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“SHE” A Memory of Marilyn by John Gilmore



A Memory of Marilyn by John Gilmore




Born, breast-fed and bred by Hollywood is like being a small tentacle growing out of an omnipotent octopus. We’re sharing Alice in Wonderland’s looking glass—gazing at who we are while what is reflected has a way of commandeering the reality of our lives. Marilyn Monroe and myself, both born in L.A.’s General Hospital (Marilyn in the older unit, torn down to build the Dec monolith, both of us at different times, nursed on the Hollywood turf, and could’ve testified to lives lived different from any other. Here we exist in a glass dome like hothouse bulbs, the outside surface showing only what the industry wants the public to know—that which can spur sales. Inside the dome, we often find that if the mirror is tipped askew there is no reflection at all.  Some say God help us. We’re an isolated…

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About Ian Ayres


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