So. I last left off in NYC with a kindly Italian grandfather type giving me food,wine and a job. It was a huge boost. A huge gesture of kindness. It made me feel a little safer, a little warmer.
BUT...it was FAR from being the kind of money i needed to move into an apartment. Even with room mates.
By day, I slept in a little late, snuggling with Chris Earl, and getting more and more frustrated as each day went by that we DIDN'T have sex. I loved him, it seemed like he loved me, and we were kissing and holding each other, and ...that was it. After a while, I started to feel really insecure about the whole situation. I chalked it up to him not being attracted to me - or at least not enough. We still had a great time with Bruce and Eric - listening to music, talking about everything in the world, getting high, going to Katz's deli around the corner...
At the end of the night, Chris and I would climb into his little cubby hole of a bed and he would put his arms around me. When we heard gunshots from the burned out building across the street, he held me , kissed my hair and made me feel safe. Something about that short month (it seemed a lot longer at the time)reminded me of puppies. The way they just romp around all day and fall asleep on top of each other in a pile. We were puppies in this great big city. Just little puppies, keeping each other safe.
The "job" at the Italian restaurant was super fun AND intimidating. I followed one of the waiters around to train - and didn't understand MOST of what he said. Everyone in the place was Italian except for me and the dishwasher. Who spoke only Spanish.In those first days I was there I would make about $10 in tips, and that was it. I was NOT getting any closer to my first rent money.
SO, I went back to the comedy club with my brilliant plan.I put together a Marylin Monroe costume - complete with wig, make up, the whole nine yards. I wasn't sure I could compete with those Broadway bound singers who were belting out a lung, and I had NEVER done stand up comedy - but I figured I had a shot with the tourists who were voting if i could pull off a great costume and do a little of both. So that's what I did.
Gosh, I remember so vividly how scared I was before I went up. I felt more confident about the song - and I started with that. "Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend"...AS Marylin, of course. I flirted with the audience, sat in some old guy's lap, blew kisses...I had Marylin down. They LOVED it. And that energy from the audience - their encouragement and laughter - just propelled me into the stand up bit. I didn't have to do much - and thank goodness. I still think to this day that that was my most terrifying moment.I have such HUGE respect for good stand up comedy people! It's just YOU. YOU wrote this material, YOU are alone up there - there is no director or writer to blame if things go wrong - just a one man show. Or one woman.
I have no idea what I said. I remember saying something about being born in South Africa - that got a laugh, I have no idea why. But the rest is all blanked out.
I won the month. I won a thousand bucks. And that was the money I used to move in with my friend Susanne and her boyfriend. We looked around and the only thing we could afford was a one bedroom (that's right - for 3 people) in Soho that was above a deserted Mexican restaurant with sagging floors.
It was so disgusting. There were mad cockroaches. And mice. And disgusting ,dirty, pea green old carpeting that behaved like jello when you stepped on it. And Su's boyfriend was old and cranky. An out of work actor (aka: waiter), and Su was not a very good friend of mine. She was a dancer from Interlochen who was terribly bulimic which made the bathroom smell like barf all the time. As soon as we all moved in, I started to stay out all night as often as I possibly could.
I missed my cozy puppy lair with Chris and Bruce and Eric to keep me safe. And no matter what crazy adventures I allowed myself to embark upon so that I wouldn't have to go "home" - I still felt safer on the streets than I did in that apartment.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
tonight in Hollywoood/life and death
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.
"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.
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.
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