A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything.
No wonder you and London will get along so well.
What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)
London has only come into my consciousness in the last two or three months. Hmmm....
Hustle and Flow was terrific... everytime I thought it was going "predictable" it surprised me! I love when movies do that. Terrence Howard was THE BEST in creating this character, so subtle and earnest... he was also A#1 in Crash. And mind you he and Ludacris were both in that as well.
Roger Ebert said it all better than I:
What we see in the "Hustle & Flow" is rarely seen in the movies: the redemptive power of art. Djay is transformed when he finds something he loves doing and is getting better at. To create something out of your own mind and talent and see that it is good.
There's a scene in the church with the most pure, simplest moments of music and emotion... I'm so glad I witnessed it...
And can I just say, that three of my most exciting movies lately have been made by writer-director combos?! Andrew Wagner (The Talent Given Us), Paul Haggis (Crash) and now Craig Brewer (who is... yes... white), not to mention the doc Mad Hot Ballroom. I can't bear to try the "summer blockbusters" out there... "auteur" is where I'm going.
I promise.
I love this show! I like to watch struggling actors, trying to be real on screen and real in their lives when they're under a microscope... oh, another road not taken...
[For the record, I'm betting on Alec or Prudence. They both have the "look," have a worldly, mature sense about them, and are terrific actors and good people.]
Went to the store after what seems like 30 million naps... got tons to drink. Ginger ale, tea, juice. I'm gonna wipe this damn cold out quick, I hate being sick.
But can I just say -- I am so glad I live where I live. In L.A. In a town full of singles like me. Because everyone was in the grocery store shopping after 11, only buying one or two bags worth of stuff. So contrary to what I grew up, when mom would go to the (military) Commissary and we'd have to spend what felt like HOURS in there pushing two filled-to-the-brim carts, then coming home and folding paper bags all day. Blech!
I've always told my friends with kids... I don't know how you do it, planning meals and being responsible for the nutritional health of growing children (and of course, you and your spouse). I'm just happy I remembered to take the dairy enzymes before I had my feel good when you sick food of Ben and Jerry's Marshmallow something-or-other.
I guess I just don't have that grocery gene. Maybe next life.
Unlike my friend Jeffrey who likes to be completely alone to heal, when I'm sick I want to be babied and taken care of in a BIG way...
I was supposed to go with Andrew (the officiant) and Heidi to Oceanside and sit with Kate while they attended the no-kids-wedding-rehearsal-reception festivities of a friend... and I'm speaking two octaves lower than anyone human should. UGH! Summer colds should be illegal.
Okay, off to the Rx for some Cold-eze, OJ and echinacea.
Someone on a theater list was asking for crazy theater anecdotes... and I was happy to share mine!
In the early 1980s (80-81?) our school (Occidental College) did West Side Story. The casting was very controversial, in that they hired a "real actor" (probably a SAG/AFTRA guy) to play Tony because apparently they didn't have a good enough Tony in our own college ranks. (Hey, my question is -- WHY DO WEST SIDE STORY THEN?!) But I digress. The Maria chosen was also miscast, in my humble opinion... a bit on the Mamacita side, so much so they had to change a line about her weight... (I believe she was cast because she was the most "dependable" actress... what, are they nuts?!) Again, sorry, I digress.
So it must have been second or third night of a six-night college run... and the very BLOND Tony (isn't he supposed to be mistaken for a Puerto Rican?!) finishes singing "Something's Coming" and gets whisked away, hanging onto a moving set piece that looked like chain link fence. The beginning of the dance n the gym starts, the ballerina starts a twirling away center stage... and suddenly the music STOPS.
The director comes front and center and asks if there's a doctor in the house... someone runs up and we're all kept in the dark as the actors file off stage. A few minutes later, the director comes back -- apparently Tony got taken away on the set piece as planned, but HIS SHOULDER STAYED ON STAGE. Completely pulled it out of its socket, poor guy. And of course there were no understudies.
So they cancelled the next two performances, and told us our tickets were good for the closing night. Well, I'm for sure gonna see this -- and hmmm, I sure hope the guy's feeling better. But then out comes the director again.
