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rmI do it for the love. No, really.
So, as recently reported, someone stole the cutting board from the Kinkos nearest to my home. So I, somwhere between being practical and in the throes of a compulsion, set out to walk to the Astor Place Kinkos. This is a hike from me, although not an intolerable one in weather that isn't colder than Mars.
Let me re-emphasize the cold thing again -- very very cold -- I've got a turtle neck, a blazer and a real goosedown coat on, and hat and gloves and I am COLD.
At any rate, upon arriving at my 2nd choice Kinkos, I discover, through trial and error, the cutting board is broken. Okay, okay, I can go up to 22nd street on the east side or 24th on the west, and the truth is, I may be in the throes of a compulsion but I really don't want to do either.
So I stall and go into the Barnes & Noble across the street to buy some plays. Encountered, in the play section, are a pair of NYU students looking for a monologue for class. They are loud, and I am uncomfortable, and then the following dialogue ensues:
Girl: "What's the Laramie Project about?"
Boy: "You know, that guy, that got beat up."
Girl: "What guy?"
Boy: "They beat him up, some people, I think in Wyoming, they were travelling in Wyoming. They hit him a lot."
Girl: "I don't remember this."
Boy: "It was on the news."
Just as I am about to step in with "Matthew Sheppard was beat, tied to a fence and left to die in Laramie, Wyoming for being gay" all the copies of Angels in America on the shelf suddenly go tmumbling onto the floor. All three of us are entirely spooked and the girl eventually bends to pick them up.
Boy: "That was really creepy, that it was that play."
Girl: "Why?"
Boy: "That's Angels in America."
Girl: "I haven't read it."
Boy: "It's like, about the same thing."
Girl: "Wyoming?"
I leave, and inspiration strikes. There's another copy shop on 4th street, scene of the most absurdist movie audition and worst script I've ever encountered. Hey, it's a plan.
On the way there I pass Shakespeare & Company, whereupon I actually find some stuff to buy, as I'm paying and leaving, I notice the song crooning out of the speakers there. "Darling you send me..." which for me will always in my mind be sung on the G train on the way to a party by a rather tipsy version of a much older man I had a realionship with in my early twenties. Good enough for me; I smile, and leave the store singing it, instead of Man of the Hour.
Upon arriving at the copy shop, I do, in fact find a paper cutter, and cut two resumes down, before the woman at the copier next to me starts glaring at me -- apparently she was using the copier and the cutter at the same time, and I am in her way. Fine, the other resumes can be cut later. One is done, the compulsion is resolved, and I retreat to the counter the stapler is glued to in order to finish getting everything together.
At which point, two things make themselves known in my world. The first, is that Lightening Crashes is playing in the store, loudly. The second is that a man is on a payphone yelling in that "Look at me, I'm a powerful guy" way about the lawsuit his client who is some sort of on-air talent professional is having against WPLJ. This goes on and on and on, but eventually, my task is done, and I am on my way.
Since the city has removed so many mailboxes post-9/11, I actually wind up mailing the damn thing right around the corner from my house. But it's done, and I walked well over a mile in really crap temperatures to do it. And New York is absolutely positively at it's strangest when it's too cold for people to leave their homes.
Also -- audition tomorrow, 2 on Sunday. But seriously, folks, does Racheline sound like a male name to you?
So, as recently reported, someone stole the cutting board from the Kinkos nearest to my home. So I, somwhere between being practical and in the throes of a compulsion, set out to walk to the Astor Place Kinkos. This is a hike from me, although not an intolerable one in weather that isn't colder than Mars.
Let me re-emphasize the cold thing again -- very very cold -- I've got a turtle neck, a blazer and a real goosedown coat on, and hat and gloves and I am COLD.
At any rate, upon arriving at my 2nd choice Kinkos, I discover, through trial and error, the cutting board is broken. Okay, okay, I can go up to 22nd street on the east side or 24th on the west, and the truth is, I may be in the throes of a compulsion but I really don't want to do either.
So I stall and go into the Barnes & Noble across the street to buy some plays. Encountered, in the play section, are a pair of NYU students looking for a monologue for class. They are loud, and I am uncomfortable, and then the following dialogue ensues:
Girl: "What's the Laramie Project about?"
Boy: "You know, that guy, that got beat up."
Girl: "What guy?"
Boy: "They beat him up, some people, I think in Wyoming, they were travelling in Wyoming. They hit him a lot."
Girl: "I don't remember this."
Boy: "It was on the news."
Just as I am about to step in with "Matthew Sheppard was beat, tied to a fence and left to die in Laramie, Wyoming for being gay" all the copies of Angels in America on the shelf suddenly go tmumbling onto the floor. All three of us are entirely spooked and the girl eventually bends to pick them up.
Boy: "That was really creepy, that it was that play."
Girl: "Why?"
Boy: "That's Angels in America."
Girl: "I haven't read it."
Boy: "It's like, about the same thing."
Girl: "Wyoming?"
I leave, and inspiration strikes. There's another copy shop on 4th street, scene of the most absurdist movie audition and worst script I've ever encountered. Hey, it's a plan.
On the way there I pass Shakespeare & Company, whereupon I actually find some stuff to buy, as I'm paying and leaving, I notice the song crooning out of the speakers there. "Darling you send me..." which for me will always in my mind be sung on the G train on the way to a party by a rather tipsy version of a much older man I had a realionship with in my early twenties. Good enough for me; I smile, and leave the store singing it, instead of Man of the Hour.
Upon arriving at the copy shop, I do, in fact find a paper cutter, and cut two resumes down, before the woman at the copier next to me starts glaring at me -- apparently she was using the copier and the cutter at the same time, and I am in her way. Fine, the other resumes can be cut later. One is done, the compulsion is resolved, and I retreat to the counter the stapler is glued to in order to finish getting everything together.
At which point, two things make themselves known in my world. The first, is that Lightening Crashes is playing in the store, loudly. The second is that a man is on a payphone yelling in that "Look at me, I'm a powerful guy" way about the lawsuit his client who is some sort of on-air talent professional is having against WPLJ. This goes on and on and on, but eventually, my task is done, and I am on my way.
Since the city has removed so many mailboxes post-9/11, I actually wind up mailing the damn thing right around the corner from my house. But it's done, and I walked well over a mile in really crap temperatures to do it. And New York is absolutely positively at it's strangest when it's too cold for people to leave their homes.
Also -- audition tomorrow, 2 on Sunday. But seriously, folks, does Racheline sound like a male name to you?
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-26 09:08 pm (UTC)re: plays in bookstore and dumb as rocks NYU kids- seriously creepy and strange.
re: Racheline- um, no way in hell does it sound male to me. I think 1950s screen actress appearing with Bogart in murder mystery
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2004-01-27 06:26 am (UTC)So, in short, no.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-27 11:13 am (UTC)