Ameripean

pictures: me (maya) & bret (new zealander), matt (hungarian), birk (german), and sophie (french)

Lately I have been told "Are you sure you are American? You seem more European to me?"
I have been told this half a dozen times since I have been living in New York, and by Europeans nonetheless.

I wasn't sure why exactly I had been told this, so I've asked a few of my European friends. Their responses were:

"You very passionate, you don't keep anything bottled up inside, that's not very American, non?"

"You love pleasure, and don't feel guilty about it, you feel you deserve it, that's very European."

While these two items are somewhat true (especially the "I don't keep anything bottled up thing"), I do love passion and pleasure, however, I do feel guilty about these things. I am American in this way. I don't think I have been someone that has avoided the puritanical vibe altogether. Sometimes when things are so beautiful around me and I find myself sliding into "Joie de vivre" I start to feel that I don't deserve it and the guilt/gloom comes back and I think "Yep, that's more of the way I am suppose to feel."

I think this is why I have confused every European man that I have dated (which has been, ehem, a lot lately: German, Swedish, Turkish, French, and Russian) They think they are getting an American women, head strong, slightly repressed, and who will be swept away by their European ways (passion, long discussions on philosophy, politics, pleasure, food, and oh, passion); but what they get instead is what I will call an "Ameripean" (aka a New Yorker) no nonsense, slightly jaded, enjoys long discussions on philosophy, politics, pleasure, food, and passion, but just don't carried away buddy or I’ll start getting annoyed.

There is something to be said about getting rid of guilt, this idea that we don’t deserve pleasure, that it should be a reward for hard work done and that there should be a limit on it once we are enjoying our self "I've being relaxing for about 30 minuets now...I'll relax for about 10 more minutes, but then I really need to get something done." It is ingrained in most of us the we must always accomplish, always achieve. I know, this has been apart of my genetic make-up since I can remember. I still have moments of feeling anxious if I am not planning, creating, doing, working out, etc.

I am working on this, but it is easier said then done. These are the things that I have done to try and push my joy forward and to remember pleasure again:

I laid down in my living room and listened to Bach (Concerto for Two Violins in D minor) and did nothing else except listen to the violins swirl above my head.

I poured my self a glass of wine and sat on my roof and watched the sunset over Chinatown reflecting off of the Manhattan Bridge Arc.

Told a man where I would like to be kissed and how (sounds demanding, but trust me he loved it!)

Spent way to much on a pedicure and manicure just to have both my hands and feet pampered (and took and hour and half lunch doing it...damn the boss).

I still have to work on this, in the next two years I want to travel, or at the vary least feel better about relaxing and being creative. I told a friend of mine yesterday that my work environment was stressful, and that my boss is toxic, that I wanted to be more creative and I am worried that this environment is hindering it- to which she said "Maybe the environment is making you more creative that you need the stress of it to me creative." Thank God I know that is not true. I feel that if I was in a better environment more of my ideas would flow. After all some of the times when I was most creative in my life was when I was in a low stress environment. I don't believe I need adversity to be creative, only a quite room, a typewriter, and perhaps a little Bach in the background, maybe that is the European part of me.

well being

I saw on myspace today that my beautiful Ama requested something to be written on the subject of well being- so this is for her and for me.

Let your love flow outward through the universe,
To its height, its depth, its broad extent,
A limitless love, without hatred or enmity.
Then as you stand or walk,
Sit or lie down,
As long as you are awake,
Strive for this with a one-pointed mind;
Your life will bring heaven to earth.
Sutta Nipata

In the past, whenever I find my strength is very low, I turn to Buddhism. I was first attracted to Buddhism when I lived in Albuquerque, NM. A good friend of mine in the 8th grade (whose name was also Maya) had parents that practiced Buddhism. She was always so annoyed with then when they did their chanting. Perhaps is it was because it was usually when Maya had friends over to watch movies, or maybe it embarrassed her. "Oh my God this is SO ANNOYING!" Maya would say while closing the doors to their meditation room.

After her parents finished chanting- they would fix dinner together, and come out and join us while we watched our movies. Her parents seemed to be so in love, peaceful, and generous. I wanted to know what that was about- what brought them that inner and outer glow. To me, it looked like Buddhism brought that element of strength in their life, and so I decided to investigate that.

A year after that, my mother died. My world was shattered. Mothers are our universe. My anchor was gone and all control in my life disappeared. The ground felt like is was cracking open, I felt like I was floating away, and drowning all at the same time. My mind, my heart, and my soul where all in a tremendous amount of pain.