Apparently not only is Tony in a shoulder cast and a sling... but Maria has completely lost her singing voice. Gone. Nada. She can speak, but cannot sing. So they decided to have the girl playing #3 Puerto Rican girl (after Anita) who SHOULD have been cast in the first place (she was more of a singer than an actress, but she could wallop a punch and has since been in many productions, including Phantom...) -- on the side, stage left, ON A PODIUM singing all of Maria's songs, while Maria the Mamacita ended up MIMING to SAG/AFTRA Tony in a sling.
Oh dear -- what a farce! I swear they cursed themselves the second they decided to cast off campus! In any case, West Side Story will never be the same again... and I LOVE going to live theater!
She came from Sacramento to get a bit of an L.A. fix -- where dreams, artists and people who are home during the day are the NORM, not the exception. So I told her we had to see this film, The Talent Given Us, an independent film made by a director for $30,000 using his family and friends playing -- themselves. Actually it's shot documentary-style and feels so real you don't know what's scripted and what's not. I thought it would be terrific inspiration for both me and her and our artistic endeavors.
It originally was only playing in one theater until July 6th (the director, Andrew Wagner, was self-distributing it)... but when I found out it was playing for one more week, I told her we should go, you'll really get your L.A. fix at the Sunset Laemmle 5 because it was the big INDIE theater... so we grabbed our friends Jeffrey and Alan, had dinner at CPK and went on up to the theater.
As the credits ran the director came out and introduced most of the L.A. cast... "...and my friend, Billy Wirth." Hey, what a surprise! My stomach gut started turning -- first of all, did I not learn yet that when I venture anywhere west of La Brea I need to at least TRY and look like I'm not from Hicksville and comb my hair?! I'm wearing an Occidental t-shirt and tennis shoes after a long day of staying inside and working on the computer... blecch, 20+ years here and I haven't learned that you can meet anyone at anytime! Second of all... hm... should I say hello? Will he remember me after 19 years? Is there anything to talk about anyway? And boy, is R going to kill me because she's not here...
Anyhoo, the Q&A is over -- no real surprises because I'd already read all the press there was on this film (I'm picky about where my $10 movie-going dollar goes) and my friends and I walk out. But then I turn around, cross my fingers and hope my saying hi isn't too weird.
I wait as everyone files out, and here comes Mr. Wirth... I catch his eyeball and he gives me a big grin! YAY... and he's coming over.
"Hi Billy," I say, "I don't know if you remember me... The Ellen Burstyn Show?" (I was the Asst to Exec Prod. Norman Steinberg and Supervising Prod. David Frankel when we shot the 1986 pilot in LA; Billy played "Johnny," one of Ellen's college students. We got to know each other a bit at the dress rehearsals. Of course I have no idea where my copy of that show is... but he did improvise a couple of lines that the Norman and David kept in... we all knew he was going somewhere even back then, his first show.)
"Yeah, of course I remember you," he smiles, "but tell me your name again?"
"It used to be S---- but now it's Madley, like Truly Madly Deeply." Another big smile: "Madley. And how are you doing?"
So I fill him in on a couple of things, but get back right away to tell him it was good to see him in this. He asks if I saw HIS film, MacArthur Park. I tell him unfortunately NOT YET, but that that is how I found about his recent foray into directing. I was looking for a possible producer for one of my plays, specifically a Filipino-American, and I was given the name of HIS producer on MacArthur Park.
I ask what's up next, he says he's going to the indie studios for some bigger $$ to do a film about hip-hop and rap -- with a different point of view. It's still in the early stages... something is happening in September but unfortunately I can't remember what. He doesn't think he'll act in it.
I also ask him, like in the movie, his father did pass away. "Yes, " he says, "about four years ago. I miss him every day."
I started to feel anxious that there might be others wanting to talk to him, but he was quite focussed on who was in front of him -- and boy, is that a relief! You never know when you're at these things if "they" are looking to meet other "bigger" people -- and I'm glad to report it was just a few nice and quiet minutes with an old friend.
