it's hard not to think about life and death tonight. today. i got a call that my grandmother, Dona Hilda, went into the hospital for a heart attack today. she is very old. and she has not wanted to be here since her husband passed away.
"passed away". that's an interesting term. i think i like it. they are somewhere else. that's what i believe. not gone - just somewhere else.
tonight was about taking my friends out. my friends from out of town. showing them Hollywood.i love doing that. i do.
but tonight, i have other things on my mind. like - what a brief time we have here. even if we are lucky ,and it's 86 years...it does go by quickly.
and the thing is.. it's not fame that matters, or wealth, or impressing anyone...
i took my friends to the Roosevelt. it's swinging pool/Hollywood vibe. that's where we ended up. and, of COURSE - some guy just HAD to say he invented "legal zoom.com".
i mistook it for the other legal thing - where you pay so much a month in case someone sues you...and he corrected me - mentioning (loudly) that he made 130 million dollars last year.
that's the thing about Hollywood. it's the people. why did he have to say that? who the fuck cares???? is he out to BUY a date with some pretty girls? i don't get it.
My grandparents - they were married for so long. they had a second wedding - which i went to. it was so sweet. the same wedding dress - she was so proud to fit into it still - she told everyone....the whole family was there - and....let's face it - No ONE stays married that long anymore!!!! she told me she never slept in a bed without him since they were married. (after his funeral) that's crazy. in a good way. she kept talking about him.
and tonight - well..i don't know what to say. such fleeting bullshit, really. just guys trying to get laid or get a phone number. girls wearing ANYTHING for attention. it seemed kind of sad.
i want the real thing. i think i deserve it. maybe i didn't always deserve it. but i think i do now. i've been paying attention. and what is worth everything is love.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
tonight. (August, 2010)
Tonight I made tortilla soup for my daughter's going away to college party. She asked for it. Which makes me feel really great.
I have been a parent for so damn long. And it's been SOOOO hard. Not because of the kids - not at all. Because of the fathers.
I won't get into all that tonight - but anyone who knows me knows it's true. I t would have been easier if I'd been one of those creatures - like jellyfish - that just sort of separate.
But out of the horrible, nightmare relationships - have come these four stars. They are stars. They are bright and shining and full of energy. And I know how lucky I am.
I know it when they chastise me. "Mom, that wasn't very nice. you don't have to call Izzy's friend's ZOMBIES!"
I know it when I tuck them in, all flopped out on the couch in front of a movie.
I know it when Sophie dies her hair - platinum blonde, or hot pink, or whatever.
I know it when I hear Max's new song - and it sticks in my head - and then i start thinking about the lyrics....
I know it when my impossibly gorgeous Izzy gives me a hug and says "Thank you for the soup,mom." in her soft, kitteny little voice.
I know it when Blue says "What can i do to help?"...and I look around and say , "Are you big enough to take out the trash?" - then see him size up the trash can , nod in a manly fashion and grab the giant bag to haul it out with a proud look on his face.
I am so lucky. I say thank you in a whisper every night.
For these children. And for Zyll - the super bad-ass of cats. And for my house - which i will soon lose. Which WE will soon lose. I am lucky. And tonight's tortilla soup may be the best I have ever made. Don't forget me, Izzy. Don't forget us - out there in the fabulous city that never sleeps. Don't get entirely lost, my sweet, kick-ass darling!!!!!!
xoxoxoxox....Mom.
I have been a parent for so damn long. And it's been SOOOO hard. Not because of the kids - not at all. Because of the fathers.
I won't get into all that tonight - but anyone who knows me knows it's true. I t would have been easier if I'd been one of those creatures - like jellyfish - that just sort of separate.
But out of the horrible, nightmare relationships - have come these four stars. They are stars. They are bright and shining and full of energy. And I know how lucky I am.
I know it when they chastise me. "Mom, that wasn't very nice. you don't have to call Izzy's friend's ZOMBIES!"
I know it when I tuck them in, all flopped out on the couch in front of a movie.
I know it when Sophie dies her hair - platinum blonde, or hot pink, or whatever.
I know it when I hear Max's new song - and it sticks in my head - and then i start thinking about the lyrics....
I know it when my impossibly gorgeous Izzy gives me a hug and says "Thank you for the soup,mom." in her soft, kitteny little voice.
I know it when Blue says "What can i do to help?"...and I look around and say , "Are you big enough to take out the trash?" - then see him size up the trash can , nod in a manly fashion and grab the giant bag to haul it out with a proud look on his face.
I am so lucky. I say thank you in a whisper every night.
For these children. And for Zyll - the super bad-ass of cats. And for my house - which i will soon lose. Which WE will soon lose. I am lucky. And tonight's tortilla soup may be the best I have ever made. Don't forget me, Izzy. Don't forget us - out there in the fabulous city that never sleeps. Don't get entirely lost, my sweet, kick-ass darling!!!!!!
xoxoxoxox....Mom.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
today with Sophie...aka Twinkle toes
My daughter, Sophie is SOOOOO beautiful , and she doesn't even know it. There will be so many things to write about regarding her - but for now - a brief introduction.
She's like that song, "Maria", in 'The Sound of Music'. How do you keep a wave upon the shore?...all that jazz. She's got Marilyn died blonde hair right now - she did it herself - and she looks great. She looks like a model. But not a cheesy model - she looks like a model from 'Nylon' - or something cool like that. She's an artist. I absolutely adore her. So does almost everybody. She's just one of those people who make you feel more special, more alive, cooler, smarter, more enlightened when you are in close proximity to her. When she walks into a room, heads turn, and people want to know who she is. She sparkles and radiates. ask anyone. they'll tell you.
Today, we had lunch with a bunch of hipsters, then bought used books, then ran into Ed at the Pig. the coffee shop down the street. Ed gets her. Ed is worthy. It was pretty darn fun, i must say, showing Sophie off to one of my most talented friends. I know that sounds terrible - but lets be honest - we do show our kids off, don't we?
I have to get some sleep - helping my bro in the morning pack up and move his office - but let me leave you with this. ..Twinkle Toes is something extra-ordinary. We've always known that. And now - she is REALLY coming into her own. I'll have to beat the boys away with a club, I think. The UNWORTHY ones. I will beat them. No stupid boys are allowed to hurt her. That's that.
She's like that song, "Maria", in 'The Sound of Music'. How do you keep a wave upon the shore?...all that jazz. She's got Marilyn died blonde hair right now - she did it herself - and she looks great. She looks like a model. But not a cheesy model - she looks like a model from 'Nylon' - or something cool like that. She's an artist. I absolutely adore her. So does almost everybody. She's just one of those people who make you feel more special, more alive, cooler, smarter, more enlightened when you are in close proximity to her. When she walks into a room, heads turn, and people want to know who she is. She sparkles and radiates. ask anyone. they'll tell you.
Today, we had lunch with a bunch of hipsters, then bought used books, then ran into Ed at the Pig. the coffee shop down the street. Ed gets her. Ed is worthy. It was pretty darn fun, i must say, showing Sophie off to one of my most talented friends. I know that sounds terrible - but lets be honest - we do show our kids off, don't we?
I have to get some sleep - helping my bro in the morning pack up and move his office - but let me leave you with this. ..Twinkle Toes is something extra-ordinary. We've always known that. And now - she is REALLY coming into her own. I'll have to beat the boys away with a club, I think. The UNWORTHY ones. I will beat them. No stupid boys are allowed to hurt her. That's that.
Sambuca!
There's a LOT more to tell about Christopher Earl..but I do love him, and worry about his privacy. I wouldn't do him justice anyway. Not now. Maybe later.
The thing WAS....I WAS clearly told that I had a place to crash for 2 weeks - and 2 weeks only. I HAD to find a job!
If I can find it - I will post my first headshot from that time in NYC - and you will see with your own eyes that I looked like I was 12.
I set out, day after day, newspaper in hand looking for a waitressing job. I combed the Village Voice for everything and anything. I went knocking on doors for nanny positions, I went to open calls and met with agents, i went to EVERY opening at EVERY restaurant ....NO ONE would hire me. It felt like no one would even take me seriously.
There was a place, at that time , that had an ongoing comedy contest. I forget what the place is called - I believe it's still there. A real tourist place. And once a week they had a contest - you could either do a few minutes of stand-up, or you could sing 2 Broadway songs. If you won all 4 weeks of the month - the prize was a thousand dollars. I NEEDED a thousand dollars.
So, I went to this place and checked it out. Some of the singers were very good. Most of the stand up routines were not great or horrible...I watched the show...nursing a coke, trying to avoid my starving- actor-waiter, and an idea popped into my head.
As soon as i could, i found the manager and began asking him questions. Oh - he was soo annoyed. But I was getting close to desperate.
