  so i took this trip to santa monica to hang with beast boy for a few days and take some pics for his musical endeavors and what not...i chilled around the joint, cruised up and down venice beach, sat with the homeless, bought shit from the street vendors, and generally kicked back enjoying a different lifestyle. &nbsp;the night before i flew back home beast boy tells me that we&nbsp;were going over to a friend's house for a jam session...tells me to bring my camera shit and my new djembe drum...hell yeah, we gunna thrown down some vibe!
&nbsp;in the car&nbsp;he tells me that we are on the way&nbsp;to corey feldman's crib, evidently they had become friends while working together on an upcoming cartoon. &nbsp;right on man...redneck georgia boys gets to hang out with some fame-ola... maybe i could steal some toilet paper a shoe or something i could hock on ebay. ( c'mon, you know better than that...i'm not a thief) &nbsp; we arrive, hang out for a while...watch beast boy's dog, timber, dive under water in the pool and make the&nbsp;typical famous people chit chat...the normal stuff.
finally, we go upstairs and begin&nbsp; the jammin...well previously i had taken my camera gear upstairs, which was way too much...i looked like the one man paparazzi with two cameras, a light meter, a big honking flash gun, and my official khaki photo vest...geeze what a nerd. feeling like a total goober in the movie star's personal home i hid my shit behind a chair so it wouldn't be so obvious that i was only there to sneak provocative snapshots for the national enquirer.
&nbsp;so we jam...and jam...some dude on a bass is thumping out some cool lines while a genius is bending his guitar into balloon animals...a real pretty lookin guy with sunglasses is whacking on a drum set as beast boy sings and corey is trying to break his keyboard and sing like he was at a real concert...me, i was banging the shit out of that little goat skinned drum of mine. it was cool...real cool...especially since i don't have a damn bit of musical talent...i was a faking mutherfucker.
&nbsp;corey's home seemed to me like a regular normal suburban home, nothing really fancy...there were plenty of self indulging artifacts from movies, there were pictures on the walls of him on sets, there was a note written by michael jackson in 1998 on a dry erase board...something about an apology for how the way things turned out and an offer of better times for the future...anyway...i admit i was a little thrown off center by the whole thing. i'm not a star chaser but it was cool and i didn't want to be the dick from redneckville whipping out more camera gear than can be found at a victoria's secret fashion show. that is why when it was time to leave i gathered up my shit and headed straight for the door in hopes that corey would not see or remember it...or me.
&nbsp;in my haste...oh, in my haste...i left a flashgun behind. it wasn't a nuclear reactor but it is a few hundred bucks worth of plastic that i damn sure need. beast boy said he would snag it for me and ship it overnight....uh...this was about four weeks ago. &nbsp;i suppose i can't blame anyone but myself. i hate the fact that i most likely will have to buy another flash...and i hate the fact that beast boy can't handle such a seemingly simple retrieval...but the bottom line is that i left the damn thing there.
&nbsp;i have sit, sat, sitted...usually intoxicated, and fantasized about all the ways i could commando my flash back...things like a prank call from someone important, like spongebob...or flying back to LA and breaking in to his house..only to be caught and jailed as a stalker... for christ's sakes guys...can't you just sent me my little 'ol flash back...a couple hundred bucks is alot to me... &nbsp; at some point i may have to let this all go...accept the loss. then again maybe it is not such a loss after all. &nbsp;perhaps by osmosis...or default...or one of those other words that sort of means...automatically...perhaps now i am sort of in a way kinda maybe famous? i mean, do you know anyone personally that has been to corey feldman's house for a jam session? know anyone that can sit around and say things like..."Ah man, remind me to call corey and get my damn shit back.
" &nbsp;this could be my only brush with greatness...this may be my legacy...i may never accomplish anything more. so in some way i can just coast on in...i have reached a pinnacle. i can loosen the necktie of expectation, at last. &nbsp;at the very least i have secured for myself a tale that is sure to be repeated every year at thanksgiving for the rest of my life...in increasing amounts of exaggeration, i'm sure. &nbsp;I can almost hear them now... &nbsp; "There goes the old drunk geezer again telling that lie about the time he was roommates with corey feldman. "... 
