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A monologue from the screen play by Cheri Lovedog & Robin Whitehouse
All my life, all I ever wanted to be was a rock and roll star. I was this dorky seventh grader from the Valley when I had my first cool experience. My boyfriend, Johnny Miller, had his dad drive us to see Ike and Tina Turner at the Hollywood Bowl.
Oh man… she scared the sh*t out of me! It was the most bad-assed thing I’d ever seen a woman do. Suddenly, the idea of becoming a teacher or a nurse lost its edge. Heh, sorry mom.
The second after I’d got my driver’s license, I grabbed my fake ID, jumped into my Pinto, and headed straight over the hill for Hollywood. I saw the band X at The Whiskey and I fell in love with punk rock.
I left that show knowing I had to have my own band. So I got an electric guitar, learned three chords, and conned some chicks into starting a band with me. That was 20 years ago. Today, and God knows how many bands later, not much has changed.
Not the gigs, not the clubs, not the money. Tonight we made 13.50 each. Not even enough to support my eyeliner habit. And what lucky ladies get to share this glamorous life with me? Let me introduce you to my band.
That’s Faith. Guitar god by night, guitar teacher by day. Oh man, she loves her guitar! I think she only stopped sleeping with it when she started sleeping with Sally. That’s Sally. Let’s see… if Shirley Temple and Keith Moon had a love child, she’d definitely be Sally.
That beautiful mess is Tracy. Lucky for her, she’s a trust fund baby. And a great bass player. Oh.. there’s Jessica. Must be Friday. I’ve spent over twenty years… living breathing f**king sucking eating sleeping dreaming all things rock and roll.
It never occured to me that I might not make it. So, did I really wanna be sluggin’ it out in little clubs still chasing that rock n roll dream when I was 45? 50? How about f***in’ 60? I mean, at what point do I become a joke?
In two days I’ll be 40… and surprise surprise, I ain’t no rock star. I could quit, and become the bitter old b*tch who devoted her whole life to rock and roll and never succeeded… or, I could stick with it and become the bitter old b*tch who refused to give up.
Hm…bitter rock chick in a band…bitter rock chick without a band. Either way, bitter and rock and roll end up together.