Four More Monkies Jumpin' on the Bed

Last Sunday morning, I awoke to breakfast in bed. I sat up to eat and Greg sat down at the computer to ask me questions for a 'test' that would match my priority issues with a specific presidential candidate. I had a hard time with many of the things people consider issues. Gay Marriage. Is this really an issue? Aren't people dying in Iraq right now? How about Ketchup vs. Mustard? I'm going to propose an amendment regarding Condiment Orientation.

That evening Greg was in the mood to view a viddy from the viddy store. (I'm in Clockwork Orange all of a sudden...) He picked Sicko and I picked The Lives of Others. Without knowing it we inadvertently selected flicks that argued the values for Socialist ideals and the values against. Fascinating...truly...after Sicko I was so frustrated...and often played the devil's advocate in my head. Michael Moore can be so manipulative...so anti-American...so obvious ...so one-sided...but he does make you think and brings up many good points. And he has every right to say what he wants. I produced my own private Idaho by carefully painting my nails for the last half of the film. Overload.

We took a break, Greg walked Stewart and we popped in the second viddy. The Lives of Others. Please see this movie. The dynamics between these people...even the smallest roles...reminds you that politics, religion...whatever guides us as a mass...comes from somewhere emotional...and that is the beauty of being human. We are pure chiaroscuro in one body. Left brain, right brain. Beauty.

Greg and I met last year while working on a play by Vaclav Havel. A man who was imprisoned for writing a play. Art...the essence of being human.... is power and we should never forget that. We can create change with that. Feelings make people move.

Last night Greg and I went to see Duran Duran on Broadway. 7th row, Baby. I was 13 again (only I could afford much better seats) and when it was over we stood outside the stage door for an hour. As each band member walked out to greet the group, I was absolutely compelled to SCREAM his name.

John was first. I reached over these little old ladies (the ONLY things standing in my way) and grabbed his arm. "Please. John. Take a picture. I just want a picture." He literally looked frightened. Then sort of smiled for Greg who yelled from behind me in the crowd, "Here John!" I love Greg. As John passed I yelled out, "THE NEW ALBUM IS FANTASTIC!" I think I actually heard a record scratch across its grooves and in slow motion saw John turn to me "Of... COURSE... it... is... crazy... woman... and... your... mascara's... running..." The world then froze, I slapped my forehead and mouthed "The new album is fantastic???" like a Cosby kid. My studio audience laughed. The world started spinning again and...

...then Nick came out with his head down focusing on each item set before him to sign. I think about five minutes went by. He was very thorough. Then Simon...

...it wasn't until Simon that I had the mind to shove my program in his face like all the other trick-or-treaters around me. Hello McFly.

Each band member had come out prepaired with an open Sharpie and made his way through the crowd. Every fan had a something in his/her hand attached to his/her stretched out arm around me but I literally could not think straight until Simon.

I turn to Greg. "Program. Please." I shove it at Simon. He looks at me and does nothing. I say, "Please?! Please?!" He signs. Then teases the old ladies below me. I'd forgotten they were there. I hope their bruises heal...

...then Roger. Poor Roger. I walked away after Simon feeling sorry for the women behind me who didn't get to grope John like I did. I let them have Roger...

...then Andy. Wait....no more Andy. Last time I saw him play with the band he looked like they had dug him up, stuck a guitar in his hand and a smoke under his wig. I thought maybe Keith Richards was moonlighting as a hobby. Only four Duran's left these days.

I am a grown woman. Sometimes I even act like and look like one. And during that concert I couldn't NOT scream out every lyric I knew. I couldn't NOT scream out when I saw the stage door crack open. I was shaking for 20 minutes after Greg and I walked away.

I do not love Duran Duran anymore for their music. I love how they make me feel. I like the new album a lot but I don't think it is revolutionary. They never have been. Well, when it comes to white shoes and eyeliner, yes, but I, personally, do not think one of them will get shot conspiratorially. However...

