QUID-QUO PRODUCTIONS (09/14/24)————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-My 1st memory after the accident was opening my eyes, squinting at the confusing fluorescent lights on the ceiling, then looking down, seeing a HUGE amount of wires sticking out of my right leg, trying to point at them with my right hand and arm, which I was VERY unable to do, and - in whatever form of, “language,” I was able to speak - asking my (now) ex-GF what was going on, where I was, and why I was there. After a really short answer about the accident that got me there, I was overly surprised and shocked, then passed WAY back out.My 2nd memory being me, opening my eyes again, squinting at the lights again, looking over - AGAIN - and being SO excited to see my sister, and seeing my mom right behind her. I don’t have a sister, but my 1/2 sister who I’d thought I’d just seen’d been dead - at that time - for about twenty-five years. And my mother’d passed over twenty years prior. But, who I’d seen was the ex, and she explained quickly that she wasn’t my sister, but the GF, and that that obviously wasn’t MY mom, it was my friend, who was HER mom. Of course, surprised, I passed way out again.3rd memory being sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed around the hospital room, saying, quote, “Nope, nope, NOPE,” getting out, laying back in my hospital bed, and very actively saying that I’d never be in a wheelchair again. Quite a while after that, maybe a year or so, my doctors said that they were sure that I’d be bedridden for the rest of my life, and once I got up, I’d always need a wheelchair, and a bit after the ‘nope incident,’ I’d always use a walker, then I’d always need a cane. Going back to the end of memory 1, the accident was me, on H’ween night, 2017, at 1:31 a.m., walking home from - quite ironically - The Viper room after seeing a few friend’s bands, crossing on the green light at La Cienega and San Vicente about two blocks from home, and getting hit by a suspected drunk driver, who ran a red light from the left turn lane, making a hard right turn directly into me, doing 50 in a 35, in what was - and I only found out in 2023 - a stolen car.Unofficially pronounced dead on arrival by the LAFD paramedics, then officially - twice - on the operating table the next evening before I went into my month and a half coma, which I found out in mid-2024 was medically induced, I wasn’t expected to live through said coma. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be for more than a month, and even if I did, I was told very actively much, much later, that I’d never read or write correctly ever again, my thought processing and speech would be a real problem as well, and, no, I’d never walk again. Years later, I’ll quote my doctor, “Yes, we never thought you’d walk again, and that you’ve improved SO much, we’re not sure if your body’s still that injured, of if it’s your mind-set that’s still keeping you struggling with movement.” Oh, and from before, after the walking, talking, and thought difficulty that I’d always have, “And we knew that you’d never be able to work creatively ever again.”That said, 4th memory’s my being in the early days of physical therapy, and having a therapist tell me how surprised she was that I’d done the suggested exercises at home, so I told her that it was suggested, but really that it was very strongly insisted, that they would help a ton. She responded with the fact that a lot of - most of, actually - the injured didn’t want to, or WOULDN’T, but, really and/or basically, refused to do their exercises. Then, at that exact moment, an older lady at the next desk over said, and I quote, “But I’m exercising right here, right now! I don’t want to do them at home. They’re hard to DO!”That’s about when memory starts getting better, day by day, and when I start remembering my past, very little by very little. That’s about when the ex-GF started making me read emails to, and from, some other lady friend, and her telling me a few things that I can’t believe that I actually did. I’d get upset, and sad, and keep trying to explain that I didn’t remember any moment of ANY of that, and I’d try to explain in length that same fact. Different note: One of my therapists giving me the, as was mostly said, “The Rule Of Three,” or something to that effect:1) Is this worth it for me to even say, 2) Are they, whoever “they” are, going to be interested, and, 3) How can I keep this to three sentences or fewer?Things that I definitely weren’t supposed to remember: At least five years prior to the accident. It was made very clear to me that those previous years were 100% gone.So here’s what I don’t remember 100% of: Any relationship