My Incredibly Wonderful, Miserable Life

by Adam Nimoy

  LEONARD: The fact is, I can see now that if it weren’t for the role of Spock coupled with the huge success of the syndication market, a lot of opportunity, in terms of the movies and so forth, might not have come my way. Don’t misunderstand me: When Star Trek and Mission: Impossible were over, I worked very hard at my craft, doing stage work and branching out into photography and other TV fare like In Search of . . . I was driven to succeed and I think Adam has a similar mind-set. But a lot of what happens in Hollywood also has to do with luck and circumstance.

  DICK: With all that in mind, how receptive were you to the idea of Adam switching professions and trying to follow in your directing footsteps?

  LEONARD: I was very supportive. I did have some concerns, because I was very excited when he became a lawyer. But I could also see why he wanted to make the change and I was proud of that fact that he wanted to follow in my footsteps. And it just so happened we were making Star Trek VI at the time and so I brought him on board to learn about the process, and when that project wrapped I suggested he talk to Rick Berman on The Next Generation. And that’s where he got his first directing job.

  ADAM: The whole idea of switching actually started in Jeff Corey’s acting class. Jeff was an old friend of the family. In fact, Dad took over Jeff’s acting classes in the early sixties when the blacklist was over and Jeff started working again. Wasn’t it nineteen sixty-two, Dad?

  LEONARD: I think it was in sixty-three.

  ADAM: And wasn’t that where your students put up a production of Oedipus Rex?

  LEONARD: Yes, it was.

  ADAM: And didn’t I have to leave the theater because I thought I was going to throw up when Milt Cohen came out onstage with blood dripping from his eyes?

  LEONARD: (Smiling) Yes, you did.

  ADAM: Anyway, Jeff was a terrific actor and when I was in between jobs at EMI and Enigma, he invited me to come out to his actor’s workshop. And the very first day I went out there, I was in total shock: There were about fifteen students mostly in their twenties. And the scene work and the monologues were incredible. What really impressed me was how Jeff was able to coax performances out of his students, and that was it—I was hooked. I had goose bumps on my arms during the entire class and that’s when I started to think I was in the wrong profession. I became a student in that class for almost two years, not because I was interested in acting, it was the directing, the way Jeff communicated with the actors that fascinated me. I didn’t dump the law career right away because, as Dad said, I had invested a lot of time and effort into that career, but when it was over at Enigma, I was ready.

  * * *

  “It won’t be long, Dad. I’ll be making movies just like you. It won’t be long. I won’t be in TV very long.” But after eleven television seasons and forty-five episodes, my addictions and my personality and my marital problems all caught up with me and it was over: “They never complain about the work,” my agent would say, “just the attitude.”

  “Yes, Dad, I know you put out a lot of effort and opened a lot of doors for me and I screwed it up. You’re right and I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say?”

  “Yes, all true, but must you accentuate the negative?”

  * * *

  ADAM: Sometimes, I would get so frustrated trying to break through to him, trying to explain that I’m not built like him, that we’re not all so talented or so lucky or so frugal and some of us have to struggle more than others. I mean, it’s like I can’t get him to see the logic and it really gets infuriating sometimes and my rage kicks in and I just want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and yell, “DAD, WHAT PLANET ARE YOU ON?!”

  The thing is, in struggling to follow in Dad’s footsteps, I knew I had the passion for the work, just like Dad, I knew I had it. And Jeff’s acting class and the other filmmaking classes I took taught me the craft. But did I have all that it takes to succeed? “The entertainment business is not a meritocracy,” Dad would say, meaning that success in the business doesn’t rely solely on talent. I now know that people who seem to have lesser skills have passed me by because of circumstance or because they have other talents that I do not possess. But when I look back on my directing experience as a whole I’m happy with what I’ve achieved and thankful for the opportunities given to me.