...last night, I FELT something intangible. And I was inspired, moved...literally, uncontrollably. I can still feel. And I can only hope that one day, in a small way, I make someone feel enough to make some sort of movement...even if it is away from me and my desperate, groping hand gripping his arm while barely coherently screaming at him to pose for a picture.

A real live Haunting.

To this day, my parents tease me about what they say was an obsession with my dentist. What I still argue is that it wasn't an obsession, it was a sort of coincidental, cooperative, subconscious, chaos-theory, co-stalking. I didn't go around fantasizing about my dentist. I didn't even think of him until I would run into him. Since I was nine and couldn't drive, I don't think I was the one causing the serendipity and being that he was a full grown man and always had his clothes on I don't think he was pulling a Lolita. I truly think it was just some weird coincidence and for some reason I was the one who caught a glimpse of him driving by when we went out for pizza or picked up the dry cleaning. I even recall seeing him and his family at a grocery store and I made my parents stop and say hello. I had proof.

It didn't help my case much that I constantly carried around an updated list of all of the dates, times and colors of Volkswagon Bugs I'd seen...in my entire life. My parents had to have an intervention to get me to stop keeping track of them.

This Rainman twitch of mine started around the time my folks got divorced. If I could keep track of ...well...everything....then I could keep a tight ship on my own emotions??? I was nine. Not sure why I was doing what I was doing. The tight-ship theory sounds good now.

Today...I have a new subconscious stalkee/stalker and it is starting to really freak me out.

About ten years ago, I was living in Los Angeles and working at a little theater in Pasadena. I met this woman at a cast party and introduced myself to her...for the second time...asshole.... (I still don't remember her name...) All I remember, is this woman HATES me. Really. She rolled her eyes at every bit of small-talk I tried to force down her throat. And the 'charming' me just wasn't doing it. She could see right through me and seemed to despise what she saw. I would see her around the theater and we would politely avoid each other. Every once in a while at a party I would try to engage her in talk about the weather and...nothing...

I forgot about her...again...(I still don't know her name...), moved to New York City and lo and behold...one day, before 9/11, I'd been here all of six months, I see her on the street!

Holy Cow.

"Hello! I'm so sorry...I've forgotten your name again, I'm Jennifer, I....well...this is crazy...do you live here? I live here! Crazy! You worked in Pasadena right? The Knightsbridge? Do you remember? You live here?! Crazy!"

I honestly don't recall her saying anything in return.

We walked away after about 40 seconds.

I have NEVER seen her look any different than she does when I see her. She always has the same hair cut, hair color and same look on her face. I don't recall having ever seen her smile.

Inevitably after I run into her for the first time in NYC, I see her about six months later...different part of town...I wave as she walks towards me. She walks right on by.

Then I see her again in Soho.

Again in NEW JERSEY.

Again at Columbus Circle.

A year later, I sit down across from her on the train. And that seems to happen at least every couple of months or so until I just take it for granted. Even though I've stopped acknowledging her, I am usually shaken for at least a day after I see her. What does it mean?

It is Just. Too. Weird.

It doesn't stop there....one day a few years back in Harlem, I open the front door of my apartment. My 'neighbor' across the hall opens hers. Guess who it is? NO JOKE.

"NO WAY! Come On! You have to see this! This is too weird!! Come ON!"

She rolls her eyes and shuts her door.

I have actually thought at times maybe she doesn't exist. Maybe she is a figment of my imagination. My alter ego. She represents the side of me who hates what I stand for...or don't...who hates where I am in my life...or am not...the little voice in my head who almost always talks at me, not to me...and is almost always shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Maybe I have some sort of external schizophrenia and I am projecting her on strangers' faces.

Over a year and a half ago, I got my dog Stewart. I was living in Inwood and taking him outside for the very first time. My friend Lisa was with me. It was around nine o'clock at night, it was dark and we were in a very quiet, secluded area on a side street with a little patch of grass left. It was January.

