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| Some Ed Wood math. Are my calculations correct? |
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| "Come out and play!" |
I've had similar thoughts while writing these articles about Edward D. Wood, Jr. Sure, I can watch Eddie's movies and read his many books and articles, and I can theorize about what was happening in Ed's life at the time he created them—for instance, how drunk or sober he was. But what do I really know about this man? After all, I was just three years old when he died. I don't drink. I've never been a Marine, a husband, an actor, a novelist, a pornographer, or a film director.
What's more, I've lived my entire life in the Midwest: first Michigan, then Illinois. I've been to New York City a couple of times but never Eddie's hometown of Poughkeepsie. As for the city where Ed lived and worked for the last three decades of his life, I haven't visited Los Angeles since I went there with my parents on a family vacation many decades ago, and I saw the city mainly from the vantage point of an air-conditioned tour bus. (I did get to meet Cesar Romero, though. On Rodeo Drive, no less!) Cross-dressing has never appealed to me, not even for Halloween. All of my teeth are real, except for one in the front.
If I squint, I can just barely make out a few points of similarity between myself and Ed Wood. We're both Caucasian males born in America during the 20th century. I have written professionally and have dealt with editors, deadlines, and meager paychecks. I share Eddie's interest in classic Hollywood films, especially those of the Universal horror variety. Technically, by the standards of my county, I am living just below the poverty line. But I am frugal with what little money I have, so I've never experienced the bleak, paycheck-to-paycheck desperation that was Eddie's constant reality. Plus, Ed Wood had two expensive, bank-account-draining habits—alcoholism and filmmaking—that aren't a part of my life at all. So my existence is vastly different from Ed's. How could I understand this man without ever wearing an angora sweater or drinking rotgut whiskey?
That is why I developed what I call the Ed Wood Experience Project. Think of it as my way of bridging the gap between myself and the director of Glen or Glenda (1953). How would this even work? Well, it's essentially an exercise in live-action role-playing. What I plan to do is create an Ed Wood-inspired short story while playacting as Wood himself. I'll put on a blonde wig and a pink angora sweater, eat some canned spaghetti (a staple of Ed's diet in the 1970s), drink some Imperial whiskey (ditto), and write the entire story on an actual electric typewriter. Disregarding such niceties as logic and continuity, I would just charge forward with all deliberate speed, as if I had to get this story to a publisher as soon as possible.
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| This is just a small percentage of what Ed Wood was creating when he was my age. |
Why this? Why now? I could tell you that this project is my way of marking the 100th anniversary of Ed Wood's birth, which is coming up on October 10 of this year. That's a plausible-enough excuse for such a strange endeavor. The truth, however, is that I'm roughly the same age now that Ed Wood was when he was at his most prolific. In 1972 and '73, Eddie was writing film scripts, short stories, magazine articles, nonfiction books, and novels at a pace I can only describe as superhuman, and he was doing so while in the throes of end-stage alcoholism. What was his secret? Why can't I be that productive and creative? Maybe the answer involves cheap alcohol and expensive sweaters. How do I know unless I try?
Look, this may all seem a trifle gimmicky and silly to you. It seems gimmicky and silly to me, too. But I want to do it anyway, despite all the figurative and literal headaches this project will inevitably cause me. First, there is the matter of assembling all the necessary materials. To wit:
- 1 bottle of Imperial whiskey
- 1 electric typewriter (complete with ribbon)
- 1 angora sweater
- 1 blonde wig (preferably with bangs)
- 1 can of spaghetti
Remember that part in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1971) when Hunter S. Thompson says that getting a car and a tape recorder on a Friday afternoon in Los Angeles will be more difficult than acquiring illegal drugs in that same city? I can relate. Some of the items in my scavenger hunt will be tougher to acquire than others. I live next door to a supermarket, so the spaghetti should be extremely easy to find. The blonde wig, meanwhile, I can get cheap from a site like Wish or Temu. I might even buy one from a nearby Party City, which maintains a year-round costume section. Imperial is not sold in any liquor stores near me (I checked), but it's available from various online retailers for not too much money. I hope I don't get screwed on the shipping.
The typewriter and the sweater—both essential to the project—are the items that worry me the most. There are a few thrift shops near me, and I may get incredibly lucky and find a fluffy pink angora sweater at one of them. But I doubt it. I have a fairly specific idea of the kind of sweater that I want, and I may have to browse online auction sites to find one. Genuine angora sweaters are not cheap, but I am distinctly not willing to settle for any kind of synthetic or imitation angora. It's real or nothing. And the electric typewriter? Boy, I don't know what to tell you on that front. They're definitely obsolete, and even if I found a used one online for a reasonable price, wouldn't the ribbon be dried up by now?
I've not written a word of the proposed story, but I do have a title and a vague story outline in my head. If I decide to go through with the Ed Wood Experience Project, I would probably take a couple of days off from work to complete it and then recover from it. (I have vacation days coming to me, so no worries there.) In total, the items on my shopping list would probably come to a few hundred dollars. If people are willing to donate items to the cause, particularly the typewriter or the sweater, I would be most appreciative. But if I have to purchase the items individually myself, I will. Frankly, I'm hoping that this article will generate some interest in the project. If you have suggestions, advice, or information you'd like to offer, please get in touch. Don't be shy.