or relationship-wise memories of ANY kind. Anything sexual, any of the cheating that was said that I’d done, or any of the arguments.. Also, and this was unexpected, any of the live music shows that I’d been to after around 2010. And I’ve been to a ton of festivals, live shows and concerts, both big and small, but really not one. Having seen my favorite band of all time, Faith No More, in 2015, and not even close to remembering having been there, well, disappointing is the kind word to say.What I actually DO remember, here ’n there: Little tiny bits of places that I’ve been, bits of bizarre stories, and little memories from work. Having travelled around the entire country, and a bit around the world for work, remembering bits ’n pieces is both good and great and bad.As I was talking with my Aunt on one of our weekly phone calls some time ago, I said, again, quote, “Going from coming back as a six year old, to where I am right now…,” and she sort of interrupted me with, “No, you went from a newborn to where you are today.” So, yeah, my earliest memory from above - were people who were around when I was six, to actually - and quite literally - coming back from the dead. A big part of what she’d mentioned is that I could barely make a noise, much less talk understandably or even close to correctly.And, AND, to have come back to have ANY sort of being able to remember day by day things, such as eating or doing anything creative, like, let’s say writing, and, YES, eating, during a pandemic was as much of a life changer as the accident. With only two other people anywhere near me for about a year and a half - my aunt and my uncle - was almost as if I was getting back to being me all by myself. I saw my cousins once apiece, and my daughter with her BF once, well, I still can’t believe that that’s the way that it went, and SO well. It just might say something about who I am, who I’ve always been, where I’ve come from, who I am right now, and how I look at life.Well, the next step when I was pre-writing this story was/is a list. That list is as follows:“Okay, let’s course this down:What was the accident, What did that mean and do to me,Who was the ex, and what she meant to me, What I do remember, What I DON’T remember, What exactly does a little bit at a time, day by day, mean; then AND now, Where was I,And where am I right now?!”‘Kay, now I’m writing this without notes, so…:1. What Was The Accident?On Halloween night, 2017, I was walking home at 1:31 from a few friend’s shows at, ironically, The Viper Room, and I was at San Vicente and La Cieneg crossing the street at the corner, with the crosswalk signal on the crossing light, and, according to witnesses, a car, with a drunk driver driving, and having what looked liked an angry argument about what was in each others phones between a man and a woman - he driving in the drivers seat, and she in the passenger seat - ran a red light. The car was doing 50 m.p.h. in a 35 zone, and he ran said light from the left turn lane, making a VERY hard right turn directly into me. Small side note goes here: There was a lawsuit many years after that, and one of my lawyers asked me if I’d, “Seen a video of anything that happened that night?” I assumed that they were asking if there WAS a video, and I said, “No.” After that call ended, I chatted with my aunt and uncle, telling them that the lawyer had asked if there WAS a video, and I said that there was absolutely not. They looked at each other, looked at me at the same time, then looked back each other. It looked like a confused look, but I found out that it was concern. He shrugged, she smirked, then pointed at him. He closed his eyes, opened them after a moment of thought, looked at me, and: “Yes, there IS a video. We’ve seen it, and it’s nearly impossible to get through the whole thing. We never told you about it, as we didn’t want you to actually know. It’s probably not something that you could even handle watching, much less all the way until the end.” So, I messaged my friend who’d become a city council member after my accident - more on that in a bit - and she wrote back, quote, “Oh yes, there is. I’ve seen it, and it took me a LONG time to make it to the end. It’s nearly impossible to watch. It’s VERY hard to look at.”Side note over, so, I was run into on my right side, and most of my right leg was shattered, part of my right arm was splintered, and there’s a scar in my right skull. I’ve got a donated right knee tendon, and an artificial left knee one as well. I’ve been told many times how fortunate I am that my ankles, hips, elbows, and spine had little to no damage. Oh, and I just found out in 2023 that it was a stolen car. So, no, whoever did this was