"Do your business...do your business Puppy. Puppy-head, little puppy...do your business....OH MY GOD..."

This woman goes walking by. I point her out to Lisa and tell the story. At this point I can still list the 20 or so times I've run into her. Lisa gets it and freaks as much as I do. This woman HAS to live up in this neighborhood now. No one just goes walking around up here and she looked like she was coming home from work. Sure enough, I start seeing her on the train again.

Since that night I've seen her about eight or nine more times and I am usually with my brother or Greg. I point her out and make phone calls to friends who know the story. I have even seen her walking around Chelsea with a couple who looked like her parents.

But wait...there's more!

About a two weeks ago, I sadly dropped out of a play in order to focus on other things. I'm still close with the gals producing the show and plan to go support it. I offered to help with costumes or pitch in, in other ways. This morning I got an email from the Playwright and included is a cast photo.

Guess who is on the far left? It isn't my dentist.

Blog for the Environment

I signed up for Blog Action Day. http://blogactionday.org/ You sign up, post a blog about the environment and I believe the goal is to inspire people into thinking about change.

Today is the day.

I thought this was a great idea, but right now as I'm writing this, sitting behind my desk, drinking my coffee out of a paper cup... I feel like this Blog thing, while creative and thoughtful...what is the 'action'?

What can one little 'ol voice do unless it activates masses to do something?

So, I'm going to ask anyone who reads this to do something for the environment. We don't have to do it together. We don't have to hold anyone except ourselves accountable. No one but you will know you chose a little responsibility.

Responsibility: Just because we pay for things, like land, does that mean we can do whatever we want with it? Didn't we invent money? What does money mean to the trees, bees and squirrels? Does a rose bush planted on Fifth avenue know it is more valuable than one planted in Queens? We decide what is 'valuable' or not. We also decide what we are responsible for or not. And many many many of us decide it is not convenient to be responsible with our environment...that it is someone else's job. What if we decide it is our job? Even in a small way?

Below is a list of small, simple things you can do to help the environment. Pick one thing or do your own. Commit to it like when you give up french fries for Lent or when you decide to start flossing again...

1. Don't use a paper coffee cup. Even when purchasing Starbucks or Dunkin' or neighborhood deli. We ALL have mugs and if you don't, buy one.

2. Don't use plastic grocery bags.

3. Turn off your computer at night.

4. Take a 5 minute shower or a long bath.

5. Turn off lights when you aren't in a room.

6. Use rechargeable batteries.

7. Recycle greeting cards or send ecards. For reals. Get creative.

http://gogreeninitiative.org/

http://www.changingthepresent.org/environment/?gclid=CKqUq-6SkY8CFSasGgodzneefg

http://www.panda.org/how_you_can_help/at_home/

I dare ya.

On the A (Part 3)

B: Yo' that be nasty.

A: Yeah. I was right there.

B: Me too!

A: Yeah. Right there. Right by him.

B: Me too!

A: Nah, you was way in the back. I didn't see you after.

B: We ran!

A: So you wasn't there! I's there. Right there man.

B: I's there when it went off. And, we ran.

A: I was right there. (A stands and poses. T is watching intently, clearly bothered.) I was standing here and Zig was right here...(A gestures to a position in front of him and to the right.) ... right here. Here. And I was right here. We were about to go off and I see Zig reach and then BAM! Right there.

B: Yo' and Angela be screamin'.

G1: Shit. Awful.

B: She be screamin' and cryin'. Yeah. We ran.

A: I was right there. Terrible. I've taken but right there.

B: (Laughing.) You wet yo' pants?

A: (Laughing.) Shit! No! Wet my pants. I been there befo'. But man, right there!

G2: (Laughing.) He said did he wet his pants!

G1: (Laughing.) He wouldn't wet no pants! He be out there. He's there! T was there!

T: (Not laughing.) Yeah, I was there.

B: T was peein'!

A: Ah! He said peein

B: T peein'!

G1: T's not peein'!