  LEONARD: I think in the long run, I’ve been very lucky in my work and in the opportunities that have presented themselves to me. I’ve tried to teach Adam as much as I could, and I think he has struggled very hard to get to where he is. He’s in a good place now where he feels passionate about his work, about his teaching, although it might not have been what he wanted or expected in the first place.

  THE BONER KING

  ON TUESDAY, I get an e-mail from Holly. I’ve been seeing her at the Monday night meeting and I still enjoy talking to her even though she dumped me on July 3rd for Steven, the guy she’s now dating. She says she knows we’re “just friends” but wants to know if I’ll go with her to a birthday party on Friday night. Turns out she’s having “issues” with Steven and he’s going to be out of town. The party’s at a house on the beach in Malibu. She says she promises it’ll be “purely plutonic.” She says she just wants to go with a sober buddy. So I write back that I would love to go as long as it’s “plutonic.” I tell her that if it were “platonic,” I would’ve passed because the idea of going without at least the possibility of sex doesn’t really appeal to me. I also tell her I first have to go to an early screening of some short films at the film school but I should be back in time for the party. She writes back with a “Yippee!” and signs off with two xx’s.

  It’s Friday night and I’m wading through traffic trying to get to the screening on time. We’re screening two short films made by the producing class. I’m their directing instructor so it’s important that I be on time, especially because I always lock the door at the beginning of class and stick it to them for being even a minute late. Despite my best efforts, I arrive late and—ha, ha—the students have locked me out of the screening room and when they let me in they stick it to me.

  We get started immediately. Ron, the producing instructor, insists I say a few words and refuses to let me pawn it off on him. I wasn’t prepared for this so I give them the usual bullshit that I happen to totally believe in: about how this is a collaborative art form and that the students are lucky to be able to see the production process from a number of different perspectives. Because good producers also know a lot about writing and directing and you need these skills to be competitive in this business and thank you for letting me be a part of the process. And we watch the movies. And they’re not half bad.

  Afterward, I try to make a quick getaway to Holly and the beach party, but one of the students comes up and says he wants to get some one-on-one instruction from me. I keep thinking he’s saying some “101” instruction, and at first I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. And the dean told him to talk to me, and if I was okay about it, we could work something out through the school. And when I finally figure out what he’s talking about, my mind starts racing. Because I really like this kid but I’m thinking this is going to cost him big-time because I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear a fucking thing I said in class. I mean, I actually really like this kid but I just want to get going and I can’t stop my mind from racing:

  Every time I looked over at you in class, you were looking out the window or at the floor or at your dick. And you never wrote a single thing I said down on paper and it’s no fucking wonder you had reshoots on your movie and when we were in production, you wore your lucky ‘Boner King’ T-shirt that’s laid out in the Burger King logo. And you may be the Boner King but you did not follow your shot list and you looked pretty impotent during the shoot and that is why if you get any personal ‘101’ instruction from me, it’s gonna cost you big-time.

  That is what’s racing through my mind. But my recovery seems to be working because my mouth keeps saying, “Sure thing. Whenever you’re ready. Just let me
know.”

  I finally ditch the Boner King and drive like hell to that party in Malibu. Gotta get there before Holly takes a drink. And she’s there waiting for me in a low-cut blouse and black slacks. And I’m not too late. And she’s so damn pretty that I have to remind myself again that she’s dating someone else and that she hasn’t had much time in sobriety. And the house on the beach is big and expensive. The decor consists of black leather furniture and flat-screen TVs. The guest room looks like a teenage girl used to live there years ago and now she’s in college but nothing in her room has been touched, including the tattered white shag carpet, the collection of little perfumes, and the stuffed animals that sit waiting on her bed. Except there is no teenage daughter who’s in college. Holly explains there’s only her friend the bachelor attorney who bought the place five years ago fully furnished, so the teenage girl’s bedroom is really not his fault. I’m thinking, He’s been here five years and hasn’t touched the teenage daughter’s bedroom, the teenage daughter from another fucking family?

