a whole man with a past and a future. He tried to quit drinking many times. He had more fame ahead of him than most writers ever dream of. As for those of us John left behind, the profound grief we walked through after his death erased the last twisted shred of innocence our family had.

Are John’s works popular in the U.S.? Do American people like them?

I do not track John's sales. As for the American people, I don't understand how any of them could possibly like George Bush. Nonetheless, he is president. Goes to show you what I know.

Have his books been translated in other languages?

I have copies of "Leaving Las Vegas" in Japanese, German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and Norsk. There are likely other editions of which I am unaware. No foreign rights for "The Assault on Tony's" or "Stripper Lessons" were ever sold.

I’ve heard that you released a book of yours not long ago. Do you want to talk about it?

My first novel, "Harvey & Eck," was also published by a small independent house (Zumaya Publications) in 2005. Ironically, my book is about the period of time that precludes life, whereas "Leaving Las Vegas" is about the prelude to death. Whenever I make that assertion, I hear John chortling from his papery grave and calling me a sap under his breath while rolling his eyes.

I also write a bi-weekly column called "Rainy Day Woman" for the Cleveland Free Times (www.freetimes.com) and I maintain a blog of questionable character, "The Erin O'Brien Owner's Manual for Human Beings" (erin-obrien.blogspot.com) as well as an informational website (www.erinobrien.us). I am a writer. I write all the time.

What do you miss most about John?

His breathing and the beating of his heart.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Hurt real bad

April 10, 1994

I wake not feeling right. Don't feel right. Not right. I call in sick to work. "Just not feeling right," I tell my boss. "Sorry, but I'm not right. Can't put my finger on it." Confusion and bewilderment shroud the entire day. I stay in bed, but cannot get warm. My husband Eric comes home from work. "I'm just not right," I tell him.

"Something's wrong," I say over a half eaten bowl of soup. "I'm cold. I'm going back to bed." Sleep is fitful.

April 11, 1994

The phone rings at seven minutes after midnight.

"Erin."

"Dad?" I say.

"John's gone."

"What?" I say, the terrible truth blooming in the space between my heart and my head.

"A gun," he says. "With a gun. John. He's gone."

"What?" I say.

"He's gone."

"Where?" I say. "Where was he?"

"In his apartment," says Dad. "Yesterday sometime. Maybe the afternoon."

Silence.

"Tomorrow," I say, a word flickering with hope.

"Yes," says Dad, an endorsement.

The rest of our lives begin.

I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Erin?" says my husband from behind.

"John shot himself," I say to the air. "John's dead."

I rise from the bed and step into the bathroom. Bright light floods the room. I study my face in the mirror.

"Impossible," I say to myself. I retch in the toilet.

That unearthly cold spreads from the tips of my fingers and toes upward and inward.

I retrieve my copy of Leaving Las Vegas from a pressboard bookshelf that is next to a sagging couch in the living room. I open it to the otherwise blank cover page.

He never signed it. You never asked him to sign it.

John had sent me a purposeful, handwritten letter years before. I pull it from the cubbyhole of a green upright desk that once belonged to my maternal grandmother.

There are three more books to collect. I carry the letter and Leaving Las Vegas with me, close to my chest as I gather them: A Fan's Notes, American Pyscho and The Sportswriter, Christmas gifts from a brother to a sister.

I place the books on my nightstand and stare into the night. A dull deep pain that will remain for more than three weeks settles into my stomach. My hands and feet are ice. I stare at the spines of the books. I hold the pages of the letter in my hands.

Where is my brother's body? Has someone covered his body? Are his brains splattered against an otherwise white wall? Who will clean it up? How can I transport myself from Cleveland, Ohio to Beverly Hills, California in an instant and make sure the evidence of my brother's violent end is cleaned up?

He put the barrel of a gun in his mouth and he pulled the trigger.

Someone has to clean up my brother's brains because they are no longer residing in his head where they are supposed to be, connected in their enigmatic nuero-order.

What does his face look like? In it's death mask?

I reach out my hand to the empty space above me. My husband Eric lies next to me, helpless, his enormous hand on my waist.

"Johnny?"

The digital numerals on my bedside clock plod through their predictable cycles, one green line segment giving way to another. I rise from the bed at some point between darkness and light.

With the books and letter in the crook of my arm, I retrieve a bottle of liquor and pour a few fingers into a glass. The burning taste in my mouth.

I go back up the stairs, books in tow.

Rain falls indifferently upon the night that is simultaneously endless and instantaneous. I survive it somehow. I lie next to Eric until the blackness disintegrates into dawn. I rise, dress and step out into the gray rain. I walk the streets of my otherwise ridiculously picture perfect development. I walk. My stomach hurts. Freezing cold.

Evidence of life.

* * *


John had emerged from the delirium tremors once, he'd told us. In the last moment before he surfaced from the hell and demons, everything stopped and John heard a voice. He described it as a woman's voice. Singing. Crystal clear singing, he'd said.

"We've lost you," lilted the voice. "but we'll get you back." Then John awakened to the shaking sweating aftermath.

* * *


As the rain falls upon me on the morning after John's suicide, I wonder if my brother has finally succumbed to the singing woman, or if he has just escaped her.

I have carried that question with me for twelve years.



John O'Brien

May 21, 1960 - April 10, 1994




Notes:

This is an excerpt from my memoir, on which I am currently at work.

I am closing public comments on this post for personal reasons. However, anyone may contact me off-list at eobnow@yahoo.com.