A: T peein! Yeah! (See's T's face.) Nah. Nah. Nah. T's there. He was. That shit was rough. T's there.

G1: T was there! T's got it. He had since he was little!

T: I was there.

G1: T has it! Always had it. T has it!

A: (Laughing.) You did! You's a little champ! (A slaps T's arm. Trys to get him to laugh. T never does.) You always! Little T. Runnin' around. Little T. You's a little champ! A champ. Nah. Nah. I'm kiddin'. You was though! You was!

G1: Little Champ! That's T! He is! Always is!

A: T is!

B: T's a champ.

A: T is!

B: He is. Nah nah. Always is.

G1: T. You a champ.

(Slight pause.)

A: Yo'. Zig man. That be messed up. I was cryin' an' shit. I cried. (To B.) You cry?

(B shakes his head no. Stares straight ahead.)

A: I be cryin'. Right there man. Right there. (To T.) You cry T?

(T doesn't answer. Stares down at his hands. A shoves him.)

A: You cry?

(Slight pause.)

T: (Does not look at A.) Yeah. Yeah. I cried.

A: Me too. Man. Sick.

(The train slows down to the 34th Street stop. A, B and T get up. They all ad-lib with each other quietly. B goes over to A. She smiles and looks up at him. He looks down at her with pure love. He's a puppy. He goes down to kiss her. A, talking with T, notices.)

A: Yeah. Lovey Lovey. Say goodbye Lovey Lovey.

B: (Quietly to G1.) I'll see you later a'ight?

G1: Later. Bye. (Looks at A.) Bye! (Looks at T.) Bye T! You be the man T! You always be! You be the man!

G2: Bye! Bye T! Bye!

G1: Bye!

A: Later.

B: Yeah.

T: Bye.

(The guys and T exit. The train doors close. The girls look at each other and smile.)

G1: Damn, he be sayin' he gettin' off at 59 but they stay.

G2: They stay! Awww. He say!

G1: Yeah!

(They giggle and quiet down. They stare straight ahead in silence until the train stops at 14th Street. They both get up to leave.)

G1: Do you call Monica?

G2: Nah.

G1: She don't know? You be tellin'.....

(They ad-lib until they exit the train. There is no other conversation on the subway car. All of the passengers are aware of the newly uncomfortable silence.)

(Lights out.)

This was last Sunday night on my way back from visiting my friend in the hospital. I was the 'Woman Eating'.

On the A (Part 2)

A: There you go ladies and gentlemen. That's magic ain't it? Ain't he? Now put your hands together for me. (B steps aside and A does a front flip landing on his back and instantly begins to spin. He break dances while the group claps in the same rhythm.)

G2: He's spinnin' T! He's spinnin'! You do that?

T: Yeah.

G2: You do that T? You do that?

T: Yeah. Yeah. Before I was two. (Laughs.)

G1: Ahhhh... he said before he was two! (To G2.) You gettin' off wit' me? You commin' with me?

G2: Yeah girl. I'm gettin' Monica's bracelette she left at yo' crib. You knew that. Thinkin' 'bout nothing but yo'self. Girl.

T: (Stands.) I'm up.

G1: (Yelling.) Go T! Go T!

T: Me.

B: Yo'. It's T's. He up.

T: Yo', it's me up dude.

(A has already stopped and is walking up and down the aisle asking for money. T and B do a little dance together, then B steps out. The group clapping becomes faster and louder. They cheer for T. He is extremely good, but in the end stumbles a bit. He pops up and as A walks by with two dollar bills T grabs them out of A's hand. The group stops clapping.)

A: Hey, that's...what...give it...

T: Nah, nah, nah. You owe me. You owe me! It's mine. You owe me!

A: He done snatched that two dollars out. He done took it. (Laughing.) I'm hungry. Man. (To B, laughing.) He done snatched it! Snatched it!

T: (To A and B.) It's mine! You owe! It's mine! (To G1.) Don't he? That's mine! He owes!

G1: I don't know. Shit.