never caught. I was pronounced dead three times over the next two days. Once, unofficially by the LAFD paramedics as they were bringing me back to life, but it’s on LAPD body cam that after the paramedics told the police officers what was at risk here, the officer said - according to my lawyer - “Well, even if you DO get him back to life, no one will come looking for him, as he’s homeless. Nobody’s going to care.” When I was working in the entertainment business, I started growing a beard, as I thought that it would be funny if I looked like a farmer, a hill-billy, or, QUITE ironically, a homeless man. Back in the day before beards were considered, “cool,” again. And pronounced dead - officially - twice on the operation table. After that 2nd time, I’m not sure if I was medically put, or automatically went, into a come. Where I was for a month and a half. (As I mentioned above, I relatively recemtly found out from a friend that it was medically induced.)2. What Did That Mean To Me?Well, short answer: I don’t know. Yes, I was brought back from the dead, and, yes, it took me six months to even come close to walking again, but the truth is that I’m not really sure. A good couple of years afterwards, one of my doctors said, and he said that he was speaking for both of them, as they’d had a long conversation about the following, quote, “Yes, there’re three versions of TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury). 1st is mild, 2nd is moderate, and the 3rd is severe. As we’d talked about it, we decided that there should be a 4th version, for you, and people like you, which are few and far between: Extreme.” And, again, that I’d come back in a few ways that THEY couldn’t even understand, I guess that’s pretty much what it meant, and what it means to me. I’ve said multiple times that I don’t believe in luck. Life’s often exactly what we make of it. Sometimes there are things we can’t control, but often, we’ve made choices that brought where we are. I’d say that I’m very fortunate that I’m alive, and am doing the things that I do.There was a long time post-accident that I was very unhappy. “Why did this happen? Will I ever be able to do anything normal again?! I just want everything to be alright again.” Then, mid-pandemic, I - quite literally - woke up one day, and told myself to get over it. Accept the fact that I’m getting a tiny bit better at everything, in slightly different ways, day by day by day. And, I’m 99% sure was the day that I started thinking and talking and walking better. A tiny bit better, and in slightly different ways, day after day. And I went from having very down days about 1/2 of the week, and having happier day the other half, to basically forcing myself to be in a good, usually great, mood. Every. Single. Day.3. Who’s The Ex,And What Did She Mean To Me?How these seemingly simple questions get more complicated as time progresses, both as I’m writing this right now, and as the days go by, sometimes confuses me. But, to begin, the ex’s name is Alex, and we were together for 13 years. Wait, no, it was late 2002 until early 2020. So, 18 years. I’m blowing my OWN mind now. The reason this’s such an I Don’t Know, Exactly, is because, obviously pots-accident, I can’t remember any of my previous relationships. Not a moment of a single one. And, if you don’t know me, you should know that I have a daughter, who was born, either quite ironically or not, on H’ween, ’91. Right away, after the accident, another one of my earliest memories was that I have a daughter. To remember that means a ton, but I don’t remember a moment of the relationship with her mom. I could, right now if asked, walk anyone through the two story house that she was housesitting when my daughter was conceived. I remember the place, the room, but being with her, never. Not one moment. And to have heard, from Alex, that I’d cheated on her a bunch in those 18 years, but, AGAIN, I literally don’t remember one second of any of that.I’ve had a conversation or two with a few of those women, two of whom I knew I’d known, but not that I knew them in, “that way,” and one that I don’t remember at all. “It’s okay,” is not exactly the answer I’d like to hear after I’ve said, that post-death, I don’t remember our affair(s). Again, I’ve been told a few bizarre things, and a few that don’t make any sense, but to have become a - again, quite literally - different person after all of that, to hear a few of the things that don’t sound like me, and to be told that, “You were a real a’hole usually,” and, “You’re quite a different person now, but kind of the same, in the best ways(s) possible,” well, y’know. I’m kind of going off topic, so, the ex told me many times about