"So, do you HAVE to do one or the other - or could you split it up and do both?", I asked..like a puppy, sort of following him around in circles.
"What are you talking about?" said the manager
"The contest. Could I do a little stand-up AND one song, for instance? Would you allow that?"
He looked at me like i was crazy. "I guess. Why not."
"OK. And the other thing is...are you allowed to wear a costume?"
He looked downright suspicious. "Most people don't."
"May I?" ...dead air. He thought about it. "Wear a costume? Could I wear one - for this contest?"
He looked at me in a different way all of a sudden. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.He was thinking, 'This 12 or 13yr old girl is going to come here in COSTUME. The tourists will LOVE that! doesn't matter HOW bad she is..'
"Sure", he said. "You want to sign up for next week?"
I sure did.
Meanwhile, back at the flat, I was already past the 2 week mark - and had NO money. NONE. I was getting REALLY scared - and i didn't want ANY of those boys to know just how scared I was.I remember this day VERY well.
I put on a cute outfit - I did have a pretty nice coat. Someone had told me to just go into restaurants on the Upper West Side, look as adorable as possible, and fill out applications. So that was my plan. I had ONE subway token left. ONE. And ZERO dollars. Zero change. I knew that I was looking at jumping the turnstile to get home, or walking all the way. I head for the subway station with my little black clutch purse tucked safely under my arm, my head bent down against the light rain, my red patent leather pumps with little red bows on them clicking on the sidewalk.
I remember very clearly that I ducked into a side entrance to the subway - not the front one that I normally used, because i was in a hurry to get out of the rain. I was click, click, clicking my way down the stairs when a body came out of nowhere and threw me up against the wall. I was so shocked and scared. It was a young black man - all i knew at first was that he was VERY strong. He grabbed me again, like a rag doll, and slammed me against the wall of the stairwell over and over again. I was no match for him in strength...and i couldn't understand what he was saying at first. "Gimmy yo walle!" over and over ..."Give me your wallet!"
When I realized what he was saying - there was a break in the repetitive slamming for a second, and I LOST IT.
He had NO idea who he was slamming around that day.
I shoved my little black clutch in his face and freaked OUT on his ass! "You want my WALLET!!!!???" I screamed at the top of my lungs, "that's fucking FUNNY!!! Take my purse, TAKE IT!!!" I screamed - I was PISSED - and he was taken aback. Not what he was expecting. As i screamed at him, I noticed that he was wearing really nice, new sneakers and really cool, brand new looking jeans. I wasn't done. "You want my PURSE!!!????I have ONE subway token left!!! you want that??!!! I have some MAKEUP in here - you want THAT!!!????I don't have a subway token to get HOME tonight! I've been looking for a job for over TWO WEEKS and NO ONE will HIRE ME!!! This is ALL I have!!! no money at home - No more subway tokens!!!I'm FUCKING STARVING!!!You want to take me to lunch???!!! You look like you're doing pretty good!!! How 'bout YOU take ME to LUNCH!!!??"
The guy just started to shake his head and back up. He looked sorry for me, and confused. I was screaming REALLY LOUD.
"You take ME to lunch! Look at your shoes!!! What do you make? Two hundred bucks a day??? Take me to lunch!" I was screaming..he just shook his head and started muttering, "it's ok, lady, It's gonna be ok,"
" LADY!!!", I screamed at him - "I'm just a KID!!!! I'm not even 18! And I don't know what I'm going to DO!!!" he shook his head and backed up to the entrance, slowly - step by step with his palms out as if to guard against me, the 'crazy lady'.
"You buy ME lunch!!! You buy ME lunch!!!", I screamed at him.
My hands were shaking as I picked up the contents of my purse off of the dirty subway stairs. I was replaying the scene in my head. It could have gone VERY badly. I remembered shaking my lipstick at him. I didn't wear much makeup back then, but I LOVED red lipstick. It was my thing. Red lipstick, red pumps. I even had a little red scarf. Silk.
I walked down to the subway platform on VERY shaky legs. There were people sitting there. In easy earshot of the whole scene. AND a subway employee in the booth! I went through the turnstile and they all just looked down at their feet or their papers as if there were something REALLY important down there.
"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???!!!" I yelled at them. "Are you FUCKING SERIOUS!!!???? I could have been KILLED! What if he had a GUN!!!??"
They all looked away. I will never forget the look on the subway-booth person's face. A woman. It was kind of comical, actually. She shrugged and gave this look like, "You, know. Shit happens"
I stood in front of those stupid, heartless people and addressed them as if they were my audience.
"If I had been killed it would have been on YOUR heads! I can't BELIEVE not ONE of you said a DAMN thing - or tried to help me at all!" (I was i fine form - adrenaline was my drug, and it had a mind of it's own, but my theatre training made it all the better) "I could have been your DAUGHTER. or GRANDDAUGHTER. I hope you are ALL REALLY proud of yourselves. Hope you sleep WELL tonight. You are all the BOTTOM of the BARREL!! You DISGUST me!!!"
And with that, I sat down and tried to get myself together. I still needed a job.
When I got out of the subway on the Upper west side, it was raining harder. Of COURSE it was. I went into restaurant after restaurant trying to look 'adorable'(I think that was Kim Husky's advice) - but I just looked like a drowned rat.
By 10pm, I was walking home via Columbus Ave, starving like I'd never been starving before, and so discouraged I felt dispair wrap itself around me like a cloak. I was cold. My feet hurt like crazy.I KNEW I looked like a drowned rat - a 12 yr old drowned rat! I didn't know WHAT I was going to do. I couldn't call my wonderful Grandmother (or so i thought ) I couldn't call my family....I had almost been killed that morning...my whole body ached from the slamming I'd received - and I thought, "there might be bruises showing by now"
And as I was walking down the side walk - the rain had FINALLY stopped- a friendly Italian voice called out to me.
I don't know what he said, but it was a waiter. A cute, Italian waiter. And he seemed so sweet. And the restaurant seemed still jolly at 10 pm, and it looked REALLY warm in there. So, I stopped to fill out an application.
This story, this day...it's one of those stories that defines a person. Well, maybe that's pretentious. Anyway - it's one of the stories I think about the most.
I was ushered into the back of the restaurant - back by the kitchen. Oh....it was so lovely and warm. And it smelled SOOOO good!!! The sweet water that had called out to me brought me bread and olive oil and a glass of red wine. I can't describe to you how much that kindness meant to me at that moment. It felt like there was a beast in my belly, I was so hungry - i had been walking all day in the rain - after a pretty nasty beating by that mugger. The red wine - felt like a magic salve running down my throat, warming me, and calming me. And the bread and olive oil was the most delicious thing I may have ever tasted - the bread was warm and the olive oil perfect.
As soon as I'd managed a piece of bread and a little wine, the owner came and sat down with me. He was a very old Italian man. At least 60. I immediately wished he was my family.He was like a grandfather. A dream grandfather. He took one look at me and called a waiter over in Italian. said something to him, gesturing towards me that i didn't understand, and in a New york minute, there was a plate of pasta in front of me, and cold water, and another glass of red wine.
I might have started crying, I'm not sure. We talked until every last patron was gone. The pasta was so good! He talked to me about his family in italy - and how he came over and started this restaurant - and how it made him miss his home town and his family. He chatted away - asking very few questions of me - obviously sensing my delicate state. He drank a glass of wine with me. He asked the waiter to bring some desert for me - which I wolfed down like a child. it seemed to make him happy. he knew he was saving a soul. A wet rat, very young soul.
And, at the end of the talk, he asked the waiter to bring one more thing. Two glasses of clear liquid were brought. With 3 coffee beans floating in each glass.
The Italian grandfather raised his glass for a toast. "The 3 coffee beans, they mean health, wealth and happiness." he said.
"I wish all for you." ..he looked at me and I felt that he meant it. A total stranger. just the opposite of the stranger that was throwing me around the subway stairs that morning.
I started to tear up.
"NO.No. No cry. Health, wealth and happiness - you shall have!" he said.
I toasted him with such gratitude. the walk home to the Lower East Side would be a dream with some food and wine inside of me. Not to mention some kindness.
"OK." I said, toasting. "And thank you so much. It's been a really bad day."
"NO. NO!!!", he said "Not bad day! you have found a job!"
I looked at him in surprise - too good to be true!
"Yes. A job! Tomorrow you come here at 4."
"Thank you. Thank you so much. So much!" I blithered.
He gave me money for a cab and sent me home to Bruce's place - all loaded up on wine and food and Sambuca.
I still have Sambuca with 3 coffee beans when i miss NY too much. And I always think of him.
The thing WAS....I WAS clearly told that I had a place to crash for 2 weeks - and 2 weeks only. I HAD to find a job!