G2: Shit. Little T. Shit.

(Silence. T pockets the dollars and takes a seat. A and B sit near him. There is no dialogue but A and B are whispering and giggling - not about T.)

A: (To G1. Smile.) Where y'all goin'?

G1: (Smiles back.) Shit. I told you, we's goin' to 14th. Y'all getting off at (In sinc with A.) ...34th.

A: (In sinc with G1, still smiling at her.) ...34th.

B: We goin' to three fo'? Yeah. Dat's right. Dat's right. We doin' three fo'.

(Slight pause.)

A: (To B.) Yo'! You be there when Ziggy got popped?

T: I be there.

A: (To B.) You be there?

T: I was.

G1: T was there.

G2: T you be there?

T: Yeah.

To be continued...

On the A (Part 1)

(Lights up.)

(Semi-crowded NYC subway car. A group of attractive, fashionably dressed, black teenagers enter the train at the 125th Street stop. 2 guys, 2 girls and one very confident and grounded, young boy: "T". They enter laughing loudly, pushing and shoving each other. The boy is carrying a small can of Sour Cream & Onion Pringles Chips. They fight each other to find a seat. They configure a cluster of themselves in seats nearest the doors after passengers move to accommodate them. They speak to one another as if they are the only people on the train. They do not acknowledge anyone outside of their circle unless they are directly speaking to that person. When they do, they are overly polite. They do not represent any kind of hostility. All of them appear extremely happy and content. All dialogue and action is very loud, very fast and often one person is speaking over another. A directorial choice might be for each line to be said twice. Loud, fast and quick.)

Guy A: Yo' T. Gimme one a those. Gimme another. Gimme.

Guy B: You see that?

Girl 1: (Carrying a Louis Vuitton purse in the crook of her arm.) Why we bein' on this one? This one? Why we bein' on this one?

Girl 2: Hey T. Chip.

T: Step off. (A grabs a chip out of the can.) Yo' I said step off. (He gives G2 a chip.)

B: (Taking T's arm and a chip out of the can.) You see dat? He be trippin'! All hangin' out and shit' . Trippin'!

A: I know, I know, I know. I seen him yo'. He be all like... (A gesture.) ...and I was all like...(A gesture.) ...and you know?...what the fuck? You know what I mean? You know man? What the fuck?? Hilarious! He be trippin'!

B: You doin' this?

A: Hilarious! Trippin'!

G1: (To G2.) Why we bein' here? I gotta go. (Gestures to A.) He's gonna ride down but we gotta go.

B: (To A.) Yo'. (Takes another chip. T moves to a seat across the way.)

Girl 2: T. Chip. (She crosses, grabs a chip and sits again.)

A: (Spotting a Woman Eating.) Can I have a piece? Just kidding. (A gives Woman Eating a long, charming smile. She is affected.)

B: Yo. (Slight pause.) You got this?

A: Yeah. Yo'. Hilarious! Trippin'. Trippin. (To the passengers on train. Spoken rapidly and loudly, almost in another voice altogether.) Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, if your man can't do this then you should... (To B.) You up? Go. You? (To passengers.) If your man can't do this you should leave him. (B goes to center of the train and suspends his entire body on one arm. His shirt goes over his head revealing extremely muscular abdominals. Both A and B are freakishly strong.) If your man can't. Leave him. See him? See that? If your man can't. Leave 'im. (The entire group starts clapping in unison. Whole beat; whole beat; whole beat; quick half, half. Repeated until the end of the 'performance'.) My man here keeps all his ladies happy. I hope your man does too. (B flips and twists. Does a choreographed act bouncing off the ceiling of the subway. Arms and limbs nearly slapping against seated onlookers. A woman moves to the other end of the train. A is silent during the rest of B's performance.)

To be continued.....

My Very Favorite Quote

There is a vitality, a life force, energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channels open. When you look at your work and see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws and crudities, remember, no artist is ever pleased. For an artist, there is not satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. - Martha Graham, 1943