A few days ago I was reading a story which I found to be really really sad. It was in the news and dealt with the passing of a fairly obscure Hollywood actress who died all alone and her body wasn't discovered for almost a year.
Her name was Yvette Vickers and she was pretty cute in her day. Her first acting role was in Sunset Boulevard and then she did a James Cagney film which flooped and she mostly appeared in a bunch of B Grade films after that. Like Attack of The Fifty Foot Woman and Attack of the Giant Leeches.
She posed for Playboy, back in the days when Playboy only showed the top half of woman's bits. She managed to buy herself a "Hollywood Mansion" and it's there she lived until her death. All alone.
When I was in Hollywood a bunch of years back I wandered off into the back streets away from the walk of fame and all the plastic bits, to check out the old houses and apartment buildings. Most of which are completely run down now, but you could still see they would have been impressive back in the day. Hollywood and it's dream machine has always interested me. How fame is found and lost, I think I'm more drawn to the darker side of the dream and this story is sort of part of that.
As in how does somebody who lived a life like she did, who would have known so many people end up dying all alone and nobody noticed for almost a year. Her body mummified and unrecognisable when somebody finally did poke their head inside her house. I'd love to know her full story. I find it all very sad and a just bit scary. I guess I hope that when I'm old I'll still have enough close friends and family alive to notice when I don't turn up for movie night 2 weeks in a row.