If I can find it - I will post my first headshot from that time in NYC - and you will see with your own eyes that I looked like I was 12.
I set out, day after day, newspaper in hand looking for a waitressing job. I combed the Village Voice for everything and anything. I went knocking on doors for nanny positions, I went to open calls and met with agents, i went to EVERY opening at EVERY restaurant ....NO ONE would hire me. It felt like no one would even take me seriously.
There was a place, at that time , that had an ongoing comedy contest. I forget what the place is called - I believe it's still there. A real tourist place. And once a week they had a contest - you could either do a few minutes of stand-up, or you could sing 2 Broadway songs. If you won all 4 weeks of the month - the prize was a thousand dollars. I NEEDED a thousand dollars.
So, I went to this place and checked it out. Some of the singers were very good. Most of the stand up routines were not great or horrible...I watched the show...nursing a coke, trying to avoid my starving- actor-waiter, and an idea popped into my head.
As soon as i could, i found the manager and began asking him questions. Oh - he was soo annoyed. But I was getting close to desperate.
"So, do you HAVE to do one or the other - or could you split it up and do both?", I asked..like a puppy, sort of following him around in circles.
"What are you talking about?" said the manager
"The contest. Could I do a little stand-up AND one song, for instance? Would you allow that?"
He looked at me like i was crazy. "I guess. Why not."
"OK. And the other thing is...are you allowed to wear a costume?"
He looked downright suspicious. "Most people don't."
"May I?" ...dead air. He thought about it. "Wear a costume? Could I wear one - for this contest?"
He looked at me in a different way all of a sudden. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.He was thinking, 'This 12 or 13yr old girl is going to come here in COSTUME. The tourists will LOVE that! doesn't matter HOW bad she is..'
"Sure", he said. "You want to sign up for next week?"
I sure did.
Meanwhile, back at the flat, I was already past the 2 week mark - and had NO money. NONE. I was getting REALLY scared - and i didn't want ANY of those boys to know just how scared I was.I remember this day VERY well.
I put on a cute outfit - I did have a pretty nice coat. Someone had told me to just go into restaurants on the Upper West Side, look as adorable as possible, and fill out applications. So that was my plan. I had ONE subway token left. ONE. And ZERO dollars. Zero change. I knew that I was looking at jumping the turnstile to get home, or walking all the way. I head for the subway station with my little black clutch purse tucked safely under my arm, my head bent down against the light rain, my red patent leather pumps with little red bows on them clicking on the sidewalk.
I remember very clearly that I ducked into a side entrance to the subway - not the front one that I normally used, because i was in a hurry to get out of the rain. I was click, click, clicking my way down the stairs when a body came out of nowhere and threw me up against the wall. I was so shocked and scared. It was a young black man - all i knew at first was that he was VERY strong. He grabbed me again, like a rag doll, and slammed me against the wall of the stairwell over and over again. I was no match for him in strength...and i couldn't understand what he was saying at first. "Gimmy yo walle!" over and over ..."Give me your wallet!"
When I realized what he was saying - there was a break in the repetitive slamming for a second, and I LOST IT.
He had NO idea who he was slamming around that day.
I shoved my little black clutch in his face and freaked OUT on his ass! "You want my WALLET!!!!???" I screamed at the top of my lungs, "that's fucking FUNNY!!! Take my purse, TAKE IT!!!" I screamed - I was PISSED - and he was taken aback. Not what he was expecting. As i screamed at him, I noticed that he was wearing really nice, new sneakers and really cool, brand new looking jeans. I wasn't done. "You want my PURSE!!!????I have ONE subway token left!!! you want that??!!! I have some MAKEUP in here - you want THAT!!!????I don't have a subway token to get HOME tonight! I've been looking for a job for over TWO WEEKS and NO ONE will HIRE ME!!! This is ALL I have!!! no money at home - No more subway tokens!!!I'm FUCKING STARVING!!!You want to take me to lunch???!!! You look like you're doing pretty good!!! How 'bout YOU take ME to LUNCH!!!??"
The guy just started to shake his head and back up. He looked sorry for me, and confused. I was screaming REALLY LOUD.
"You take ME to lunch! Look at your shoes!!! What do you make? Two hundred bucks a day??? Take me to lunch!" I was screaming..he just shook his head and started muttering, "it's ok, lady, It's gonna be ok,"
" LADY!!!", I screamed at him - "I'm just a KID!!!! I'm not even 18! And I don't know what I'm going to DO!!!" he shook his head and backed up to the entrance, slowly - step by step with his palms out as if to guard against me, the 'crazy lady'.
"You buy ME lunch!!! You buy ME lunch!!!", I screamed at him.
My hands were shaking as I picked up the contents of my purse off of the dirty subway stairs. I was replaying the scene in my head. It could have gone VERY badly. I remembered shaking my lipstick at him. I didn't wear much makeup back then, but I LOVED red lipstick. It was my thing. Red lipstick, red pumps. I even had a little red scarf. Silk.
I walked down to the subway platform on VERY shaky legs. There were people sitting there. In easy earshot of the whole scene. AND a subway employee in the booth! I went through the turnstile and they all just looked down at their feet or their papers as if there were something REALLY important down there.
"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???!!!" I yelled at them. "Are you FUCKING SERIOUS!!!???? I could have been KILLED! What if he had a GUN!!!??"
They all looked away. I will never forget the look on the subway-booth person's face. A woman. It was kind of comical, actually. She shrugged and gave this look like, "You, know. Shit happens"
I stood in front of those stupid, heartless people and addressed them as if they were my audience.
"If I had been killed it would have been on YOUR heads! I can't BELIEVE not ONE of you said a DAMN thing - or tried to help me at all!" (I was i fine form - adrenaline was my drug, and it had a mind of it's own, but my theatre training made it all the better) "I could have been your DAUGHTER. or GRANDDAUGHTER. I hope you are ALL REALLY proud of yourselves. Hope you sleep WELL tonight. You are all the BOTTOM of the BARREL!! You DISGUST me!!!"
And with that, I sat down and tried to get myself together. I still needed a job.
When I got out of the subway on the Upper west side, it was raining harder. Of COURSE it was. I went into restaurant after restaurant trying to look 'adorable'(I think that was Kim Husky's advice) - but I just looked like a drowned rat.
By 10pm, I was walking home via Columbus Ave, starving like I'd never been starving before, and so discouraged I felt dispair wrap itself around me like a cloak. I was cold. My feet hurt like crazy.I KNEW I looked like a drowned rat - a 12 yr old drowned rat! I didn't know WHAT I was going to do. I couldn't call my wonderful Grandmother (or so i thought ) I couldn't call my family....I had almost been killed that morning...my whole body ached from the slamming I'd received - and I thought, "there might be bruises showing by now"
And as I was walking down the side walk - the rain had FINALLY stopped- a friendly Italian voice called out to me.
I don't know what he said, but it was a waiter. A cute, Italian waiter. And he seemed so sweet. And the restaurant seemed still jolly at 10 pm, and it looked REALLY warm in there. So, I stopped to fill out an application.
This story, this day...it's one of those stories that defines a person. Well, maybe that's pretentious. Anyway - it's one of the stories I think about the most.
I was ushered into the back of the restaurant - back by the kitchen. Oh....it was so lovely and warm. And it smelled SOOOO good!!! The sweet water that had called out to me brought me bread and olive oil and a glass of red wine. I can't describe to you how much that kindness meant to me at that moment. It felt like there was a beast in my belly, I was so hungry - i had been walking all day in the rain - after a pretty nasty beating by that mugger. The red wine - felt like a magic salve running down my throat, warming me, and calming me. And the bread and olive oil was the most delicious thing I may have ever tasted - the bread was warm and the olive oil perfect.
As soon as I'd managed a piece of bread and a little wine, the owner came and sat down with me. He was a very old Italian man. At least 60. I immediately wished he was my family.He was like a grandfather. A dream grandfather. He took one look at me and called a waiter over in Italian. said something to him, gesturing towards me that i didn't understand, and in a New york minute, there was a plate of pasta in front of me, and cold water, and another glass of red wine.
I might have started crying, I'm not sure. We talked until every last patron was gone. The pasta was so good! He talked to me about his family in italy - and how he came over and started this restaurant - and how it made him miss his home town and his family. He chatted away - asking very few questions of me - obviously sensing my delicate state. He drank a glass of wine with me. He asked the waiter to bring some desert for me - which I wolfed down like a child. it seemed to make him happy. he knew he was saving a soul. A wet rat, very young soul.
And, at the end of the talk, he asked the waiter to bring one more thing. Two glasses of clear liquid were brought. With 3 coffee beans floating in each glass.
