When I created this blog approximately fifteen years ago, I lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Its "sigzone" part was my contracted version of "signature zone."
I was and am an autograph collector, and my original intention when I founded this blog was to chronicle my "adventures" in the autograph hobby.
As anyone who knows me well will attest, my interests are extremely eclectic, so I never focused solely on autographs. Also, Ann Arbor is as far removed from the entertainment industry as Boise, Idaho. It's an intellectual hub, not Hollywood. I am almost certain that I saw Kirsten Dunst wandering the streets there in 2004, but that moment was an anomaly. Aside from Lucy Liu or Iggy Pop revisiting it occasionally, you're extremely unlikely to see famous people there. My experiences were limited to comic book conventions and minor celebrities. I couldn't focus only on autograph hunting as a subject.
So when I moved to L.A., my mind was blown when I randomly saw people such as Seth Rogen and Donald Sutherland, and when I deliberately set out to meet and met many icons such as Harrison Ford and Samuel L. Jackson.
I met Christopher Dennis during 2010. We were both waiting for Tom Cruise to exit a talk show. I had seen him dressed as Superman on Hollywood Boulevard several times. He made his living there as an impersonator. Also, I had watched a movie in which he was featured ("Confessions of a Super Hero"). Yes, he was wearing his Superman outfit-- I saw him wearing plain clothes just once. When I mentioned the things that I had seen in the movie to him, he lit up and he was affable toward me. Yes, he said, he was a bit bitter about losing a superhero lookalike contest in Illinois because the local residents voted for a local celebrity instead of him. No, he wasn't married to the woman to whom he proposed in the movie anymore because she hated how he managed his finances. Christopher often purchased Superman memorabilia galore (and drugs) instead of paying for the essentials that he needed to survive. I remember that I asked him, "she is a psychologist, right?" "No, she is a psychiatrist. There is a difference." His snobbish tone was amusing. "Oh, really? I majored in psychology. Do you think that maybe I know the difference? I just forgot." Ironically, when I rewatched the movie, I noticed that he was wrong, not I. She was a psychologist. His unfamiliarity with his own ex-wife illustrated a lineament of his character. For years afterward, I wound up waiting many more hours for many celebrities as he stood next to me, so I can affirm that despite his minor celebrity and extroverted nature, he had only superficial relationships with people. Also, although I believe that he was mostly a good guy, like many druggies, he played fast and loose with the truth. My b.s. detector went off several times when he was relating stories about his background to me.
One summer day when Joaquin Phoenix emerged from his green room then signed things as the line that we were in curved around an alley, I got boxed out as I picked my items up from the pavement. Christopher did not allow me to position myself in such a way that Joaquin could sign my "Walk The Line" poster. I was forced to drape it slightly over his shoulder. I believed whatever excuses that he threw at me until Joaquin was actually a few feet away from us and I noticed that his friend had positioned himself to our left to take a picture with him and Joaquin in such a way that I might have slightly obstructed his face if I had positioned myself appropriately. God forbid. When Joaquin walked past me without even glancing at me, Christopher looked at me in a way that indicated that he knew that it was the end of my protracted conversations with him.
Afterward he smiled at me sometimes, but we never spoke a word to each other.
During the last three years I've rarely attempted to get celebrities' autographs because it's usually not worth even attempting it. The Disney-fication of cinema hasn't just affected the quality of movie screenings-- it has ruined movie premieres. Much like L.A. culture in general, whereas common people had great access to things even just five years ago, now Disney and its affiliates (and there are many affiliates) have secured everything behind walls and other structures, and celebrities' security and their publicists allow them to meet only a handful of people at a time. However, I just assumed that Christopher and whoever else I met when I was collecting was making their usual rounds at the usual spots until earlier this year when my friend said that he hadn't seen him in more than three years. "The last time I saw him he looked green. He hasn't kicked the habit." "Well," I said, "we both knew that he was full of shit when he claimed that he stopped using meth." The last time I saw him his skin was leathery and cracked, and he was looking mostly downward. No smile anymore. Defeated.
So when I read recently that he died in a charity clothing bin in Van Nuys with his legs protruding out of it I wasn't surprised. The news caused me to consider that since I moved to L.A. in late 2007 I've been fairly close with far too many people who have died via suicide, drug abuse, murder or a combination thereof. Many people claim that insane people are naturally drawn to L.A. anyway, but let's be clear: this city breaks people. And with its recently skyrocketing rent costs, gas prices and other fees, it's breaking many more people. Christopher claimed to me and in the documentary that he often made $600 daily, and I believe the claim because I saw his vast collection of memorabilia. He needed to live alone here to house that collection and be happy. Most of the people who knew him would claim that although he made a lot of money as Superman even if his rent was $50 monthly he wouldn't make the cut because he would revert to drugs and other vices anyway, but let's also be clear about this point: a reasonable rent price would have given a fighting chance to him as opposed to the standard $1,500 rent for a 500 foot studio apartment in L.A.-- a standard that should strike reasonable people as.... insane. The causes of these increases range from absurd property taxes to severe restrictions on building more apartment complexes-- it's on par with the same misguided policies that were outlined in the "Seattle is Dying" video that I posted on this blog months ago.
The modern socialist climate here is producing a population in which the upper class elites and the lowest classes (who aren't bothered about living in a house with ten to twenty people) are thriving. The middle class is absolutely fucked.
Since 2007, I've seen the transformation myself. During the last few years, I've seen several restaurants shutter their windows within a square mile of where I live-- restaurants that were in operation since the '90s and were located in buildings that have remained vacant due to outrageous rent prices. This place doesn't even pretend that it caters to the common person anymore. And so I will take my leave of this city in a few weeks. Like so many people who have fled away from L.A. and caused its population to decrease during the last couple of years, I have had enough.
RIP, Christopher Dennis. RIP, So Cal's middle class.
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