  But I didn’t make a big deal about it because Holly looks so hot tonight. I can feel the heat.

  There are a bunch of youngsters at the party because it’s a birthday party for some guy who’s turning thirty, a guy Holly doesn’t even really know. There’s a looker, a blonde in a halter top and blue jeans, and she keeps looking at me but I can’t figure out if she’s interested or just wondering what a middle-aged man is doing at this party. There are about six servers in black tie, which is a lot of help for a party of maybe twenty-five. And the finger foods are from Costco. And Lawrence, the lawyer who owns this place, looks about as old as me even though he’s ten years younger. I guess the law can do that to you. Holly tells me he’s a recreational coke user. I guess coke and the law can do that to you. As it happens, Lawrence and I went to the same law school, and when I tell him the year I graduated, all he can say is, “My, you are old.”

  The blonde keeps looking me over but I can’t get to her and she’s too young anyway. And Holly’s mind seems to be racing like she needs a drink or a fix, but that’s why I’m here because I’m her only sober friend right now and she wants me there because she wants to be with me and she wants me to keep her sober and she wants me to meet her nonsober friends. After about an hour and a half, I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing here. People are constantly going in and out of the bathroom and I just know there’s blow in there. I can smell it.

  So I go to the bar but there’s no one tending because the bartender’s off in the corner sweet-talking a cute server. I fix myself a soda and lime. Holly comes up and, for some reason, asks if I’d like a water bottle. With my drink in hand, I say sure, and as I watch her walk off with her tight figure to the kitchen, I can’t help but think about what it would be like to take her down. And now I am so fucking frustrated, I am so sexually frustrated because I really want that girl. I want her now. But I have to remind myself again that I’m just here to help her stay sober and to meet her friends and to watch her dance as her body sways and her hips move to the hip-hop beat.

  I meet her friends. Two of them work with her at the agency and one works with Larry at the law office. I meet her friend Rebecca, who’s got a little something going with her blue jeans and cool black leather jacket and black sandals. Rebecca’s nice and we have this great conversation that I really need right about now to keep me at this party where it’s torture to be around Holly and I don’t know anyone else here and there’s nothing to eat and the blonde keeps looking at me but there’s no way to get to her. Rebecca and I sit and talk for almost half an hour while we silently wonder what it would be like to fuck each other. She finally gets up to powder her nose, and I tell Holly I don’t know how much longer I can stay and is she going to be all right without me or should I take her home. She says it’s not a problem, not to worry, that her friends will take care of her. She asks me if I asked Rebecca for her number and I say no, I wanted to ask her first if it was okay, and Holly says that she’s not sure, that it might be hard for her if I did.

  Then she puts her arms around me and holds me in the middle of the party. She holds me close as if we’re all alone. I can feel her perfect body tight against my not-so-perfect body. I’m getting turned on, totally turned on, I just want to jump out of my skin. And I have to focus on breathing to calm myself down and to keep from making a fool of myself.

  Then a stupid thought comes to mind: I start thinking that the Boner King has nothing on me. Because I bet I’m just as horny as he is, even though he’s twenty-something and I’m . . . well, as Lawrence the lawyer says, I’m old. And we’re holding each other tight and moving to the beat, right in the middle of the party, on the dance floor, with people looking on, with Rebecca and the pretty blonde looking on. But I don’t care about them, I just want to hold Holly and pretend she’s mine, pretend that we’re together and that we were in bed all night and that I gave her everything I had.

  The song finally ends.

  “I don’t know, Adam. There’s something about you that gets me, I don’t know, that gets me a little crazy, I guess. I don’t know what it is.”

  “I know. Believe me, I’m feeling the same way. But we have to wait. You need to hold on a little longer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Holly, you really don’t have enough time. And you’re still with Steven anyway and you really should be dealing with your issues with him.”