The Italian grandfather raised his glass for a toast. "The 3 coffee beans, they mean health, wealth and happiness." he said.
"I wish all for you." ..he looked at me and I felt that he meant it. A total stranger. just the opposite of the stranger that was throwing me around the subway stairs that morning.
I started to tear up.
"NO.No. No cry. Health, wealth and happiness - you shall have!" he said.
I toasted him with such gratitude. the walk home to the Lower East Side would be a dream with some food and wine inside of me. Not to mention some kindness.
"OK." I said, toasting. "And thank you so much. It's been a really bad day."
"NO. NO!!!", he said "Not bad day! you have found a job!"
I looked at him in surprise - too good to be true!
"Yes. A job! Tomorrow you come here at 4."
"Thank you. Thank you so much. So much!" I blithered.
He gave me money for a cab and sent me home to Bruce's place - all loaded up on wine and food and Sambuca.
I still have Sambuca with 3 coffee beans when i miss NY too much. And I always think of him.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Mr. Earl on Delancey st.
Christopher Earl.
I really did love him. And i still do. And he's very hard for me to write about, because I know I won't do him justice.
That being said, and MEANT, I give it a little try. A whimper. A hint.
I can hardly think of him without crying. Really think about him. And all the stuff we went through. Not just in these first weeks in NYC, but also before at Interlochen, and later, when Steve Fox flew me to New york for that Broadway show. With Max.
There are only a couple of men (or boys, or men) that I've really put up on a pedestal, and he is one of them. He deserves to be up there.
Chris Earl is sweet as the day is long. He is kind and loyal and self effacing. he has a wicked sense of humor - and I've never heard it at someone else's expense. He MIGHT not be a Saint...but, then again, he MIGHT be. And he is one of the most beautiful creatures God ever put on this planet. Eric, without a doubt, was Prince Charming.....but to me...Chris was far more beautiful.
Chris had a face I couldn't stop looking at. He had - and has - a face like no-one else in the world. I told you about his great big eyes with the longest eyelashes i have ever seen, and his great BIG beautiful lips - which parted into the BIGGEST, HAPPIEST smile - just made you feel like you were with a super awesome, happy kid when he smiled like that. He held nothing back. i thought many times about his mother when I was with him. Only someone with a GREAT mother could be so honest and open and unabashedly full of happiness and love. Especially someone that smart. Chris was and is REALLY smart. Like....REALLY smart. The fucker is probably MENSA. If you haven't heard HIS version of a blog - all these music associated memories - check them out. He tells all these stories to and about the influential music in his life - and it's really great. I shall try to climb out of my tech-tard standing long enough to come back and hook you up with the link later.
Chris Earl and I slept in the same small bed those first weeks of mine in NYC. We talked about anything and everything. We took long walks, and later went out dancing to some of the coolest clubs. Somehow, bruce and eric and Chris KNEW all the coolest clubs. They introduced me to a LOT of really cool music. I can't listen to C and C music factory, or Soul to Soul without thinking of that time - or Phillip Glass - and so much other stuff I'd bore the crap out of you - and you wouldn't recognize it anyway.
We kissed and snuggled and went to Katz's deli for great big pastrami sandwiches and pickles....he showed me where the heroine addicts hung out in Alphabet City (so I could avoid them) , he made me feel safe when we heard gunshots coming from across the street - (that burned out building turned out to be a big drug dealer hang out)....and we did just about everything together - except have sex. We never did. Never.
Later in the year, (I wasn't staying there anymore), Eric and Chris and I were hanging out for New Years Eve. None of us had any money, or anything to do. So we walked around the Lower East Side sort of aimlessly - and ended up watching an apartment building burn down. We had a bottle of cheap bubbly from an all night deli - we popped it and watched the whole scene. The giant flames, the fire trucks...I remember we all had a toast with paper cups and said we would never forget that New Year's Eve.
I looked at beautiful Chris and wondered why the sex thing never happened with us...I assumed it was because I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough. Or maybe he wasn't ready. Or maybe neither of us wanted to risk our friendship. I had him so far up on that pedestal, I was ALMOST afraid of him. Or afraid of his judgement or something. But I do remember looking at him on that New Year's Eve and thinking, "No one will ever be this beautiful.I have missed my chance, and he will end up with someone wonderful, and I'll never know what that would be like." ....a regret for my past and future....
But in those first weeks in NYC, Chris and Bruce and Eric had my back. I knew how lucky I was. And I knew I HAD to find a JOB!!!!
I really did love him. And i still do. And he's very hard for me to write about, because I know I won't do him justice.
That being said, and MEANT, I give it a little try. A whimper. A hint.
I can hardly think of him without crying. Really think about him. And all the stuff we went through. Not just in these first weeks in NYC, but also before at Interlochen, and later, when Steve Fox flew me to New york for that Broadway show. With Max.
There are only a couple of men (or boys, or men) that I've really put up on a pedestal, and he is one of them. He deserves to be up there.
Chris Earl is sweet as the day is long. He is kind and loyal and self effacing. he has a wicked sense of humor - and I've never heard it at someone else's expense. He MIGHT not be a Saint...but, then again, he MIGHT be. And he is one of the most beautiful creatures God ever put on this planet. Eric, without a doubt, was Prince Charming.....but to me...Chris was far more beautiful.
Chris had a face I couldn't stop looking at. He had - and has - a face like no-one else in the world. I told you about his great big eyes with the longest eyelashes i have ever seen, and his great BIG beautiful lips - which parted into the BIGGEST, HAPPIEST smile - just made you feel like you were with a super awesome, happy kid when he smiled like that. He held nothing back. i thought many times about his mother when I was with him. Only someone with a GREAT mother could be so honest and open and unabashedly full of happiness and love. Especially someone that smart. Chris was and is REALLY smart. Like....REALLY smart. The fucker is probably MENSA. If you haven't heard HIS version of a blog - all these music associated memories - check them out. He tells all these stories to and about the influential music in his life - and it's really great. I shall try to climb out of my tech-tard standing long enough to come back and hook you up with the link later.
Chris Earl and I slept in the same small bed those first weeks of mine in NYC. We talked about anything and everything. We took long walks, and later went out dancing to some of the coolest clubs. Somehow, bruce and eric and Chris KNEW all the coolest clubs. They introduced me to a LOT of really cool music. I can't listen to C and C music factory, or Soul to Soul without thinking of that time - or Phillip Glass - and so much other stuff I'd bore the crap out of you - and you wouldn't recognize it anyway.
We kissed and snuggled and went to Katz's deli for great big pastrami sandwiches and pickles....he showed me where the heroine addicts hung out in Alphabet City (so I could avoid them) , he made me feel safe when we heard gunshots coming from across the street - (that burned out building turned out to be a big drug dealer hang out)....and we did just about everything together - except have sex. We never did. Never.
Later in the year, (I wasn't staying there anymore), Eric and Chris and I were hanging out for New Years Eve. None of us had any money, or anything to do. So we walked around the Lower East Side sort of aimlessly - and ended up watching an apartment building burn down. We had a bottle of cheap bubbly from an all night deli - we popped it and watched the whole scene. The giant flames, the fire trucks...I remember we all had a toast with paper cups and said we would never forget that New Year's Eve.
I looked at beautiful Chris and wondered why the sex thing never happened with us...I assumed it was because I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough. Or maybe he wasn't ready. Or maybe neither of us wanted to risk our friendship. I had him so far up on that pedestal, I was ALMOST afraid of him. Or afraid of his judgement or something. But I do remember looking at him on that New Year's Eve and thinking, "No one will ever be this beautiful.I have missed my chance, and he will end up with someone wonderful, and I'll never know what that would be like." ....a regret for my past and future....
But in those first weeks in NYC, Chris and Bruce and Eric had my back. I knew how lucky I was. And I knew I HAD to find a JOB!!!!
getting high in NYC...
As soon as I saw the boys, my terror began to ebb. They all looked just the same as I remembered - I don't know what i thought, that they would have been turned into werewolves or vampires or something by living in the big city for a few months....but, no. Bruce was the same, cute Cali boy, Eric was still prince charming with his big, slow smile, and Chris was still Chris. No horns had sprouted out of their heads, no tails were visible, and they all gave my stinky self a great big hug , and showed me to the shower.
Not long after the shower, we found ourselves all sitting around on the floor of Bruce's apartment, cross legged, and someone brought forth ....THE BONG.
As I looked around my new surroundings, I must tell you, that I was pretty impressed. This WAS a big apartment by NY standards. Even with my complete inexperience, I could feel that. And it WAS cool, too. Exposed brick walls, very open and loft-like - a bit ahead of it's time, I would say.Chris and Eric had fashioned some bunk-bed type of arrangement over against one wall of the open living area, and Bruce (I believe) had his own separate bedroom. with PRIVACY.