What Buddhism brought to me was hope. It told me there was no such thing as control- so don't look for it, do not seek it. That everything was temporary. That scared me at first, but then I welcomed that idea, because that meant my pain, my suffering was also temporary, and that peace, and serenity would be mine again. Although that meant those things would also be temporary, I looked at it differently- that while pain might always come, joy, love, and peace would also always come.

Conquer the angry man by love.
Conquer the ill-natured man by goodness.
Conquer the miser with generosity.
Conquer the liar with truth.
The Dhammapada

Work has been hard for me lately.

Not my creative life, but the work that pays my bills, my day job.
I work for a very difficult man. He loses his temper sometimes on an hourly basis. He calls his associate that has worked for him for 20 years "a moron" and "a f*cking f*ggit." It's painful to me that he talks like this to someone. That it is acceptable for him to treat others with such disrespect.

I have watched him slam his phone so hard that he has broken it. I have heard stories of him choking people,I hear him yelling at the top of lungs on almost a daily basis. He makes his personal assistant do ridiculous things like order peanuts in bulk for him so he can save 10 cents a packet and to find out what type of hair dye Richard Gere uses to he can dye his hair that color.

My boss is intimidated by me, because I am an intelligent, attractive, aggressive women. It bothers him. It bothers him that I know this business better then any man that he has hired in his past 25 years, it bothers him that I stand up to him.

This past Thursday he talked to me like I was a child. Sometimes he does things like that to try and bring me down "a notch or two" as he would like me "to soften" and to me more "feminine." I walked into his office.

"Don't you ever talk to me like I am a child again." I said to him firmly.

"You need to listen to be better!" He barked at me.

"I can't but help listen to you, because you are yelling at me." I said back.

I reminded him that I am doing the job of three people, but that he was paying like one person, a very poor person.

"Maybe you need to find a job that will pay you more then Maya." He threated.

"No problem. Four weeks notice." I said with icey calmness.

This scared him. I had called his bluff and he now realized the women that has been running his contracts department and production coordination for three of his artists had just tenured her resignation.

"Come on Maya! Listen, we're both tired. We are both stressed out!! Let's just pretend this conversation never happened." He said with a smile and a nervous laugh.

I wanted to say to him, "Which part should we forget? That part where I asked for more money, or the part where I quit?" Those are the parts he wanted to forget about.

Buddhism asks that we answer the questions with positive energy. Bring calmness to calamity, bring generosity to poverty, bring love to hate. Sometimes it is hard to do those things, sometimes it feels downright impossible. With my boss I feel anger toward him, but if I wanted to be more compassionate to him I would have to really think about what is at the root of his anger. I would also have to recognize the things I dislike in him that are probably a part of who I am too.

He is controlling, so am I. He losses his temper quickly, so do I. His personality is edgy, so is mine. But he has moments of being generous, and so do I.
When I get sick, he doesn't want me to come into work, he wants me to feel better, and to take my time getting better. He loves his wife, and takes good care of her. He didn't get to pursue his original dream of becoming a musician, but he became one of the most profitable producers in the classical music industry.

One day, when he was feeling especially down and vulnerable, he said to me, "You know Maya, you and I are cut from the same cloth. We are the kind of people that make things happen in this business, but sometimes, I hate this business. It's too late for me to do anything else, but it's not to late for you."

Those words are the words of a man that never became of father, and I am a women that never had a father. Maybe that is why we are so sensitive to each other, we each have that element missing in our lives. I think my boss and I genuinely wish each other well, it's hard to admit to your weaknesses, but perhaps well being is about recognizing your strengths, which is what I wish for for all of my friends and family: strength, courage, and well being.

My So Called Life

(my beautiful friend Hauke)

Ama, Kat, Kelly, Karen and I loved the show "My So Called Life" in college.

I suppose because it held so many little warm moments that were romantic in simplistic ways. Like when Jorden held Angela's hand for the first time in the hallway, or when Angela would run and smile like she felt so free (or in love), or Brian's many awkward moments trying to express his heart to Angela and it coming out all wrong.

It's funny that living in a city like New York, you would think that those romantic simplistic moments wouldn't exsist here because everything is so fast paced, crowded, and overwhelming.

Like auditioning for a part in a play, people audition each other for relationships here in NYC. If you aren't quite what the other person had in mind you generally get a, "don't call us we'll call you" look. Dating for some can be brutal here.

