DETAILS mag 'mondo hollywood' a chair to my head by josh Charles & the road forward

This is my first blog post and I don't care if it sucks. I generally prefer words of greater merit than suck, however, after long procrastinating out of fear, fear of how I will be received, fear of conjecture, retort, rebuff, rejection - by the way, if we are grammarians, what is jection? After all, re- is a prefix. I digress. 

I find myself 'born again' as it were, following the death of my mother in March of this year. Life comes in anew as the veil of pain yields greater light and acceptance with time. In spite of her eccentricities and near compulsive obsession with purebred cats, cat shows, The International Cat Association (TICA) - think Westminster but cats - I can't over look the fact that, as I supported her and her 'love,' in the role of near life long kennel staff of one, without realizing it, I suppose she did the same for me. My mother never offered much in the form of absolute guidance, it was usually a billowing gesture of, 'yes, go do and be that which you feel.' No matter how nebulous her support, she never detoured me from being who I was or who I thought I wanted to be. She encouraged my creative ambition -- as I write this, quite literally, a cat fight breaks out in a neighboring yard. Hello Treasure of the Sierra Madre (this was my nickname for her). Digressed again. 

DETAILS. The phrase has been butchered, most think it is, "The devil is in the details." It is in fact, "God is in the details." Eloquently stated and originated by German architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886–1969). 

Do you remember the magazine, DETAILS? 

DETAILS magazine had a launch party for its spectacular 'Mondo Hollywood' issue (February 1997) at the now no longer existent epicenter of golden era Hollywood glamour, The Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles' Miracle Mile district. I was the plus one (+1) of my college VBF. She was, as I like to say, ground flooring it in marketing whilst I was doing the same in feature film production, i.e., we were both working our way up from the bottom in our respective industry. At the time of the soiree I was a production assistant on my first studio movie, Paramount Picture's ESCAPE FROM LA. 

My VBF was literally and daily mistaken for being Drew Barrymore (ironic, Drew graced the cover of the Mondo Hollywood issue with Tim Roth) and I was the fat funny friend. No matter, the party was a blast. I was also the one Josh Charles hit in the head with a chair as he was gaining it to his table for a cohort. I'm certain he has no recall of this purely accidental accident, but it left an indelibly humorous memory amidst the very earliest years of my professional life.

There was a swag bag, more press kit than swag in nature. Replete with an actual paper press kit that contained a color copy of a page for the Mondo Hollywood issue. For whatever reason I've held on to my color copy since that night, long since the total demise of The Ambassador Hotel, Details magazine, and my mother herself. What these things have in common I am not really sure. Perhaps like a cat fight they have come together to make noise for their own purpose and prominence yet to be determined.