Characters/Caricatures

There is an odd[?] gentleman and his mean[?] dog at our dog run. He is there everytime I've taken Stewart and is there almost everytime Greg takes him. When I first heard about the man, Greg started the conversation with, "My arm is sore right here where this Indian guy's dog bit me."

Sounds like the begining of a bad joke.

But sure enough, upon my first encounter with the 'Indian guy'...he had long dark hair, with feathers in it...lots of turquoise jewelry...and a mean dog named after Bruce Springsteen. I'm from Texas and I haven't seen anyone dressed like this since I saw a musical about Plymouth Rock. At Six Flags.

Apparently, Stewart is Bruce's type as we can't keep him off his back. And when we reach for Mr. Springsteen's collar, he barks and bites. He must not be 'out' yet. Stewart is, but Bruce is not his type.

Of course, Bruce is 'just playing'.

Of course.

Indio [I swear this is his name.] tells us this everytime Brucie goes for a limb.

Indio is too busy chatting up the other dog owners, taking pictures with his cell phone and mopping up his freshly spilled beer so the dogs don't lick it up. [For reals.]

Then there is the sweet little old lady who walked by us the other night...just a little purse on her shoulder. She looked a bit off[?] and it kind of[?] made sense when she asked for change. She thanked us, walked a few feet forward while looking down at the change in her palm. She turned back to Greg, held out the 'foreign penny' and told him it was of 'no use' to her. Beggars can be choosers.

Our neighbor - just out of college - vibrant, young, spunky, full of aerobic life - teaches voice lessons for his living. We're not positive it is him, but someone sings "Sandy" at the top of his lungs morning, noon and night...complete with the last line leading into the song: "You can't just walk out of a drive in!"....over and over and over and over and over again.

The same way every time.

Poorly.

It is so ironic, it is adorable and I hope he never reads this. Or that he does and it wasn't him.

Greg is about to go out of town for five weeks for a gig in Vermont and while I am so excited and proud for him, us and everything getting a gig like this signifies...I am only now coming to the realization that I will be dealing with the New York Cityness of my life on my own.

I welcome it and I am a little afraid. I'm not necessarily a Bruce Springsteen fan and I don't like Coors Lite.

Disneyfied.

I stepped off the train this morning and was hit with a warm, bright yellow light. It felt nice but strange. Like when you get a little neck rub from someone you don't know very well and didn't pay. I looked along the ground and all around me at what seemed a reflection. I actually paused mid-step and did a 360 check with my eyes - scanning which building the bright reflection was coming from - "... this is SoHo...there aren't any giant, glass paneled buil....wait...it can't be...."

Yep. The ACTUAL sun is out.

Sometimes it is so surreal to sense something natural in this city it is one's first instinct to assume it unnatural.

Can you imagine going back in time, sitting down next to a Cowboy on the range, looking up at a harvest moon together and saying, "wow...that looks so.... fake..." He would look at you the way everybody looks at George McFly.

The Joy of a Hobby

Since I quit acting my acting has never been so good.

Viddys That Inspire Me These Days

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzgVy6Mj2Bw


http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/229


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk

Theatre of the Absurd

[Lights slowly up. 6:13am. Small studio apartment in Manhattan. Very small. Dorm-room small. Man, Woman and Little Dog lay sleeping in bed.]

"Ding."

[Four minutes pass.]

"Ding."

[Two minutes pass.]

"Ding."

[One minute.]

"Ding."

{Thirty seconds.]

"Ding."

[Five.]

"Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding......"

[Woman sits up. Turns off alarm and turns on a lamp. She pulls out her cell phone. Sets the alarm on her phone to vibrate 20 minutes later. She lays back down, phone in hand. Man gets up and crawls over woman to get to the bathroom. She doesn't move. The Little Dog at her side doesn't move. He comes back from the bathroom, crawls over her, changes his mind, crawls back, sets the alarm clock. He crawls back over her. Lays still for a moment, sits up, crawls over her again and stands by the bed thinking about what to do. He decides to wake her. He tries to get her to move. He finally tugs on her arms.]

M: Come on! Here you go....get up! No no no no no...

[She doesn't budge except to being pulled. Opens her eyes.]

W: WHY?!

[He gives up and lays down next to her. He decides to get up to turn out the light.]

W: [Mumbles.] You don't have to turn it off. It would be on anyway.

M: What?

W: It would be on anyway. [Pause.] If I were up.

M: But you're not up.

W: I will be. [Pause.] Soon. Very soon.