To me, it seemed like a real, grown up, New York, boy's lair. And then, this big, glass apparatus appeared out of thin air. I had never seen one, and didn't even know what it was for.The only time I had successfully gotten high before had been at Interlochen. Before rehearsal.
Second semester of my last year at Interlochen, we did 'As You Like It'. I was Rosalind to Stuart Richardson's Orlando.Stuart had given me a tiny kiss on the lips earlier that year, then freaked out and told me he was gay. We've been the best of friends ever since.
Anyway, we were rehearsing a really cool version of 'As You Like It' - true to the play, uncut and in period, but - set outside - with the first half performed in daylight, and the second half lit by torches. Mel Mrochinsky's brilliant idea. Also, we had lots of actors in animal masks that would sneak up and sit by the audience during the show - prompting a few screams of surprize at various random intervals.
And , if you know the play at all - you will know that Rosalind and Orlando have a huge bulk of the lines - many rapid fire dialouges that are almost written as if they are one monolouge split between two actors.
I don't remember who got me high right before that ill fated rehearsal, but I am thinking that it was Barry Fader. (good name for the guy with the pot, yes?)
We went out to the woods, and shared a little joint with 3 or 4 people. And I got SOOOO HIGHHHHHHHHH. It was definitely my first time to feel that way. I had tried to smoke some pot before - but was not successful at inhaling the stuff, so I thought "No big deal. It's either NOT very strong, or maybe it just doesn't work for me"...HA!
I made my way to rehearsal -it was late in the game, so all of our line were meant to be memorized. This day, we were rehearsing inside Grunow theater, with Hilary Aptowitz acting as assistant director. (and thank God she was - she had to take over the whole show days later and whip it into shape while Mel went on a trip somewhere. Probably to get his South Carolina job)
Of COURSE the first thing up was a heavy lifting scene with Orlando (Stuart) and myself! I looked at Stuart, trying to remember my lines desperately, but able ONLY to burst into laughter, and grasp at words or phrases that were so clearly WRONG it sent me into more gales of laughter! I couldn't STOP laughing. I could NOT remember my lines - everything seemed to be morphing around me like a fun house - but a really FUN fun house - not scary at all. It didn't MATTER that I couldn't remember my lines and everyone was staring at me like I'd gone mad! I knew I SHOULD care - but I just couldn't it was all SO FUNNY! Stuart's concerned face was funny, the idea that I could and probably WOULD get kicked out of school right before graduation was funny, it SHOULDN'T be - but it WAS.
Mel called me down from the stage and took me out of earshot from the rest of the students. This was it. I was a goner. I knew it. I deserved it. His face was very stern. But I couldn't stop giggling for the life of me.
"Jennifer", Mel said in his deep, stern voice. "Do you have something you want tell me?"
I just looked up at him and tried REALLY hard not to laugh.
"Did you, perchance, smoke marijuana before today's rehearsal?" (he really spoke like that - said things like "perchance")
I looked up at him and nodded my head as I tried to smother my giggles. Busted.
"Jennifer...." hos voice seemed to grow more stern and deep, "I want you to leave right now. I am VERY disappointed with you. And I don't EVER want you to come to rehearsal or performance in this condition again. Do you understand me?"
I nodded yes. I was trying to look sheepish, but I don't think i managed. It was SOOOO funny!
"Now. Get out of here." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of wrinkly dollars. "Get yourself some ice cream from the Whippy Dip, and when you feel better - WORK ON THOSE LINES. I expect you to know them ALL by tomorrow."
I took the dollars as if in a dream and nodded my head, then got out of there as fast as I could. Ah Lordy!!! That was a close call. What was racing through my head was "I KNOW the lines!!! I DO when I'm not like this!" ...but no matter. I DID get myself some ice cream from the Whippy Dip (our little on-campus snack bar), and eventually I did feel "better",and I did work on my lines, and I have NEVER, EVER showed up for a rehearsal, a performance , or an audition high again. Good advice from Molester Mel.
So....back to NYC, CHris, Bruce, Eric and THE BONG. ( I imagine a GONG sound after you read THE BONG)
They pulled this big glass thing out, and I didn't know what it was. For all I knew - it was for smoking opium! But they all acted so casual about it, and then I recognized the smell of pot filling up the room, and it didn't seem so scary. I was embarrased that I didn't have a clue how to USE it - and I was too embarrased by far to ASK them, so i just passed up my "turn". It didn't matter - I got pretty high just from being in the room. Not crazy laughing high, like before - just a little dreamy and surreal.This is one of the reasons that I mentioned my weight, before. 110 lbs. Didn't take a lot of anything to get me drunk or high.
Those first weeks with the guys, 4 things colored my experience in a major way.
1. the pot haze. It seemed like I was walking around in an art film....just hazy and surreal from all the first and second hand pot smoke. It was great!
2. I was starving ALL the time. I remember being hungry ALL the time that first month.I didn't have any money...and I didn't want to eat Bruce's - or any of their food without contributing something. I was just ALWAYS hungry. Oh , sure - the pot smoking was probably contributing to that - JUST thought of it now, though!!
3. I was constantly aware that I had only 2 weeks to find a job and move out - and it scared the shit out of me more and more every DAY that went by and I DIDN'T find a job...
4. Christopher Earl.
Not long after the shower, we found ourselves all sitting around on the floor of Bruce's apartment, cross legged, and someone brought forth ....THE BONG.
As I looked around my new surroundings, I must tell you, that I was pretty impressed. This WAS a big apartment by NY standards. Even with my complete inexperience, I could feel that. And it WAS cool, too. Exposed brick walls, very open and loft-like - a bit ahead of it's time, I would say.Chris and Eric had fashioned some bunk-bed type of arrangement over against one wall of the open living area, and Bruce (I believe) had his own separate bedroom. with PRIVACY.
To me, it seemed like a real, grown up, New York, boy's lair. And then, this big, glass apparatus appeared out of thin air. I had never seen one, and didn't even know what it was for.The only time I had successfully gotten high before had been at Interlochen. Before rehearsal.
Second semester of my last year at Interlochen, we did 'As You Like It'. I was Rosalind to Stuart Richardson's Orlando.Stuart had given me a tiny kiss on the lips earlier that year, then freaked out and told me he was gay. We've been the best of friends ever since.
Anyway, we were rehearsing a really cool version of 'As You Like It' - true to the play, uncut and in period, but - set outside - with the first half performed in daylight, and the second half lit by torches. Mel Mrochinsky's brilliant idea. Also, we had lots of actors in animal masks that would sneak up and sit by the audience during the show - prompting a few screams of surprize at various random intervals.
And , if you know the play at all - you will know that Rosalind and Orlando have a huge bulk of the lines - many rapid fire dialouges that are almost written as if they are one monolouge split between two actors.
I don't remember who got me high right before that ill fated rehearsal, but I am thinking that it was Barry Fader. (good name for the guy with the pot, yes?)
We went out to the woods, and shared a little joint with 3 or 4 people. And I got SOOOO HIGHHHHHHHHH. It was definitely my first time to feel that way. I had tried to smoke some pot before - but was not successful at inhaling the stuff, so I thought "No big deal. It's either NOT very strong, or maybe it just doesn't work for me"...HA!
I made my way to rehearsal -it was late in the game, so all of our line were meant to be memorized. This day, we were rehearsing inside Grunow theater, with Hilary Aptowitz acting as assistant director. (and thank God she was - she had to take over the whole show days later and whip it into shape while Mel went on a trip somewhere. Probably to get his South Carolina job)
Of COURSE the first thing up was a heavy lifting scene with Orlando (Stuart) and myself! I looked at Stuart, trying to remember my lines desperately, but able ONLY to burst into laughter, and grasp at words or phrases that were so clearly WRONG it sent me into more gales of laughter! I couldn't STOP laughing. I could NOT remember my lines - everything seemed to be morphing around me like a fun house - but a really FUN fun house - not scary at all. It didn't MATTER that I couldn't remember my lines and everyone was staring at me like I'd gone mad! I knew I SHOULD care - but I just couldn't it was all SO FUNNY! Stuart's concerned face was funny, the idea that I could and probably WOULD get kicked out of school right before graduation was funny, it SHOULDN'T be - but it WAS.
Mel called me down from the stage and took me out of earshot from the rest of the students. This was it. I was a goner. I knew it. I deserved it. His face was very stern. But I couldn't stop giggling for the life of me.
"Jennifer", Mel said in his deep, stern voice. "Do you have something you want tell me?"
I just looked up at him and tried REALLY hard not to laugh.
"Did you, perchance, smoke marijuana before today's rehearsal?" (he really spoke like that - said things like "perchance")
I looked up at him and nodded my head as I tried to smother my giggles. Busted.
