Jocelyn Jacobs
Dear Anne,

I just read your book. You really know how to sink into life. I’ve been hiding a lot and I’m afraid I may never get to the “Other Side” like you write about. I can only write from the posterior position —lying down that is. (I’m so stupid sometimes I don’t even know what posterior means.)

I realize it takes time. Maybe that’s a good thing. I have this feeling things are about to get ugly. You write a lot about shit and shame. I have a lot of shit inside of me. Garbage, Coke cans, cigarette butts, empty chip bags and dirt. Sometimes I feel like there’s a rotting corpse inside my body.

And then you were a lesbian? But just for a little while? No one takes bisexuals seriously. I know from experience. I remember making fun of you in the tabloids. You looked insanely beautiful wandering around topless mumbling about Outer Space. “Anne Heche goes Crazy!” I said something bitchy about how you weren’t even lesbian. You were kind of like nothing. I’m sorry for that now.

I’m amazed at all you’ve been through. I feel sick. I want to open up and let people in. I just push people away and then expose myself in inappropriate ways. I like my body, but I don’t know how to get my insides to open up. I’m sick. I’m tense. I want to work and make art and open up. Call me Crazy! I love that.

First I’m gonna make it. Then I’m gonna break it till it falls apart. Shiver and Save the World—every lie you’ve heard.

Do you know Echo and the Bunnymen? Bring on the new Messiah! Like YOU! And you have the stigmata to prove it. I want to be a real artist and not just a victim all the time. How do you feel about Victim Culture? Do you think writing your book helped? Do you know about Mike Kelley? Do you think he’s making fun of us? I need to open up and make this life count. I’m afraid I’m wasting it out of spite. I want love and joy and happiness!

The whole time I was growing up I told the stories of what was happening over and over again. It got me high. It was worse for you, but reading your book I was a little jealous. You really turned some shit into rainbows. I mean basically you are amazing. My case wasn’t as extreme as yours, but maybe that was the problem.

I want to be places, enjoy things and not be judgmental. It’s hard, though, because sometimes Bad feels Good and Good feels Bad. Like for you Crazy felt Sane and Sane felt Crazy. I’m used to sinking into my own shit and playing around there. I’m kind of like Paul McCarthy! Do you know him? I wonder if you are into Contemporary Art? Anyway, I stew—or else I Act. We really have a lot in common, Anne. I act all the time! Mostly I act cool and detached. I wanted to be an actor—but all those acting people are too touchy feely for me. I couldn’t trust the moment—in my body. I guess they don’t actually touch you in acting class.

I think it is a testament to your strength that you believed in your memory. I think it makes all the difference. Because it can Fuck with your Intuition. And you know how difficult that can be. You’re an actress. And you’re really talented. I’ve been watching your movies and you’re busting at the seams! You’re kind of a comic genius. In Six Days and Seven Nights, you turned a New York hipster into pure Charlie Chaplin. I wonder, though, why so many of your movies involve exotic islands and erupting volcanoes.

Do you think this kind of Luxury, this extreme self-involvement happens in the third world? I don’t think so, Anne. I don’t know if these tell-all books really make anything better. Did it really help you into a “rebirth”? I heard a social worker on NPR talking about Cambodia. The Cambodians were depressed. The social worker helped people to do three things: to touch, to forget, and to work.

The flags are waving and the inflatable RED TAG SALE is going strong. Near here is a place called Clairemont Mesa Blvd. where all the car dealerships are. It’s giant. The road has 12 lanes, and it’s not even a freeway. Everything here is really big. It’s disgusting. I want to be part of the World but the World is so revolting. The world is full of people being blown up and starving and being exploited. I’m full of shame. I’m ashamed for everyone and how little we do to make it better. I’m ashamed of art. Where is our OUTRAGE? Oh, Anne! We’ll show the world that it isn’t the small mean place it appears to be.

Thanks for everything, Anne. I’m taking my cues from you!

Yours Truly,