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http://banishingdiscontent.typepad.com/
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Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I Wish I Knew His Name
I'm my way home in the rain Sunday night - singing louder than my car radio and holding on to the wheel with both hands because my brain feels sort of delicious crazy - overstuffed and alive with theories from my Sam Christensen acting seminar. As I turn off Ventura Boulevard and start to climb the 101 ramp my headlights catch a flash of a white car upside down in the ditch beside the freeway. The car was lit by my headlights... - no red and white flashing lights... Shit! No red and white flashing lights! - I speed up to loop back around to get back off on the next exit. It's not like I have a choice- we had just been talking about our personal myths - acting and otherwise and mine is "hero" so... I pull into the the park n ride lot behind the ramp and find there are already some people there. They look at me helplessly - standing in their own headlights, because the lot is circled by a tall fence with a string of barbed wire - and the car is halfway up the the ditch on the other side.
"Did you call 911?' I ask.
"Girl, we couldn't get through!" They say.
"Keep trying" I tell them (like they weren't going to think of that) - and do my best to clear the top of the fence and save the butt of my swanky new wide cuffed leg Ann Taylor pants that I had to order special from the catalog because I am short. I feel barbed wire in the butt. Damnit.
The car doesn't appear to be leaking anything and I'm glad it's not going to be that kind of movie... I slip in the dirty wet leaves trying to climb up and around to the other side where a young black guy has somehow ended up outside of his broken rear passenger window. He's laying on his back with his head lifted to his metallic red cell phone. He's trying to call his Mom.
"Are you okay?" I ask - placing my open hand solidly on his chest so he knows he's not alone there anymore.
"I can't feel my legs."
I tell him we need to call 911.
He says he did but he couldn't get through. "I can't get through to my Mom - I've tried four times."
He seems pretty calm. I look down and thank God there isn't any blood - no compound fractures and they aren't twisted up- eww. I rub my hand solidly up and down his sweater- soothing, like he's a little kid who has taken a bad spill.
In my acting seminar we had talked about "certainty" as being part of my hero myth. This has always been hard for me to buy into - I mean who am I to be certain about anything? But if that is really true - then this guy is going to believe what I say to him - I think, "You are going to be okay - alright?" Then I tell him - "You can't get through to 911 because everyone is calling them - all the people in the parking lot - and all the people who can see you from the road okay?" This part is bullshit - you can't see him from the road and NO ONE seems to be able to get through- but fuck it - I'm CERTAIN. "All sorts of people are on their way here to help you right now. You are going to be fine."
"I can't feel my legs."
"You look good okay? You are talking to me - you are going to be fine. They can totally fix that stuff these days. They'll be here to help you soon - just lean your head back okay? Are you cold?" I'm trying to get him to look at me - but he won't. He seems almost embarassed and now I'm worried because he's beginning to look scared. I don't have anything to keep him warm - what am I going to give him my shirt? So I wipe the rain off his forehead, drawing my finger from his eyebrows up to his short tight curled hair. His skin is dark and unblemished, perfect and dry for a second. He has a big tough square rhinestone in his ear - but it doesn't look like he means it - he just seems like a good kid. The kind who's on his way home on a little late on Sunday night in his well kept Chevy Cavalier who is worried he is going to be in big trouble but he wants his Mom any way.
I see a fire truck and an ambulance pulling over above. "See - look at all these people coming to help you- maybe you'll get a hot nurse..." I wrap my hand around his. He realizes this and squeezes back as the firemen in their yellow battle gear thunder in.
I stand up and back away. One of the Los Angeles Fire Department firefighters wants to know where I came from and I point to the fence. Now I'm kind of covered in dirt and rain and he mentions that was pretty big of me and I think- yeah, that was pretty cool - and you are hot! Where do they get these guys - Central Casting? I want totellhim he is a hero every day, but I mumble something and slip down the hill as the dirt and leaves give way. Super hot fire fighter warns, "we don't want two patients here tonight," and I know I am past my cue to leave. Good Samaritans become annoying quickly I am sure. He helps me back over the fence. For a moment I wish I could stay - I wish I needed to be rescued. I wonder how tacky it would be to try to flirt with this guy 15 feet from a kid who probably just snapped his spine.
I stand in the rain and watch the boy's legs sort of rag doll as the stretcher pops into place at the top of the hill.
"Girl- you just went over that fence!" the women are repeating, "damn!" They are caught up in the drama - the shared experience of it all and I am sort of envious. I know that when I get back into my car and drive home there will be no one there - except for the drycleaning bill- it's like it never happened. I never even got his name.
When I feel myself start to shiver I'm glad. - It feels real.
"Did you call 911?' I ask.
"Girl, we couldn't get through!" They say.
"Keep trying" I tell them (like they weren't going to think of that) - and do my best to clear the top of the fence and save the butt of my swanky new wide cuffed leg Ann Taylor pants that I had to order special from the catalog because I am short. I feel barbed wire in the butt. Damnit.
The car doesn't appear to be leaking anything and I'm glad it's not going to be that kind of movie... I slip in the dirty wet leaves trying to climb up and around to the other side where a young black guy has somehow ended up outside of his broken rear passenger window. He's laying on his back with his head lifted to his metallic red cell phone. He's trying to call his Mom.