"Jennifer...." hos voice seemed to grow more stern and deep, "I want you to leave right now. I am VERY disappointed with you. And I don't EVER want you to come to rehearsal or performance in this condition again. Do you understand me?"
I nodded yes. I was trying to look sheepish, but I don't think i managed. It was SOOOO funny!
"Now. Get out of here." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of wrinkly dollars. "Get yourself some ice cream from the Whippy Dip, and when you feel better - WORK ON THOSE LINES. I expect you to know them ALL by tomorrow."
I took the dollars as if in a dream and nodded my head, then got out of there as fast as I could. Ah Lordy!!! That was a close call. What was racing through my head was "I KNOW the lines!!! I DO when I'm not like this!" ...but no matter. I DID get myself some ice cream from the Whippy Dip (our little on-campus snack bar), and eventually I did feel "better",and I did work on my lines, and I have NEVER, EVER showed up for a rehearsal, a performance , or an audition high again. Good advice from Molester Mel.
So....back to NYC, CHris, Bruce, Eric and THE BONG. ( I imagine a GONG sound after you read THE BONG)
They pulled this big glass thing out, and I didn't know what it was. For all I knew - it was for smoking opium! But they all acted so casual about it, and then I recognized the smell of pot filling up the room, and it didn't seem so scary. I was embarrased that I didn't have a clue how to USE it - and I was too embarrased by far to ASK them, so i just passed up my "turn". It didn't matter - I got pretty high just from being in the room. Not crazy laughing high, like before - just a little dreamy and surreal.This is one of the reasons that I mentioned my weight, before. 110 lbs. Didn't take a lot of anything to get me drunk or high.
Those first weeks with the guys, 4 things colored my experience in a major way.
1. the pot haze. It seemed like I was walking around in an art film....just hazy and surreal from all the first and second hand pot smoke. It was great!
2. I was starving ALL the time. I remember being hungry ALL the time that first month.I didn't have any money...and I didn't want to eat Bruce's - or any of their food without contributing something. I was just ALWAYS hungry. Oh , sure - the pot smoking was probably contributing to that - JUST thought of it now, though!!
3. I was constantly aware that I had only 2 weeks to find a job and move out - and it scared the shit out of me more and more every DAY that went by and I DIDN'T find a job...
4. Christopher Earl.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
finally arriving in the City that Never Sleeps.
Arriving in NYC via Greyhound bus is a world away from arriving via plane with one's uber glamorous grandmother.
I blinked awake as we were pulling into a loud, chaotic station. At that time , I didn't know what station it was, or where it was, or anything. My other trips to NY with Mary had exposed me only to the area between the fashion district and the theater district, with one trip to the Village to see 'The Fantastics'. In a cab. Mary NEVER took the subway. She considered it dangerous.
I exited the bus with everyone else pushing and shoving for no good reason, walked through the piss smelling station out into the bright sunshine of Manhattan in Sept. In less than a moment, I had all number of gypsies and hustlers trying to sell me stuff, asking me questions, giving me advice. I clutched Bruce's address tightly in my fist and made my way to what seemed like a legitimate cab.
Bruce Sinor was offering to put me up at his apt. on the lower east side, with the strict understanding that it was for 2 weeks and 2 weeks only.This had been worked out for me by my first big puppy love at Interlochen. Or maybe it was real love...who knows. Anyway - it was Chris Earl who hooked me up. He and our other friend , Eric were sharing a place with Bruce that they described as 'big and cool'.
By the end of my FIRST year at Interlochen, I was head over heels for this guy, Chris Earl. he was a dancer. A ballet dancer. His mother was THE TOP ballet instructor at Interlochen, and Chris and Eric were the 2 best male dancers there by a long shot.Eric looked (and still looks, I believe) like prince charming. No joke. He looked like prince charming, plucked right out a fairy tale. All the girls thought he was dreamy. Well, he was. And he was like the sweetest guy in the world, too. All my suite-mates were dancers, and they all had a crush on him.But my room mate, Michele, turned out to be the best ballerina and was the one that always got paired with dreamy Eric.Which was great - because she looked like a princess.
Well, of course I thought Eric was dreamy and sweet like everybody else - I mean he just WAS - but I never had a crush on him.
I had a crush on his best friend, and the OTHER great dancer - Christopher. Chris was dreamy, too.He had BIG, GIANT eyes, and eyelashes that were so long, they would actually get tangled up sometimes. He had great big McJagger lips, an amazing body (of course) which was often on display (just because of the ballet tights - he didn't walk around naked or anything), and a long neck, and a beautiful flopsy head of hair. And he was super shy.
I spent a good month going to watch my room-mate/best friend, Michele, rehearse for 'Alice and Wonderland' so I could be around Chris and watch him dance. He was so great. But he had a girlfriend. Our timing was not so good.We finally kissed in the forest the last couple weeks of school. He was a year ahead of me - so these were his LAST weeks of school. We wrote romantic letters all summer to each other, and then we got to kiss some more at the beginning of the next year - before he went off to the university of Chicago.There was some great kissing going on. Some of it in his mother's cottage, on her couch. She walked in on us - and i was so embarassed. She was MY ballet teacher as well - and she was so beautiful and graceful and cool.I didn't want her to hate me for the rest of the school year for making out with Chris on her couch!
So...that was our history. We never had sex, or got naked or anything like that. just a lot of making out, and lots of deep conversations. But I really adored him, and now he was taking care of me in the biggest way, by working this arrangement out
with Bruce.
So. Back to the 'legitimate' cab. I give him the address on Delancey Street, and hope he knows where it is.At this point, I have 100 bucks left from my paycheck. By the time we drive in circles for almost an hour to finally arrive at Bruce's apt., I have $20 left. That cabby took me for a RIDE.Keep in mind that this is the early 80's I'm talking about here. $80 was a LOT of money.
I got out of the cab feeling majorly stupid and screwed over. Also, I'm feeling SOOOO grungy, and not loving that this will be Chris' first sight,smell, impression of me, after not seeing me for so long. I take a long look at the big, brick building. It does look kind of cool, but the building across the street is burned out and scary.I took a deep, thirsty swallow, rang the buzzer, and waited for the boys....hoping for their mercy.
I blinked awake as we were pulling into a loud, chaotic station. At that time , I didn't know what station it was, or where it was, or anything. My other trips to NY with Mary had exposed me only to the area between the fashion district and the theater district, with one trip to the Village to see 'The Fantastics'. In a cab. Mary NEVER took the subway. She considered it dangerous.
I exited the bus with everyone else pushing and shoving for no good reason, walked through the piss smelling station out into the bright sunshine of Manhattan in Sept. In less than a moment, I had all number of gypsies and hustlers trying to sell me stuff, asking me questions, giving me advice. I clutched Bruce's address tightly in my fist and made my way to what seemed like a legitimate cab.
Bruce Sinor was offering to put me up at his apt. on the lower east side, with the strict understanding that it was for 2 weeks and 2 weeks only.This had been worked out for me by my first big puppy love at Interlochen. Or maybe it was real love...who knows. Anyway - it was Chris Earl who hooked me up. He and our other friend , Eric were sharing a place with Bruce that they described as 'big and cool'.
By the end of my FIRST year at Interlochen, I was head over heels for this guy, Chris Earl. he was a dancer. A ballet dancer. His mother was THE TOP ballet instructor at Interlochen, and Chris and Eric were the 2 best male dancers there by a long shot.Eric looked (and still looks, I believe) like prince charming. No joke. He looked like prince charming, plucked right out a fairy tale. All the girls thought he was dreamy. Well, he was. And he was like the sweetest guy in the world, too. All my suite-mates were dancers, and they all had a crush on him.But my room mate, Michele, turned out to be the best ballerina and was the one that always got paired with dreamy Eric.Which was great - because she looked like a princess.
Well, of course I thought Eric was dreamy and sweet like everybody else - I mean he just WAS - but I never had a crush on him.
I had a crush on his best friend, and the OTHER great dancer - Christopher. Chris was dreamy, too.He had BIG, GIANT eyes, and eyelashes that were so long, they would actually get tangled up sometimes. He had great big McJagger lips, an amazing body (of course) which was often on display (just because of the ballet tights - he didn't walk around naked or anything), and a long neck, and a beautiful flopsy head of hair. And he was super shy.