Even with all that, I have found those simplistic romantic moments happen to me more then I ever would have thought possible.

I have these moments where I jump on the subway with a smile that spreads over my face so large that I can tell the other passengers want to know what special secret I am holding. Some of them smile back. Believe it or not, other New Yorkers rejoice in seeing others so happy.

Virgine (my landlord, roommate, friend) believes I should keep those special moments to myself otherwise it takes the power of that moment away from yourself. In a way- I agree with her. But sometimes, there are times I want all my friends to have a peep in what's going on behind the curtain of my life in New York.

I want you to know about me sharing ice cream on the couch with someone special at 2am; or walking around Chelesa at 3am hand and hand with someone; or visting a friend you haven't seen in a while- feeling the intensity of his stare asking, "How have you been? I have missed you."

As adults, I thought those moments of innocence would be gone, left only to my childhood. I was wrong about that. There are many moments of the unexpected: a soft voice saying your name back to you, a hand that reaches out to you unexpectedly, or looking at an old friend with new eyes.

Tagged (part deux)

I was tagged by Kat to write 8 random things about myself and to repost the rules...so here goes.

Rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and that they should read your blog.


1. Misspelled the word "hammer" in the 3rd grade spelling bee (I spelled it "h-a-m-e-r" it has haunted me ever since).

2. My first kiss was in the eighth grade by a guy by the name of Greg Cooper. It was AWKWARD...I just remember turning my head toward him and then teeth bumping into each other...ouch. I also had the world's longest crushes. I had a crush on Caleb Wheeler from the 4th grade to the 9th grade; and a crush on Dave Snyder from 9th grade until...um...until he got married two years ago- and then it was inappropriate!

3. If I am depressed I can actually (very easily) be distracted into the warm fuzzies by the following: watching either "Harry Met Sally", "Moonstruck", "Cooking with Nigella", or "Absolutely Fabulous" while eating popcorn. Reading any fashion or gossip magazine while eating Twizzlers; or talking to one of my lovely girlfriends on the phone...

4. I have never liked the way my legs looks. I don't own one pair of shorts...until this year. This is the first year where I have actually been very proud of my stems...:) the gym can actually work miracles.

5. I like to cuss...I really like the way those words feel. I think I was a truck driver in my former life. But now that my brothers are having kids I am trying to mend my ways. I have replaced most cuss words with "Dang" and "Shoot." It's Southern and it makes me more fucking lady like.

6. I like the funny...I am a Comedian junky. I think Comedians are genius. "Flight of the Concords" enough said...I would marry either one of them. Brilliant.


7. I want to take a family portrait of my family this year. We lost so much...and now my family is growing so quickly...I couldn't be prouder.


8. I'm a Hustler: I have skills to pay the bills. I can produce, act, write, drum, cook, dance, book shows, draw up contracts, and I make up my own rules...(I guess that's why I moved to NYC).

I would tag 8 other people, but Kat already tagged all the people I would have tagged!!!

xox-M

p.s. the reason I haven't been updating this blog as much, it that I am now writing for PM Buzz about my nightlife in NYC. If you would like to check it out- the link is below!
My Nightlife Blog for PM BUZZ.com

My Love, New York (for the Art Salon part deux)

photos by Koury Angelo

Last week I was standing on the corner of 47th and Broadway in Time Square with a man I had just gone on a first date with. As I turned to say something to him, he put his hands on my face and kissed me. It was a movie like moment until a few minuets later when he said, "I hate Time Square, I just don't get New York."

I knew then, it would never work out with him.

Perhaps I am guilty of romanticising New York more then Woody Allen, or maybe it's because I am a romantic person, but everyday, I fall deeper in love with this city. A city that I have begun to grow roots in.

I have never grown roots- anywhere, before here.

I was born in the mountains of Boulder, Colorado, moved to desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, grew up by the ocean in Sarasota, Florida, received my college degree in Tallahassee, Florida got my heart broken in Atlanta, Georgia, licked my wounds in Gainesville, Florida, and now I have found myself here in the bright lights of New York City.

Even in New York I have moved several times. Bushwick, Park Slope, West Village, Upper West Side, and now Chinatown.

When I went to meet a dear friend for brunch near Astor Place. I called him on his cell phone, I was lost. I told him, "I'm not exacty sure where the resturant is located." He said:

"Why not, you have lived in every square inch of New York."