"Are you okay?" I ask - placing my open hand solidly on his chest so he knows he's not alone there anymore.
"I can't feel my legs."
I tell him we need to call 911.
He says he did but he couldn't get through. "I can't get through to my Mom - I've tried four times."
He seems pretty calm. I look down and thank God there isn't any blood - no compound fractures and they aren't twisted up- eww. I rub my hand solidly up and down his sweater- soothing, like he's a little kid who has taken a bad spill.
In my acting seminar we had talked about "certainty" as being part of my hero myth. This has always been hard for me to buy into - I mean who am I to be certain about anything? But if that is really true - then this guy is going to believe what I say to him - I think, "You are going to be okay - alright?" Then I tell him - "You can't get through to 911 because everyone is calling them - all the people in the parking lot - and all the people who can see you from the road okay?" This part is bullshit - you can't see him from the road and NO ONE seems to be able to get through- but fuck it - I'm CERTAIN. "All sorts of people are on their way here to help you right now. You are going to be fine."
"I can't feel my legs."
"You look good okay? You are talking to me - you are going to be fine. They can totally fix that stuff these days. They'll be here to help you soon - just lean your head back okay? Are you cold?" I'm trying to get him to look at me - but he won't. He seems almost embarassed and now I'm worried because he's beginning to look scared. I don't have anything to keep him warm - what am I going to give him my shirt? So I wipe the rain off his forehead, drawing my finger from his eyebrows up to his short tight curled hair. His skin is dark and unblemished, perfect and dry for a second. He has a big tough square rhinestone in his ear - but it doesn't look like he means it - he just seems like a good kid. The kind who's on his way home on a little late on Sunday night in his well kept Chevy Cavalier who is worried he is going to be in big trouble but he wants his Mom any way.
I see a fire truck and an ambulance pulling over above. "See - look at all these people coming to help you- maybe you'll get a hot nurse..." I wrap my hand around his. He realizes this and squeezes back as the firemen in their yellow battle gear thunder in.
I stand up and back away. One of the Los Angeles Fire Department firefighters wants to know where I came from and I point to the fence. Now I'm kind of covered in dirt and rain and he mentions that was pretty big of me and I think- yeah, that was pretty cool - and you are hot! Where do they get these guys - Central Casting? I want totellhim he is a hero every day, but I mumble something and slip down the hill as the dirt and leaves give way. Super hot fire fighter warns, "we don't want two patients here tonight," and I know I am past my cue to leave. Good Samaritans become annoying quickly I am sure. He helps me back over the fence. For a moment I wish I could stay - I wish I needed to be rescued. I wonder how tacky it would be to try to flirt with this guy 15 feet from a kid who probably just snapped his spine.
I stand in the rain and watch the boy's legs sort of rag doll as the stretcher pops into place at the top of the hill.
"Girl- you just went over that fence!" the women are repeating, "damn!" They are caught up in the drama - the shared experience of it all and I am sort of envious. I know that when I get back into my car and drive home there will be no one there - except for the drycleaning bill- it's like it never happened. I never even got his name.
When I feel myself start to shiver I'm glad. - It feels real.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Sunrise
It's probably a good thing that it was still dark when I left that morning - because I couldn't tell IT WAS ABOUT TO STORM. Just a little tropical storm I kept telling myself as I peddled my route to the end of the island. Yeah, I was wearing my glasses and a tank top. But look - it was worth it. Check out the 3 ibis - ibises? Ibisi? Dancing in a circle like 3 witches from the M play.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Marilyn's Pool
So here it is - the site of Marilyn's last photo shoot. And hey, mine! Which is where the similarities end. Except we have the same birthday - June 1st!
Ladies and Gentleman... Mr.Cleese
Back to December, seeings as I blog just about every fortnight (that means 2 months right?) - I shot a commercial with the legendary John Cleese. For realsies - I know it looks like my head is photoshopped into his armpit - but I assure you that is just the magic of digital photography. My lit agent said that it did cross her mind that I looked like "a bobblehead." Flatterer - where are my contracts? It was a spot for Kaupthing Bank. What? You've never heard of the biggest bank in Iceland? Yeah, me neither - but who cares what the product is when it is John Cleese. He was very nice - if that was going to be your next question. But it was only a few days before Christmas and everyone was a bit overwhelmed. The shoot was at Frank Sinatra's old house in Topanga. I'll try to post a picture - it was bizarre and gorgeous. If you recognize the pool it is because that is where Marilyn Monroe's last photo shoot was.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Goodness Gracious
Just got back from a visit to the East Coast. Too bad they don't make sit coms in Maryland because I could sure get used to waking up to this every morning.
Friday, September 22, 2006
My Big Day!
My funny hubby!
A picture perfect day!
Ahhh the look of love!
P.S. The bride and groom are registered at Crate & Barrel, Pottery Barn and Target...
Monday, September 18, 2006
Look at Me
Yeah baby - look at me - I have a blog - and as long as my neighbor keeps her wifi on I can post pictures and write all all manner of minutiae - what I ate for dinner (Trader Joe's Pad Thai - the box kind - not premade), what I watched on television tonight (Studio 60 on the Sunset Script) and all sorts of other blah blah blah! Are you as excited as I am?
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