I spent a good month going to watch my room-mate/best friend, Michele, rehearse for 'Alice and Wonderland' so I could be around Chris and watch him dance. He was so great. But he had a girlfriend. Our timing was not so good.We finally kissed in the forest the last couple weeks of school. He was a year ahead of me - so these were his LAST weeks of school. We wrote romantic letters all summer to each other, and then we got to kiss some more at the beginning of the next year - before he went off to the university of Chicago.There was some great kissing going on. Some of it in his mother's cottage, on her couch. She walked in on us - and i was so embarassed. She was MY ballet teacher as well - and she was so beautiful and graceful and cool.I didn't want her to hate me for the rest of the school year for making out with Chris on her couch!
So...that was our history. We never had sex, or got naked or anything like that. just a lot of making out, and lots of deep conversations. But I really adored him, and now he was taking care of me in the biggest way, by working this arrangement out
with Bruce.
So. Back to the 'legitimate' cab. I give him the address on Delancey Street, and hope he knows where it is.At this point, I have 100 bucks left from my paycheck. By the time we drive in circles for almost an hour to finally arrive at Bruce's apt., I have $20 left. That cabby took me for a RIDE.Keep in mind that this is the early 80's I'm talking about here. $80 was a LOT of money.
I got out of the cab feeling majorly stupid and screwed over. Also, I'm feeling SOOOO grungy, and not loving that this will be Chris' first sight,smell, impression of me, after not seeing me for so long. I take a long look at the big, brick building. It does look kind of cool, but the building across the street is burned out and scary.I took a deep, thirsty swallow, rang the buzzer, and waited for the boys....hoping for their mercy.
...moving to NYC, part 2
Ok. Well, I guess I'm done feeling sorry for myself and admiring my perfectly polished toenails. Candy apple red. My favorite color for toe nails. And, while the interweb was down, I got almost ALL of the tornado of clothes in my room put away. I'm not quite ready to call my father and explain the recent water heater fiasco, so I may as well hunker down and try to finish this story.
Where was I? Oh yes. Terrified.
Riding the Dog from Austin, TX to my beautiful Manhattan. All by myself, 110 lbs in overalls and white keds, a small suitcase, and a short blonde bob that prompted David Viscoli to call me"Cindy Loo Who" (from the Grinch X-mas special).Convinced that my real family would never speak to me again - I felt more alone than I ever had.
I had kept in touch with my acting teacher from Interlochen. Mel Mrochinsky. He was a great teacher, and I thought of him as something of a father figure.
Mel Mrochinsky was about 6ft,1, a little overweight, bearded, wore lumberjack clothes and very intense eyeglasses - the kind that make people's eyes look a LOT bigger than they are - sort of googly. I don't know how old he was - but at the time, I guessed he was around 40. (very OLD to me)
I really trusted him. He had been very kind and encouraging to me at school. And that summer, he had gone out of his way to write me some very nice and very FLATTERING letters. About my acting.He invited me to break my journey to NYC at his place for a night - he had taken a job in South Carolina, wanted to show me around the school, etc - and I was more than happy to get off the bus for a free meal and a good night's sleep.
Sure enough, he was waiting for me at the bus station with his googly eyes and same old lumber-jack clothes....sure enough, he showed me around the college that he was teaching at - and made a big effort to convince me that i should be going THERE (no way in hell)...sure enough , he took me to dinner at some Waffle house place, and .....you're probably ahead of here...took me back to his little house where he had set up some blankets on the floor at the FOOT OF HIS BED.
The feelings hat started to set in at the site of this arrangement are hard to describe...but words like AKWARD don't come close. I felt sick. And scared. And hurt.
"Ummm...I could just sleep on the couch....I think I'd feel better out there.." I muttered - not looking at him, and turning 5 shades of red.
"Don't be silly, Jennifer", Mel said in his deep old man voice, turning it down to something between a whisper and a purr..."this way we can talk until we fall asleep.Who knows when I'll see you again. We still have a lot to talk about."
"We do? I'm pretty tired, actually..."
"Well, I'll do all the talking, and you just listen. Why don't you hop on into the bathroom and brush your teeth, put you PJ's on.."
' Maybe it would be ok after all? ', I thought as I washed my face and scrambled into some PJ's that were far too warm, but VERY covered up. I REALLY wanted to take a shower - but that would not be happening - the more Mel turned his purring voice on, the more I was getting creeped out.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was HORRIFIED to see my father-like acting teacher in an old white t-shirt that hugged his fat belly and his grey-white
underwear. I didn't know what to do, so I scrambled under the sheets at the foot of his bed and closed my eyes, yawning in an exaggerated manner.
I have to say, I've blocked out some of the details of that night. I just remember Mel leaning over the foot of the bed, purring away at me for what felt like hours...I think he was trying to put me to sleep. But it wasn't working. I was frozen in terror. And things just kept getting worse the more he talked. he said things like.."well, we're both adults now, after all. I've always considered you very mature for your age." ...and "you were always my favorite student..but you knew that, didn't you, Jennifer?"
I outlasted him, and eventually we both dosed off. Him first. But the first thing the next morning, I was awakened by his big sausage hand on my tiny breast. I just about jumped a mile! I do NOT remember what I said - but it was loud - and somehow I got him to take me to the God damned bus station without touching me again.
I was so fucking mad and grossed out! He made a move as if to hug me good bye - but I would have none of that. I think he started apologizing at the bus station - but also telling me that he had had an affair with another girl from Interlochen and that it was perfectly ok, and hat he HOPED I would come into my sexual maturiy in short order, and not end up being a frigid prude. It was SOOOOO important for my ACTING, after all...
I wanted to punch him in the face.
Once again, all 110 lbs of me was utterly alone, curled up into a tight little ball on the Dog....terrified.
Where was I? Oh yes. Terrified.
Riding the Dog from Austin, TX to my beautiful Manhattan. All by myself, 110 lbs in overalls and white keds, a small suitcase, and a short blonde bob that prompted David Viscoli to call me"Cindy Loo Who" (from the Grinch X-mas special).Convinced that my real family would never speak to me again - I felt more alone than I ever had.
I had kept in touch with my acting teacher from Interlochen. Mel Mrochinsky. He was a great teacher, and I thought of him as something of a father figure.
Mel Mrochinsky was about 6ft,1, a little overweight, bearded, wore lumberjack clothes and very intense eyeglasses - the kind that make people's eyes look a LOT bigger than they are - sort of googly. I don't know how old he was - but at the time, I guessed he was around 40. (very OLD to me)
I really trusted him. He had been very kind and encouraging to me at school. And that summer, he had gone out of his way to write me some very nice and very FLATTERING letters. About my acting.He invited me to break my journey to NYC at his place for a night - he had taken a job in South Carolina, wanted to show me around the school, etc - and I was more than happy to get off the bus for a free meal and a good night's sleep.
Sure enough, he was waiting for me at the bus station with his googly eyes and same old lumber-jack clothes....sure enough, he showed me around the college that he was teaching at - and made a big effort to convince me that i should be going THERE (no way in hell)...sure enough , he took me to dinner at some Waffle house place, and .....you're probably ahead of here...took me back to his little house where he had set up some blankets on the floor at the FOOT OF HIS BED.
The feelings hat started to set in at the site of this arrangement are hard to describe...but words like AKWARD don't come close. I felt sick. And scared. And hurt.
"Ummm...I could just sleep on the couch....I think I'd feel better out there.." I muttered - not looking at him, and turning 5 shades of red.
"Don't be silly, Jennifer", Mel said in his deep old man voice, turning it down to something between a whisper and a purr..."this way we can talk until we fall asleep.Who knows when I'll see you again. We still have a lot to talk about."
"We do? I'm pretty tired, actually..."
"Well, I'll do all the talking, and you just listen. Why don't you hop on into the bathroom and brush your teeth, put you PJ's on.."
' Maybe it would be ok after all? ', I thought as I washed my face and scrambled into some PJ's that were far too warm, but VERY covered up. I REALLY wanted to take a shower - but that would not be happening - the more Mel turned his purring voice on, the more I was getting creeped out.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was HORRIFIED to see my father-like acting teacher in an old white t-shirt that hugged his fat belly and his grey-white
underwear. I didn't know what to do, so I scrambled under the sheets at the foot of his bed and closed my eyes, yawning in an exaggerated manner.
I have to say, I've blocked out some of the details of that night. I just remember Mel leaning over the foot of the bed, purring away at me for what felt like hours...I think he was trying to put me to sleep. But it wasn't working. I was frozen in terror. And things just kept getting worse the more he talked. he said things like.."well, we're both adults now, after all. I've always considered you very mature for your age." ...and "you were always my favorite student..but you knew that, didn't you, Jennifer?"
I outlasted him, and eventually we both dosed off. Him first. But the first thing the next morning, I was awakened by his big sausage hand on my tiny breast. I just about jumped a mile! I do NOT remember what I said - but it was loud - and somehow I got him to take me to the God damned bus station without touching me again.
