My Sensei, steaming mad just one week ago, has calmed down. “I’ve calmed down,” he says. Rosanna Arquette really got under his skin, and while his rebuttal was as classy as her comments were cheap, there was bad energy that lingered for too long. What’s the big deal? I’d ask him. She’s only doing it for the publicity. She’s in a million movies right now. You’re not even friends. Don’t you think there are other people you’ve worked with who would betray you if they got the chance? “Sure,” he says, “but they haven’t. She did. I worked with Spike Lee, too, back in 1995. I was in a movie of his called Girl 6—you can’t find it anywhere because Prince did all the music, and it’s wall-to-wall Prince music. I like the movie, and we got along fine when we were shooting it, but then Jackie Brown comes out two years later, and he’s running his fucking mouth in the press about how I can’t say—”
His favorite word. He hates when I make that joke. “It’s not my favorite word,” he says, “I’m just not going to be muzzled by people who know nothing about filmmaking or don’t understand the process. I’m an artist—my pen is my antenna to God. And whatever comes out of that pen, I have to follow, whether I edit it down or throw it out or put it in the movie. You know, I wrote the ‘Royale with Cheese’ scene; I wrote the scene in Reservoir Dogs where they talk about Madonna’s pussy and the ethics of tipping and not tipping in restaurants. My last movie didn’t even have the word in it. I’m still just blown away that Rosanna thought destroying her relationship with me was worth the quick publicity it got her.” But did you even have a “relationship”? “To the extent that we were once artistic colleagues, on my most famous movie no less. I was hurt. If she actually cared, she would’ve talked to me in the last 30 years. But she didn’t. She’s not a friend.”
Unlike me. Maybe you heard that My Sensei is staging his debut theatrical production, The Popinjay Cavalier, in London early next year. He’s said to be auditioning “several high profile Hollywood actors,” including me. Where’s my script? “Not ready yet,” he says, “but I promise you: it’s a choice role.” A speaking part? Any lines? “…We’ll see.” He’s quiet. I remind him that birds of my feather would’ve been common in the 1830s, when The Popinjay Cavalier takes place. I was there. But My Sensei still doesn’t believe that I’m as old as I am. “How could you have met Thomas Edison? You’re a—” and then he used his other favorite word, the “chicken” slur, to describe me. He thought he caught himself, but I started clawing the carpet and making a big mess and he gave in. “We’ll put you on the boat,” he says, “we’ll put you on the boat.”
Will this be a movie? “Quite possibly. But the play has to be a success, otherwise I’m not even going to take it on tour. I’ve already been through one Broadway bomb, I don’t need another.” I tell him he was good in the 1998 revival of Wait Until Dark, but again, he’s not having it… not that he minds the praise, but he’s confused as to how I could’ve possibly seen it; he knows I did, because the show was never recorded and I’ve recounted details only those audience members would remember. He still thinks I’m faking, that I have someone helping me. God, if only.
“Okay… if you want to be in my pirate ship play, you’ll have to wear ruffly lace shirts and silk stockings. You game?” Of course I am. But I have one question. What if my internet goes out?
It’s a joke—My Sensei gets it. You wouldn’t, because you’re not part of our special group. I’m really part of the inner circle now, and it feels nice, because you know that you’re better and more important than other people, and to me, that’s all that matters. Artistic success is fine, food, sex, drugs, whatever—I could take it or leave it. But the status? I need the status. I am the status. You know why? Because I AM SOMEBODY. Bennington Quibbits, esq. You’ll know the name soon enough.
—Follow Bennington Quibbits on Twitter: @RoosterQuibbits