  Holly nods in agreement as she begins to loosen her hold on me. Without the drink or the drugs I’m feeling so much inside right now that I’m suffocating and have to get out of there.

  “I have to go. Are you sure you’re going to be okay if I leave?”

  “The girls will watch out for me.”

  She walks me to the door. I give her a hug and she lightly kisses me.

  As I walk down the stairs to the boardwalk on the beach, I look back to see her waving and smiling from the balcony. I am so relieved to get the hell out of there and the ocean night air cools me down. And then I start thinking that we’re not so very different, the Boner King and I, that I’m just as impotent because I can’t go home with Rebecca, because I couldn’t get to the pretty blonde, because I can’t be with Holly.

  And when I get back to my car, there’s a forty-seven-dollar parking ticket waiting for me on my windshield.

  BIANCA

  BIANCA WAS A BLIND date. Luckily, she turned out to be pretty. And smart. And we have some things in common: She’s a Hollywood brat like me with some of the attendant issues and she’s divorced with two kids.

  It started on her couch. It was our second date. She invited me over while her kids were at their dad’s place. We were talking and then she kissed me. Then I kissed her back, and then she asked me back, night after night, even if her kids were there. But they didn’t know about me. She was worried it was too soon for me to meet them. I didn’t argue. She’d put them to bed and I’d stand outside her front door waiting. Waiting like I used to do when my dealer wasn’t home yet—waiting outside and jonesing for a fix. No, with much gratitude, I can say I wasn’t a junkie, I wasn’t a pill head, I wasn’t a coke- or crackhead. But I would be jonesing for Mary Jane anyway.

  Yes, Bianca was pretty and smart and easy to be with. And when her ex had the kids, I would sleep at her house and she made it all very comfortable for me: I would wake up next to her in the morning with the sun and the lace curtains and the white sheets. And her.

  And in bed she would ask me trick questions like: “Would you ever tell me how to dress?”

  “Why would I? You have some very pretty things in your closet.”

  “Because this guy I dated once tried to dress me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  And then one night, while we were in each other’s arms: “Have you ever lied to me? Wait, you don’t have to answer that.”

  “Bianca, I have never lied to you,” I said as my eye twitched uncontrollably.

  For my birthday, she took the
time to make me two CDs of her favorite music. It was sweet. I really felt her affection, although in keeping with good form, we never used the L word.

  Back in Carol’s office again. The licensed social worker.

  Me: “She uses phrases like ‘Indeed, I did’ and ‘I suppose.’ ”

  Carol: “With all the things you seem to like about her, those words might be something you can live with.”

  Me: “I suppose.”

  * * *

  Okay, I think I’m in love with Bianca. She’s so nice to look at and she’s well read and has taste and style and it just feels right to be with her. She treats me like I’m something special. Just the way she said good-bye to me yesterday. I held her tight and then watched her go down the stairs and she was just perfect with her petite figure, her long, flowing black hair, and her freckled shoulders. And just before she was out of sight, she turned and smiled. And I was so glad to have waited at the top of the stairs to see her smile. Okay. I think I’m in love with her.

  There’s nothing like lying on the beach holding a girl you’re in love with while feeling the sun and the wind and hearing the ocean’s roar. Looking into those green eyes and stretching your arm out with a camera to take your picture together as though you really are together, as though you’re really an item.

  But that was in August.

  Now it’s September and I think she’s screwing with me. For some reason, I’ve suddenly become low priority on her activity list. The e-mails have stopped coming and the invitations to come-over-at-a-moment’s-notice have stopped. We make plans and then she cancels at the last minute because she has to go to the opera or she forgot she has to watch the Emmy Awards or she has to fly to Vegas. And when she says, “Call me tonight,” and I do, she doesn’t answer her cell phone and doesn’t return my calls. Now I have to pull away and protect myself. It’s been a while since I was dumped: I almost forgot how it feels. Being stood up by Holly on that second date was nothing compared to this.