LuLu~

She could wear the smile of a child you see. She could wear anything at all. She’d sparkle like a street lamp at night, as a warm rain washed the grime from the dirty Hollywood streets.

She was something more, and the world would one day play catch up, and realize it. She was the glitz, the glamour, the bubbles in New Years Eve Champagne.
She was the Jazz, the Gatsby, flapper sex queen. She had, and set the style. She was the top of the pops, celluloid princess.

Even as I look at her today, I see that shine in her eyes, hiding the fighter inside, that never gave a shit what people thought or did. She was what they’d call a tough cookie in back the day. Things were done on her terms, in her own way, that’s just how she would do it. So when it came down to the nuts and bolts of it all, fuck everything else.

From dancing in Kansas, to New York City, with the Ziegfeld Follies, she was off to Hollywood, California’s, Paramount Studios. Yeah, that’s where you end up, if you got a rough start. The kind of crap that kids aren’t allowed to read. The kind of stuff that makes your skin crawl, and hold on to your daughter, a little bit harder when the wind changes direction. “Don’t take candy from strangers kid”, but no one was ever there, to stop him.

She packed up all her shit, and went to Germany. 1929, the world was her oyster… She was international movie stardom, a feeding frenzy, like paparazzi on crack. Opening up Pandora’s Box , with a Diary of a Lost Girl, and Miss Europe taking it all in. She exploded onto the world like a 1, 2, 3 uppercut, not knowing what the hell just hit ya. Yeah, that was it, that was her style.

Now that she had the ball, every fucking ghost, from her twisted dark past, just froze. Froze from those eternal moments of silent shame.Those faceless cocks, with over priced drinks. Faceless John’s with pretty words, flowers and rent. They could now just burn. Karma had a way, of evening up the score like that. Kicking grown ass men, the users, the losers, so many abusers, square in the crotch, in the name of justice.

*(matthew bowers)* ~93
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* “After she retired from acting, she fell upon financial hardship and became a paid escort. For the next two decades, she struggled with alcoholism and suicidal tendencies. Following the rediscovery of her films by cinephiles in the 1950s, a reclusive Brooks began writing articles about her film career; her insightful essays drew considerable acclaim. She published her memoir, Lulu in Hollywood, in 1982. Only three years later, she would die of a heart attack at age 78.”*
Miss Louise Brooks