JOHN LARSEN . Hollywood 2008

"Robbe!" John would holler from across the street on the corner of Franklin and Bronson in Hollywood. He would pump his fist and follow this with a lusty "Gree-aaay"." Robbe-Grillet, Celine, Sartre, Rimbaud , Foucault, these were just some of his heroes.

John habited the streets of Hollywood, spending most of his days and nights in and around Gelsons, the Oaks, Birds, Prizzis, the Bourgeois Pig, rarely straying beyond this self-imposed boundary. He loved French literature (even if he was a bit tepid on the French), and theology - a big fan of Kung, Tillich, Barthe, Fox, and our mutual favorite, Jacques Ellul . He could go toe to toe on social economics, engineering, even post-modern theater, but only if pressed.

Towards the end, I would invite him back to my house a few blocks away. He was failing and was too proud or stubborn to accept any help. We got him some narration work in those final years. He had a terrific voice and the spirit to go with it. In December 2008 I left for Canada for Christmas. I gave John some money and asked him to please go to the Veteran's hospital for a check up, and some rest. He did.

When I returned a few weeks later he wasn't in any of his usual locations. Nobody had seen him since the holidays. A week or so later, I was walking down Bronson and saw something that made my heart skip. There were bouquets of flowers on the sidewalk in front of Gelsons where he used to sit and read, and notes and other offerings. Tears blurred my vision as I approached, knowing what the impromptu memorial must have meant.


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