(no subject)

A woman outside my window has been wailing for the last twenty minutes, "I don't bother anybody." Honey, everybody bothers somebody. Actually, mostly it just makes me really sad.

Someone in the city seems to be giving out my phone number to guys they don't want to date. All the men seem to be within some ethnic group I can't determine based on the accent/foreign language factor when they call me. Some are rude, other's just puzzled that I am not named Patricia and don't recall meeting their fabulous massage therapist self in some bar in Soho.

I've also received a photo from the Hadassah shoot which is now on my website at http://www.rachelinemaltese.com/ha.html (this photo, regrettably, does not involve a goat). I have some other proudction stills from other things that I need to add (stuff that's old at this point, including Third Watch and that handbag shoot), but that will not be happening this morning.

dance class, random nyc vioelnce moment, scents, directing

Had Regency dance class today, which was made particularly absurd by the big stupid billboard for Fantastic Four being at eye level outside of the studio windows. Kali and I kept cracking up inappropriately, which I suppose is good, because otherwise it was really too warm to be having that good a time. I think we both looked and/or felt dead before it even started today.

Meanwhile, I left out perhaps the weirdest detail of my filming adventure yesterday. The van service I took back into the city, pulls over immediately after entering Manhattan, but not where the stop is, the drive gets out, and picks up a sign on teh street and starts beating someone over the head with it outside. Then gets back on the bus and brings us to our stop. Not speaking enough Spanish or seeing what started the incident, I have no idea what happened.

Finally, I had BPAL arrive yesterday, but it was a random freebie in it that turned out to be really exciting. Lots of their scents interest me, but lots don't and some I like and are just unwearable for me. I've not decided if I can really wear this one yet, although I did today, but when I first sniffed it, I was so just knocked back by it because my brain went to something so specific in my fiction (a lot of scents get categorized by what the people in my head would wear). Walking to the subway I finally figured out how to phrase it -- if a man were a signpost. _This_ is why I don't write BPAL reviews. i can't pick out most notes, and I can't talk cogently, I can only say these weird atmospheric things. Appropriately, or perhaps just sadly, this one is called Rome.

Cate's also sent me a new draft of her play that I need to read, and I have to call the folks about mine tomorrow. Meanwhile, I keep randomly drifting off into the "Oh-my-god-if-it-sucks-it's-all-my-fault-directing-blahriasdngf!" headspace about my short. I don't think i've ever felt so much angst about disappointing people or making them angry with my work, when really, it's just not even a significant enough piece for either to be a legitimate concern.