When I wake up in the morning, and walk down to the B/D subway stop on Grand Street- I walk down the streets of Chinatown watching the men unload the produce off the trucks. The traffic is moving fast and its hectic. I walk down the subway stairs where hundreds of people are pouring on or off the subway cars. I feel the wind in the tunnels when the train is about to pull into the station, and it makes you feel powerful, to be strong in a city with so much chaos. It's almost mediation for someone like me that feels so much chaos on the inside, New York to me, is an equalizing balance.

These aren't the only reasons why I love New York.

The winters are hard here, and it makes you appreciate the Spring. Every year when I see the first buds on the tree I silently celebrate to myself- warm weather is coming back.

I have my best conversations with close friends or a lover while walking around New York's many little roads, and quiet streets, that are always waiting to be discovered by someone new. To discover them by yourself is wonderful, to discover them with someone you care about is magical.

If you are open, if you are brave, if you are willing to be on your own here, go at it alone, you will find just the opposite is true. You will find and connect with the very people your heart desires because they too took the once in a live time opportunity to live here, to struggle here, to find themselves here.

New York can be hard, because some have so much, and you can have so little, but, to be motivated, to be intelligent, to be talented here, with a little patience you can see your opportunities flower here- like you would never see in any other city. This is the gift this city gives you- it always makes you feel like no matter what your age is- you still have the opportunity to realize your dreams.

It is the city for dreamers, even more so for the doers.

Who You Are, Not Who You Were.

flyer for the art show, and Virgina and I late one night at the loft. photo by her man, Mr. St. Clair

This weekend Virgine hosted and artshow at her gallery "Chinatown in a Chinatown Gallery." I love when Virgine hosts an art show, not just because of all the fantastic people that come to her shows, but also for the fact that the party takes place next door.
All I have to do to get to it is walk up to the roof, crossover half way, and walk down the stairs to the art show below.

There is always a mixture of people from around the world, and of course there is always a heavy dose of the French language wafting through the gallery.

The conversations are always stimulating, and everybody looks great. She serves Absinthe, Chinatown pastries, and grapes and we walk around looking at the newest installations.

I went out six days out of seven this week, as well as working out at the gym every other day. I met with my trainer on Sunday.

He put me on the trade mill- and made me run...
I don't run.

"We have to get your heart rate to 168!" "Come on Maya! You can do it."

"I hate you..." I said, trying to break a smile, and trying not to fall on my face.

"If you want Hally Berry's body then you got work as hard as she does..." He said, clip board in hand.

For the first time in my life, I am not scared of working hard at working out. I go to the gym 4-5 times a week now. I watch what I eat, and I like seeing the changes on my body.

As I showered at the gym, I was thinking about tours I would like to organize, people I would like to manage, and festivals I would like to throw. I thought, "F*ck, I am a business women. When did this happen?"

I have always thought of myself as a creative person, and that business was the annoying side that I just had to deal with to pay the bills; but the ugly truth is- I like it...and sometimes, I even love it. I love producing, I love dreaming up an idea and making it come true; because to be a good or even great producer, you have to be the ultimate dreamer, you have to believe in your project and more importantly, you have to make other people believe in it. Convincing them that what you see in it- is worth it, even if they don't see it at that moment. I like that I can multi-task, take charge, and that people not only listen to me, but they also take me seriously.

As I walked home from the gym, I talked to Kev on the phone. He has become such a valuable friend, and really he feels like a colleague.

"You know Kev, I am thinking that I just have to accept that this is who I am now. You have to be who you are, and not who you were. You know what I mean?"

Kev laughed, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

I decided to go out that night by myself to write, and too outline specific projects I wanted to work on for Agent M. I went to a coffee shop, unfortunately they were closing within minutes of me getting there. So I went to my favorite bar across the street.

I was only by myself for a few moments before two beautiful Latina women sat next to me. We introduced ourselves, drank margaritas, talked loudly, and laughed alot. We were there for hours, each of us gave Jonah the bartender (yay! he's back!) a kiss on lips before we left, and exchanged numbers...

This is just one of the reasons I love NY. You can't be afraid to go out there on your own (which years ago, I would have been) because you never know the amazing people you are going to meet doing so.

The Ex as the Wingman

Last night Matt wanted to meet up for a drink before he went to California for his sisters Wedding. We bellied up at the bar "Welcome to the Johnsons" which is equidistant to from both our apartments and it's like $2 bucks a drink.
As we sat at the bar we both re caped our bad dates from earlier this week.
His, a girl that basically interviewed him was on a job interview:

"Where's your family from?"

