Spent an ungodly amount of time just fascinated by it, we did. Investigating with only our eyes the various evidence of mental defect on display in the backyard we'd chanced to see while starting our shoot together.
Tried to get April to go down there, to see up close the signs a hoarder lived in an otherwise gorgeous neighborhood, nestled in the shadow of the Hollywood sign.
She wouldn't do it, for which I cannot at all blame her. I was half-sure that the house's owner would at any moment pop out of a side door, or a window, toss incomprehensible threats our way.
I was also half-convinced that the owner had died months ago, and there was no one to know, no one to check and discover the corpse.
Because that backyard, baby...I've been inside hoarders' homes before, saw my share back when I was driving an ambulance. Wasn't infrequently we'd get a call to pick up somebody who'd become too ill to walk out on their own power, who'd spent their time building pillars of newspapers instead of taking care of themselves.
The level of insanity was always directly proportional to the amount of crap they'd collected. And here April and I were looking at a place so filled to the brim with random items it'd spilled out into the backyard. The pool was three different layers of algae. The sliding glass door, presumably the main entrance to the backyard? Barricaded ON BOTH SIDES.
It's like being in a haunted house. see. You can Feel crazy, when it's strong enough. And this place? This place had crazy coming off it in waves, felt it in bone deep.
Which is to say, I'm going back as. soon. as. possible.