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28-Nov-2016 22:07

Click through above and then please, if you’re comfortable, woo us with your own in the comments. Twenty years ago this month a young man’s trajectory to stardom was cut tragically short. and I’m wiped out after a long waitressing shift for the Ahmanson Theater crowd in downtown L. I’m about to turn out the light over the clock radio when my phone rings. His voice is weighted by sadness, urgent with some indecipherable fear. ” “I’ll be right there.” Banging the phone down, I yank on my sweats and grab the glasses I wear when I’m not wearing contact lenses. ” “My dad’s funeral.” On screen is newsreel footage on a VHS tape of his father’s ceremonial funeral in Hong Kong sixteen years earlier. I’m not interested in Bill, who looks a lot like me, blonde, blue-eyed, familiar. To me he’s exotic, fine-boned, hazel-eyed, with dark brows and hair. As the night winds down I’ve given up my Brandon quest. ” He seems to consider the idea for the first time, teasing me a bit.Melissa then saw Spencer walking back to the barn with a shovel in hand.

But also kind of funny, particularly in hindsight and provided it’s not traumatic.

Wren says that Spencer doesn't seem to happy with them moving into the barn, but Melissa tells him that she'll get over it.

Melissa is also seen in a flashback when she and her boyfriend at the time, Ian were in the Hastings home. When Spencer orders a vodka soda, Melissa tells the waitress she's joking. Melissa suggests that they play "High, Low." Wren is confused bit Peter tells him he'll catch on.

” “Baby, I’m a lot more original than James Dean.” Opening his front door with a flourish he says, “Welcome to my humble abode.” Entering his chicly ramshackle, tiny craftsman Silver Lake home is like entering a seductive, Oriental universe. Brandon sashays about the room lighting a studiously haphazard array of candles. “He’s like Jack Kerouac,” says Brandon, working a perhaps over-rehearsed reference. I try to reposition myself, grunting and straining which only manages to further entrench me in a sea of cascading beans. “I’m so sorry about Brandon Lee,” says a co-worker. To receive Bradley-Colleary’s free updates opt-in HERE.

Asian scarves are casually draped over thrift-store lampshades. I’ve never seen a boy move with such grace and flare. “He’ll disappear for days and just when I think he’s dead, that’s when he comes off The Road, hung-over and hungry.” “This house is major chick bait.” “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. “Maybe this’ll help,” says Brandon and he plops right down next to me, catapulting me straight into his arms. For all his hip, I’m-a-cool-eclectic-dude duds and home furnishings he has a surprisingly goofy laugh.

But also kind of funny, particularly in hindsight and provided it’s not traumatic.Wren says that Spencer doesn't seem to happy with them moving into the barn, but Melissa tells him that she'll get over it.Melissa is also seen in a flashback when she and her boyfriend at the time, Ian were in the Hastings home. When Spencer orders a vodka soda, Melissa tells the waitress she's joking. Melissa suggests that they play "High, Low." Wren is confused bit Peter tells him he'll catch on.” “Baby, I’m a lot more original than James Dean.” Opening his front door with a flourish he says, “Welcome to my humble abode.” Entering his chicly ramshackle, tiny craftsman Silver Lake home is like entering a seductive, Oriental universe. Brandon sashays about the room lighting a studiously haphazard array of candles. “He’s like Jack Kerouac,” says Brandon, working a perhaps over-rehearsed reference. I try to reposition myself, grunting and straining which only manages to further entrench me in a sea of cascading beans. “I’m so sorry about Brandon Lee,” says a co-worker. To receive Bradley-Colleary’s free updates opt-in HERE.Asian scarves are casually draped over thrift-store lampshades. I’ve never seen a boy move with such grace and flare. “He’ll disappear for days and just when I think he’s dead, that’s when he comes off The Road, hung-over and hungry.” “This house is major chick bait.” “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. “Maybe this’ll help,” says Brandon and he plops right down next to me, catapulting me straight into his arms. For all his hip, I’m-a-cool-eclectic-dude duds and home furnishings he has a surprisingly goofy laugh. Legendary martial artist and actor Bruce Lee’s charismatic son, Brandon Lee, was carving a name of his own in film when he died tragically on the set of the gothic, comic film is Here. I figure it’s my old college roommate calling after anchoring the eleven o’clock news at KSBW Monterey. I jump in my shoe-skate Honda and pull out of my garage in sixty seconds flat. When I arrive I find Brandon in his bedroom huddled under his heavy duvet. I climb into bed next to him, put my arms around him. In the grainy footage Bruce Lee’s corpse rests in an open casket displayed to all in a throng-filled square that’s a paparazzi/media circus. Brandon’s mom, Linda, wearing short brown hair, maintains a stoic expression behind dark sunglasses until she’s led to the casket and sees her husband. I sit at a table despondently finishing my beer when I feel two hands placed on either of my shoulders. “I guess I am.” “Good,” I say with a confidence I wish I had when it came to auditions. On the day Brandon dies I work the lunch shift at a Santa Monica restaurant called Ocean Avenue Seafood. But when I get home around three o’clock there are twenty-three messages on my answering machine.