[He lays back down next to her. Long pause. He reaches up and adjusts the curtains drawn across the room to serve as a divider for the 'bedroom'. Another long pause. Her phone vibrates and she sits up. Man does too. She struggles as he pushes her out of bed. She stumbles to the bathroom. He lays back down. The Little Dog starts to wake up and nudge the Man. The Man tries to get the Little Dog to lay back down.]

M: [Still laying down.] Sit.

[Little Dog stares at him. Nothing.]

M: Sit.

[Nothing.]

M: Sit.

[Nada.]

M: Sit.

[Nope.]

M: [He sits up.] SIT!

[Little Dog sits. The woman peeks her head out of the bathroom, sees the face-off, goes back in the bathroom.]

M: Good dog. Lay down.

[Little Dog sits up and wags his tail.]

M: No! Sit.

[Little Dog sits.]

M: Good boy. Lay down.

[Little Dog sits up.]

M: Sit!

[Little Dog sits.]

W: [From the bathroom.] He probably needs to go outside. I'll take him in a second.

[Little Dog's tail wags. The man flops himself on his back. Pause. The toilet flushes.]

M: Are you running late?

W: Aren't I always?

[Pause.]

M: I'll take him.

W: No, honey. You always take him. I'll take him.

M: No, I will. You get to work.

W: [She pokes her head out again.] Thank you, hon.

M: [Man grabs Little Dog and rolls over.] I'll take him in a second. [Pause.]

"Ding."

[Man gets up, sighs and turns off alarm. He never got back to sleep. Man crosses to bathroom then decides otherwise and pours himself some coffee instead. He sits at computer with coffee. After a moment, music is heard from the computer. Man begins laughing. Little Dog sits at his feet.]

W: [From the bathroom.] What's that?

M: [Laughing.] Hmmm?

W: [Crossing to him.] What is it?

M: Oh. My friend from San Fransisco sent this. He noticed there were some lyrics in this song that we heard in an Easy-E rap when we were kids.

[Pause.]

W: Oh.

M: It's good, isn't it?

W: Sure.

M: You ok?

W: Yeah. [Pause.} Should I walk him?

M: No, no, no....I will.

W: I can, hon. I'm supposed to. I said I would.

M: I'll do it. [Pause.] You ok?

W: Yeah.

M: What's wrong honey?

W: Nothing.

M: What is it? [Pause.] What, hon?

W: [Almost crying.] I'm just so tired.

[Man slowly turns to audience. Deadpan. Lights out.]

Yeah....no...

Something I don't recommend:

Trying on bathing suits.

On a muggy, rainy day.

On your lunchbreak.

In Daffy's.

Wool skirt. Boots. Fishnets.

I looked like an insane, sweaty, homeless stripper.

And apparently cell phones work in the dressing rooms. I think the women on either side of me were on a conference call with each other.

Outside The Pox

Greg and I are signing a lease on our new apartment today. Our new apartment that took everything but a blood sample to secure. Thank goodness for our families. Thank goodness they like us. I am so excited I could spit.

I have a strange rash developing on my side. I've never been one to develop mysterious rashes. I think they are a funny punchline. Perhaps I'm being punished for that.

Logically, moving is a stressful endeavor but it never seems that way to me. I'm not always logical. I once counted how many times I have moved in my life and it equaled more than my age. Sure, there are good things about stability in your location, but I've never had that for more than three or four years and that was when I was a kid. I don't really know how to operate any other way. I like change. It's distracting.

Twice, when I was small and my parents were still married, my Dad planted me a willow tree in the backyard of our new house. When I go back to visit Dallas, I drive by those trees and know they were planted there for me. Those roots are a part of me, even if I don't call them home.

I appreciate the illusion of controlling my chaos. I remember my mother coming into my bedroom the morning after we moved and I had stayed up all night and completely unpacked everything. She was a little frightened of my tenacity but impressed. All of my Culture Club posters on one side, Michael Jackson on another and Duran Duran covered the rest and the ceiling. I admit that was my favorite part everytime we moved. Nesting has always been a part of my personality. Maybe not cooking, but finding twigs and putting them together just so. I dig that.

I've also always had a fascination with 'collections'. I was seven when my mother found a shoebox full of 'tiny scraps of paper' and threw them out. It was my sticker collection. Every beautiful sticker I painstakingly earned I had torn up into little pieces. My collection went from the hundreds to the thousands! Quanity, not quality boys and girls!

I wouldn't be surprised if over the years, in direct relation to all of the times I've moved, I've learned that quality is more important. Stuff is just stuff. You can always get more stuff.

If you can let go of good stuff, you can let go of bad feelings. Let us purge. Let us all find a simple, beautiful life.

Mine will be about collecting cardboard for the next month. Good thing I don't have a car and just had knee surgery. I'm also a little itchy.

BUT, I'm really excited!