I was so fucking mad and grossed out! He made a move as if to hug me good bye - but I would have none of that. I think he started apologizing at the bus station - but also telling me that he had had an affair with another girl from Interlochen and that it was perfectly ok, and hat he HOPED I would come into my sexual maturiy in short order, and not end up being a frigid prude. It was SOOOOO important for my ACTING, after all...
I wanted to punch him in the face.
Once again, all 110 lbs of me was utterly alone, curled up into a tight little ball on the Dog....terrified.
Moving to NYC...the first time. (the Sambuca story)
The first time I moved to New York City, it was under pretty dire circumstances.
I had just finished spending the craziest summer of my life with my biological mother and her crazy husband and their crazy ass cult in Lockhart, Texas.
By the end of the summer - early September - things were so out of control with them, I ended up staying with David AND his room-mate in their dorm room at U.T.
I had made a little money that summer modeling and doing some little acting jobs, and I sure as hell couldn't stay in their tiny dorm room, squished into David's single bed with him for too long....also - because of my crazy bio-mom - i was convinced that my real family hated me and never wanted to see me again. So I made the decision to move to the big apple and become an actress, or die trying.
I barely had ANY clothes (one of the ONLY times in my life THAT statement can be made) because they had all been left behind at the "ranch" in Lockhart.In fact, I remember having nothing to wear for 2 weeks except a pair of overalls and David's t-shirts....AND his underwear. The poor guy only HAD about 4 t-shirts. He was and is the most minimal human I've ever known. Years later, when I hung out with him in Los Angeles, his apartment was empty except for a beautiful grand piano that I would spend hours lying under while he practiced.
But I digress.I finally got my little paycheck from the J.C. Pennies newspaper shoot that I'd done, and good old Mr. Lambert at the Nau's pharmacy in Austin cashed what would be the first of many checks for me...just because he knew and loved my family, and I bought a Greyhound bus ticket for New York City.
Ahhh....the Dog! The good old Dog. That ticket probably cost me all of $69.00! My kids are all so spoiled they will probably never know the experience of riding cross-country on the Dog. But Uncle B and anyone else who's done it - they know what I'm talking about. The sights, the smells, the broken seats, the crazy people, the people you suspect are LIVING on the Dog - imagining them riding back and forth across the country with no-where to go, taking the occasional whore's bath in the swaying, stinky lavoratory....Nope. There's nothing like the Dog. And this was my third cross- country trip of the summer on that old beast.
The first trip had taken me from Lockhart to Malibu, Jeff Forrester, and magical happiness. The second trip had ripped me away from all of that - out of Oz - and back to a Goddamned horror show in the middle of Texas. I was crossing my fingers and toes and tossing up prayers that this trip on the Dog would take me somewhere wonderful.
I was very, very young. My previous experience with NYC had been going there with my Grandmother, Mary Nash. She took me with her to New York on a buying trip when I was 14 years old. I remember sitting in the cab from La Guardia and getting my first glimpse of the city. I felt like an Alien returning to her home planet!! Angels sang broadway tunes as the clouds parted and golden-silver light burst from the beautiful tall buildings to greet me.
We were driven straight to the Plaza Hotel by a New York cabby with a heavy Italian accent - as if he were cast just for my movie. The uniformed door-man at the plaza opened the big heavy door for my Grandmother and I saying "Welcome to the Plaza,Miss, Madam." and I breezed in wearing the adorable outfit I bought half price from my grandmother's dress store (where I had already been working for a couple of years) and gazed in awe at the Palm Court while Mary checked us in, looking glamorous and fresh in her Chanel suit and white gloves - even after a long plane trip.
That first trip - and every trip with my grandmother - was magical, magical HEAVEN for me. I fell deeply, deeply in love with the Plaza Hotel and the Palm court. I discovered what are still to this DAY my favorite chocolates in the world - at the chocolate shop in the lobby of the Plaza (tiny, delicate champaigne truffles that burst in your mouth like a little, tiny New Year's Eve party), we went to the very best Broadway shows - 'Dreamgirls' (4th row center),'Evita'(3rd row, center), 'the Fantastics'(first row, center), SO many! ...We met Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronan and hung OUT with them backstage - my FIRST TIME in NEW YORK CITY - and my beautiful Grandmother gets us backstage with the greatest American stage actors - and we're all chatting and laughing in their DRESSING ROOM!!!!
Then, my Grandmother does things like take me to the Dorset hotel for late night sandwiches and Brandy Alexanders in a black patent leather booth, surrounded by French business men...OF COURSE I loved New York!!!!
BUT....even at that young, stupid age....I knew that NYC wasn't going to be the same without Mary. I was smart enough to be scared. It had been a terrible summer, and on that long, stinky ride - I was terrified.
I had just finished spending the craziest summer of my life with my biological mother and her crazy husband and their crazy ass cult in Lockhart, Texas.
By the end of the summer - early September - things were so out of control with them, I ended up staying with David AND his room-mate in their dorm room at U.T.
I had made a little money that summer modeling and doing some little acting jobs, and I sure as hell couldn't stay in their tiny dorm room, squished into David's single bed with him for too long....also - because of my crazy bio-mom - i was convinced that my real family hated me and never wanted to see me again. So I made the decision to move to the big apple and become an actress, or die trying.
I barely had ANY clothes (one of the ONLY times in my life THAT statement can be made) because they had all been left behind at the "ranch" in Lockhart.In fact, I remember having nothing to wear for 2 weeks except a pair of overalls and David's t-shirts....AND his underwear. The poor guy only HAD about 4 t-shirts. He was and is the most minimal human I've ever known. Years later, when I hung out with him in Los Angeles, his apartment was empty except for a beautiful grand piano that I would spend hours lying under while he practiced.
But I digress.I finally got my little paycheck from the J.C. Pennies newspaper shoot that I'd done, and good old Mr. Lambert at the Nau's pharmacy in Austin cashed what would be the first of many checks for me...just because he knew and loved my family, and I bought a Greyhound bus ticket for New York City.
Ahhh....the Dog! The good old Dog. That ticket probably cost me all of $69.00! My kids are all so spoiled they will probably never know the experience of riding cross-country on the Dog. But Uncle B and anyone else who's done it - they know what I'm talking about. The sights, the smells, the broken seats, the crazy people, the people you suspect are LIVING on the Dog - imagining them riding back and forth across the country with no-where to go, taking the occasional whore's bath in the swaying, stinky lavoratory....Nope. There's nothing like the Dog. And this was my third cross- country trip of the summer on that old beast.
The first trip had taken me from Lockhart to Malibu, Jeff Forrester, and magical happiness. The second trip had ripped me away from all of that - out of Oz - and back to a Goddamned horror show in the middle of Texas. I was crossing my fingers and toes and tossing up prayers that this trip on the Dog would take me somewhere wonderful.
I was very, very young. My previous experience with NYC had been going there with my Grandmother, Mary Nash. She took me with her to New York on a buying trip when I was 14 years old. I remember sitting in the cab from La Guardia and getting my first glimpse of the city. I felt like an Alien returning to her home planet!! Angels sang broadway tunes as the clouds parted and golden-silver light burst from the beautiful tall buildings to greet me.
We were driven straight to the Plaza Hotel by a New York cabby with a heavy Italian accent - as if he were cast just for my movie. The uniformed door-man at the plaza opened the big heavy door for my Grandmother and I saying "Welcome to the Plaza,Miss, Madam." and I breezed in wearing the adorable outfit I bought half price from my grandmother's dress store (where I had already been working for a couple of years) and gazed in awe at the Palm Court while Mary checked us in, looking glamorous and fresh in her Chanel suit and white gloves - even after a long plane trip.
That first trip - and every trip with my grandmother - was magical, magical HEAVEN for me. I fell deeply, deeply in love with the Plaza Hotel and the Palm court. I discovered what are still to this DAY my favorite chocolates in the world - at the chocolate shop in the lobby of the Plaza (tiny, delicate champaigne truffles that burst in your mouth like a little, tiny New Year's Eve party), we went to the very best Broadway shows - 'Dreamgirls' (4th row center),'Evita'(3rd row, center), 'the Fantastics'(first row, center), SO many! ...We met Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronan and hung OUT with them backstage - my FIRST TIME in NEW YORK CITY - and my beautiful Grandmother gets us backstage with the greatest American stage actors - and we're all chatting and laughing in their DRESSING ROOM!!!!
Then, my Grandmother does things like take me to the Dorset hotel for late night sandwiches and Brandy Alexanders in a black patent leather booth, surrounded by French business men...OF COURSE I loved New York!!!!
BUT....even at that young, stupid age....I knew that NYC wasn't going to be the same without Mary. I was smart enough to be scared. It had been a terrible summer, and on that long, stinky ride - I was terrified.
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