MANY different scenarios that sounded awful, but I’ve been told by multiple people that it was kind of like that, but I wasn’t always the bad guy. And that it was a relationship that should’ve ended years before, as neither of us were exactly happy.As my friend Danny said a while back, after we’d been talking about the good and not so good things in said relationship, and after I’d mentioned how it’d ended, “Wait. She? Broke up with you?!” That, again, blew my f’ing mind. I’d been told since right after the accident, by Alex, that I’d always been the bad guy. But after the conversation with Danny, I talked to a lot of my old friends about it, and they all said pretty much the same thing: That we were both troubled in VERY different ways, and neither of us were the good guy, or the bad guy, but that I drank too much alcohol, and that she had gigantic problems with her father that never got taken care of properly. Oh, and that, towards the end, we went through about six months of couple’s therapy, at 1st once week, then pandemic times hit, so once a month, and I learned quite a bit about myself that I’d never known, like that I’d watched my mom cheat on her boyfriend in the early years, and how this effected me in large ways, but the ex refused to acknowledge that her relationship with her dad had any effect on her, or us, or anything, really. She actually said something to the effect of all she could think about was what I’d done. I understood - and understand - but to have gone from who I was to who I am now, well, she was dealing with a totally different person, and refused to believe that.4. “What Do I Remember, And What DON’T I Remember?!”Quite a while after the accident, my doctors were VERY clear that my memory would be totally gone from a bit after the accident, the actual accident itself, and at LEAST the five years prior to the accident. Those previous ten years would be hit and/or miss, and beyond that, no one knows. Or knew, anyway. So, what I don’t remember is as follows: I don’t remember one single second of the accident, it’s immediate aftermath, or, as I’ve said before, anything until waking up and looking down at the many wires sticking out of my leg. I was going to move on to what I do remember, then back to what I don’t, but I’ll keep it as clear as I can from here on out. I don’t remember a single moment of any of my romantic life. In those five years, and a few years before that, I don’t remember any of the live concerts or shows that I’d attended. And, as having worked in the entertainment industry for years, I didn’t remember any movies that I’d ever seen.Except that I did and do. Every time I’ve re-watched a movie that I’d seen, and didn’t remember seeing, as soon as I saw the first shot, I’d remember 95% of everything that came afterwards. One day, in February 2024, I was walking along H’wood and the Egyptian Theater’d just opened back up. So I went in and asked what was playing. “We’re having a Kim Novak retrospective. It’s two days, and we’re on day two. Tonight’s last show is at 7:30, and it’s ‘Vertigo’.” To which I replied, quote, “Oh, my favorite movie ever made on the big screen?!” And, yes, I knew that it was my favorite movie from a younger age, but, after I’d bought my ticket, had dinner, and went in the theater, I knew that I wouldn’t remember a moment of it. Until I did! And I was quietly saying lines as they were being spoken in said movie. So that’s one of the odd things that I do remember.When a few of my ex-co-workers and I met up for lunch, we were talking about a few things, and then I mentioned that I’d just seen one of the fellows from one of the reality TV episodes that we’d all worked on. “He saw my face, then that I had a camera, then my face, and he said to the man who was petting his dog, ‘Oh, my dog really wants to get home. We’ve got to go!’” And away he went. So, I mentioned a memory of the show, with that particular guy, that we’d all worked on. “You put down your camera, and said that you had to hit the bathroom, and said, ‘If anything happens, you know what do do.’ Yeah, pick up the camera, keep it in focus, hit the ‘On’ button, and…’ Then you said, ‘I’ve got to go NOW,’ and rushed off to the b’room. Then the owner thought that there weren’t any camera operators around, so he started yelling at one of the employees, so I picked up the camera, got it going, and what I’d shot was the 1st thing I ever got to see of my work in TV.’”To which he responded, “How? Can you EVEN REMEMBER THAT?!?!” Yes, it’s an oddly specific memory, and that I even can remember that is, well, it’s an odd thing. I’ve talked a lot to Mac, the B-Camera operator that I worked with for over 5 years about other odd things that I remember, and everything that I remember, or even talk about, or CAN talk about, goes against SO much of what my doctors thought would ever even happen.but to, again, be able to walk or talk or even be alive is the biggest of all of the deals.5. “What Exactly Does A Little Bit At A Time, Day By Day, Mean; Then AND Now?!”Well, obviously, Then meant getting up out of bed, walking anywhere, and doing anything, both creative AND not. But about 2 and a 1/2 years after the accident - yes, a few months INTO the pandemic - I could finally wake up in the morning, look around, and think - or say - “I am here. I’m alive. Time to do (whatever plans I’d had for the day.) And the 1st part of that thought/speech process means exactly what it sounds like. After 2 and a 1/2 years, I could finally remember, on a daily basis, where I actually was. From my 1st memory of waking up in the hospital, to around May of 2020 I’d open my eyes when I woke up, and - -quite literally - not know where I was. Not confused, but not actually know where I was. Be that MPLS, the ex’s childhood bedroom, or my room in the Bay Area. Again, I’d open my eyes, look at the ceiling, glance around for about 1/2 a minute, then finally sit up and realize exactly where I was. Where I’d slept the night before. How I’d woken up. And that I was quite - and still - alive.There were many days when I thought that it was either a dream, or all in my imagination. That I’d died, and this was - somehow - some sort of afterlife. And there were some days that even after I’d figured out where I was, I’d have to get up and see actual people to actually know that this was real life, and I was really alive. And that’s just the beginning of what Little By Little, Day By Day started to mean. Once I’d gotten through that process, I’d start trying to talk more correctly. 3 Rules was applying more and more. I’d have to think to myself, “Are they interested, is this worth it?” Then, and after WAY too long sometimes, I’d have to tell myself to shut up. When I’d 1st started staying with my family, I could barely read. When pandemic hit, I’d try to read more, day by day, but I’d usually get through exactly three paragraphs in a 3 hour period. I’d read one sentence., then I’d have to go back, re-read it to understand it, thorn go back, re-re-read it to see how that related to the previous sentence and/or paragraph, then go BACK, re-re-RE-read it to actually form it, in my mind, as a statement. I started George Orwell’s “1984,” which I’d read completely in high school, and tried to again in 2020, and - as I recall - gotten three pages in in a month. Oh, and I just now wrote the authors name, as it’s amazing what I can remember now.So Now means that when I was still in the Bay, I had to tell myself, day after day, that this was never going to be a quick process. A tiny, little itty bitty bit every day. When I 1st moved back to L.A., about two months into that, I woke up one day, did my exercises, got dressed, then started doing my daily long walk. I got a 1/4 of a block, up to the corner from where I was staying, could barely keep balanced, or even walk correctly, decided to go back to the apartment. Took off my shoes, then laid in bed - which was my air-mattress - for almost exactly another three hours. Just laying there, staring at the ceiling. Not depressed, but not happy. So I realized that I’d have to make my own exercises, in addition to the ones given to me by physical therapy, and make myself more physically able to do ANYTHING, a little bit at a time, day by day. That’s where the Now comes in. I force myself to do a different set of exercises every day. Some with weights, some standing, and some on an exercise mat. Every day, bit by bit. Some days I feel almost, what’s called “normal,” and some days I’m weaker, but that’s another thing that it took forever to understand. That there are good days and not-so-good days, body-wise, for everyone. That’s yet another thing that I’ve had to realize is that everyone’s got, some quite different, some not so, that everyone’s good days and not-so good days.6. “Where Was I?!”It’s kind of obvious, but I was pronounced dead three times in two days. Told I’d never walk again, talk, read, or write correctly again. The word, “normal,” was used too often, as what’s normal? I’ve heard people say to dis-abled people, “You don’t look normal.” And I’ve had enough people say to me, “You don’t look disabled,” to know that many people have no idea what they actually think normal is, or what dis-abled even means. As is too often the point, abnormal or dis-abled refers to anything or anyone that doesn’t look or act exactly like they do…7. “And where am I right now?!”