Before I tell my quick story, you might wish to see this photo. I don’t think it justifies all that has happened, but I can almost understand the confusion. (click here for the photo)
This is the story of how I figured out I was really Alexander Skarsgard from HBO’s True Blood, and not Adam Michael Luebke from North Dakota. After all, if enough people think it, it must be as good as true. Even though Skarsgard lives in Stockholm, Sweden, the kind folks of Los Angeles seem to think he resides in their magnificent city (although, True Blood is shot in L.A.) And now, after all this undeserved attention, I’ve been confirming to the curious Angelenos that Skarsgard does, indeed, call L.A. home. The Hollywood area, to be exact.
Ever since I moved to Los Angeles earlier this year, I’ve been accosted by many strange people. Many of them were mistaking me for someone else. I live in the Hollywood area, and every time I left my apartment to get a sandwich or a coffee, somebody yelled something friendly, or something derogatory.
This went on for a few months, and I couldn’t figure out why. Nobody else was getting yelled at. I couldn’t blame this on untreated schizophrenics any longer. The oddest part was that my name is Adam, but it sounded like people were shouting Alexander. “Hey, Alexander!” “Love you, Alexander!” “You suck, Alexander!” That sort of thing. And there was always another couple words I heard, but I could never make them out.
What disturbed me was, How can these strangers almost know my first name? Recently, at a grocery store on Sunset Blvd, a beautiful young woman (L.A. girls love greasy hair) with tall boots and long black curly hair said, “You can go ahead of me, Alexander.” When she smiled, it wasn’t the normal, friendly-citizen smile. Her smile was something primal, and I knew, if I wasn’t careful, this woman was going to eat me. I wouldn’t have minded being eaten by that woman, except I had to get home and work on Parade of Bums (my latest novel-in-progress).
I was too shocked to correct her and say, Adam. My name is Adam. Want to see my driver’s license? I’m from North Dakota, originally, if that makes any difference. I’m obsessed with tiny feminine fingers and I love high cheekbones (sex, cheese, and cheekbones). If that’s what you call Alexander, fine by me.
Instead, I went ahead, paid for my groceries, and hurried along. That same week somebody said something about True Blood. True what? I asked. I said, I don’t watch television. “Sure you don’t, buddy,” the man said. He was older, with ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. We shook hands and he said to keep up the solid work. He gave me his business card, but I never read it. I fed it to a dog tied up to a chair outside of Starbucks (erotic coffee blends).
When I got home I Googled True Blood and Alexander, and the forces of the universe congealed within my own mental microcosm. It dawned on me that I was the Los Angeles Alexander Skarsgard. To be more specific, Eric Northman. The 1000-year-old Viking vampire, or something unsubtle like that.
I read Skarsgard’s IMDB profile, and he seemed like a pretty nice guy. His trademarks: “Cleft chin / “Skarsbrow”, i.e. he habitually lifts his left eyebrow quizzically / Magnetic blue green eyes / Frequently plays very calm restrained individuals, often with positions of authority” (find Skarsgard’s profile here).
I admit, that sounded only partially like me, but if it was good enough for Los Angeles (4 reasons to live in L.A.), it was good enough for me. The next morning I woke up (this was about a week ago) and I said, I am Alexander Skarsgard. Actually, I didn’t say it. The collective consciousness of Los Angeles said it, and I finally heard it.
Now, if somebody at the grocery store says, “True Blood sucks!” I smile and say, “But have you seen my house? I live in a mansion. When I go to the bar alone, I always come home with multiple women” (Nutmeg as aphrodisiac). That shuts them up. And when an overzealous fan says, “Oh my god! I love True Blood, you are so good in True Blood!” I say, “Up yours, buddy!”
Alexander, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
What it’s like to be an Alexander Skarsgard clone (read here)
See the article at Skarsgard News, Another Alexander Skarsgard Loose in Los Angeles (here)
And read the Spanish translation, Otro Alexander Skarsgard suelto en Los Angeles (here)