I tell him I'd heard and seen and liked his artwork -- "The polaroids?" and ask if there's something on his website where I can be notified if he has a gallery show. He says he should have one soon, and his work is blown up pretty big -- and the webmaster is working on getting a mailing list up (I was too shy to ask for an email address and not be to presumptious.). D has come by and I introduced them (boy, NOW she had a good ole Hollywood story to tell) and I know it's time to get back to Jeffrey and Alan.
"It was really good to see you," I say, "and I hope to see you again soon." He agrees, thanks D and I for coming, gives me a hug and I give him a kiss on his stubbled cheek. "Take care!" I say, and off we go to get our parking validated and out the door.
I have thoughts about that meeting Saturday... but it'll have to wait for now. Lots of old memories flooding back... I went to live in NY that summer for "The Ellen Burstyn Show" and I stayed for two years...
More later. (R, it was nice... we'll see him again, I'm sure!)
Got this from Fishy.
 | You are Don Juan From "Don Juan De Marco." Woobaby! You are Don Juan - dark and handsome, and the world's greatest lover. Some people find you to be a bit insane (or is that insanely sexy?). While you may not be playing with all 52 cards, don't let that get you down - you're a true romantic at heart. |
Taken a few years ago at Huntington Gardens, San Marino, by my dear friend, D, who's coming to tomorrow night to stay and get her "art fill" in L.A. -- yahooey and YAY!
by Rose Royce (1970 something). That was "my song" with Matt T. in high school. One Christmas back from college we had a party at my house, and my then bratty little brother and his buddy were in charge of the music.
"Hey Arch," he told his friend, "Watch this."
He plays this song and wherever we were in the room, Matt and I were like magnets and found each other to slow dance right there in my living room. My brother and Archie were quite entertained.
I dreamt about Matt last night... what "coulda been"... and of course the great sex that was. LOL
No, who am I kidding. I could never have been a military wife.
This week has been a bit OFF. Still recovering from parental visit, I guess... you think I'd be over that by now... I'm finding I get a bit nuts when I've had an emotional rollercoaster weekend/week, and I can be reactive and reckless to try to get back to the normality of my life...
And yes, that's call(s) -- plural.
First one shouldn't have happened -- am I still such an idiot to think I'd could meet a "nice fella" by instant message? ("Yes, Madley, you are.") I know better... folks are lookin' to hook up when they're online like that, which is one of the reasons I usually don't have my Buddy List on (or is it so all my past digressions don't find me anymore?! Be honest here.)
Well, got on the phone after 15 minutes of flirty typing... ends up he's "only" ten years younger than me, and quite intelligent. But when you start playing "I'll tell you a secret" games on the phone... come on now, you know where this is going.
And I went. What a sorry, uncomfortable time this was. I'll never forget it -- for as wonderful T. was in NYC (my Cinderella in the City week), this smooth-talkin' fellow was just WRONG. I berated myself at the time the same as I'm doing now... wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
No MORE newbies like that. I end up disliking myself to no end, and that doesn't fit my life anymore.
===
M. is someone I met online six years ago -- back when IMing was new and... well, it felt better anyway. We actually talked for a long while, and met up with the intention of maybe dating for real. No such luck ;)
I used to call him my f*ck buddy, but after a little pressing on that phrase (as in I really enjoy his company and no, I don't want to share), it seems so disrespectful. (Is there something kinda off about that sentence?... hm...) And "friends with benefits" sounds cloying... so now, he's just my friend, M., that I see on occassion.
Two minutes later he's back on saying a pretty personal phrase that means somethin' special to the two of us and ka-boom, it's late but I'm going to be there in 30 minutes.
45 minutes later, I'm still in my car and I realizing M. wasn't out walking the dog. I try knocking again and get a "who is it?" I say me, and he's half dead.
"Were we supposed to meet tonight?"
Um, yeah... that's what your IM said and I confirmed. Ends up he really went to sleep and someone else must've hacked into his IM. I don't know how (I never know how), but some schmuck/schmuckette must have been laughing to high heaven because he and I really crossed paths.
Poor M. felt bad I'd driven the 21.6 miles over there, but it wasn't his fault (and no, I wasn't gonna stay). And now we have other IM addresses to use as well as a really good code we made verbally to assure that never happens again. Take THAT, stalker!
Or I guess we could use the phone too.
Bottom line... thank god the week's over.