"Do you plan on being in building restoration your whole life?"

"Smoking, is this something you intend to quit soon?"

Matt had buckled under the pressure:

"Cleveland."

"Not Sure.."

"Yeah, I think so, I don't know!!!"

My date was...disappointing.
After I had met the bass player the night before at his show, things seemed promising. He was sweet, intelligent, good looking, and a great kisser (yes, yes, yes, and yeeeessss). In between kissing in the doorway, next to the bar we gave each other bits of info on each other.

"You grew up in New Mexico, that's cool...." he said, kissing me again.

"Your Italian? Oh, I can see that..." kissing his neck.


"Do you still play the drums..." His hands on my face.

"From time to time." I said before four men on the other side of the street yelled "GO FOR IT!" and "CAN WE JOIN IN!"

Kissing continued in the bar, in the cab, in the elevator, and a for a few minuets at the hotel (get your heads out of the gutter, I'm a good girl, we were only there to get his bass).

And with a kiss good night and a promise for a proper date the next day, I was...pleasantly psyched...

The next day we agreed to meet up in Brooklyn were he lives and he was going to cook me dinner. This impressed me and I looked forward to getting to know him a little bit better, and uh, not in a bar.

He meet me on the sidewalk down from the train exit. He said he was exhausted and wasn't able to cook dinner, but asked we could go to this restaurant instead.

"Of course" I said. Still looking forward to talking to him.

It was apparent during dinner that he was tired. We ended up talking business (as is the occupational hazard of a music manager going on a date with a musician) for the next 45 min and then the meal came to an end. When the check came I offered to pay for my half.

"Good! He said, "I don't get paid until next week."

Call me old fashion, but when a women that you ask to dinner, takes the train from Manhattan to Brooklyn to meet you for your date- you pay for the dinner.

We walked outside, and I fully expected to hang out a little longer, perhaps changing the conversation to more interesting matters. No such luck.

"Man, I'm realllllly tired...Let's call it a night." He said leaning in to give me a kiss and hug.

I leaned away from him. "Oh, O.K. well, good night." I said, a little stunned by the abrupt ending to the evening. I began to walk away.

"Can I at least give you a hug?" He said.

"Um, I'm o.k." As I continued to walk away, with my back toward him.

"Let me walk you to the subway..." He said, he was trying.

"You know, I've got it. Thanks, and it was nice meeting you." I walked toward the Subway, disappointed with evening.

I sat on the Q train going over the Manhattan bridge and received a call from him. He didn't understand my abrupt departure, and wondered what he had done wrong. I appreciated his call, but If he didn't have a clue now, not much hope him catching on down the road.

Matt said to me, "He didn't know what he did wrong...hilarious. Man, some guys really don't have a clue. And why did he tell you all that stuff about cheating on his girlfriend on the road...keep your mouth shut dude."

Matt and I order a second round. He saw me looking at the bartender.

"You think he's cute don't you?" Matt said.

"No, well, a little. It's no big deal, aparently I have a crush on the world these days." I said drinking my margarita.

"He probably thinks I'm your boyfriend." Matt said.

"I know! Your totally cock blocking me!!!" I said jokingly.

"Oh, my God! Cock blocking Maya is BAD! I better correct that." and with that statement, Matt stood on his bar stool and shouted, "I just want everyone to know in this bar, that Maya is NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, I repeat, NOT MY GIRLFRIEND. We are JUST FRIENDS!"

And with that, I smacked my head.

"Damn Matt, you are the worse wing man..."

Good times.

Agent M Productions

I am launching Agent M Productions this summer and below is a little information on the project.
In typical "Maya fashion" I will throw an official launch party later this summer to celebrate the venture; but first, there is much work to do! Beso- M

Agent M Productions is a unique production house here in NYC that is made for you and me. Agent M exists to help make your projects come to fruition on a creative exchange basis only.

How will that happen?

It happens through service and talent exchange based within the New York community.

Call it “hippie philosophy” if you will, but we at Agent M did not want to hear “If only I had money, I could make this great project happen” from very talented people over and over again.

A couple of examples of how this will work:
· You‘re a graphic artist by day, but a screenwriter by night. You have written a script and have someone to shoot it, but need additional equipment or locations to shoot the script. Agent M will pair you up with people who have said equipment or location. From that exchange you would help those folks or one of our other artists design their website.
· Perhaps you have recently graduated from film school and are looking to build your reel? We have a brilliant wealth of talented New York actors and writers who have worked on and off Broadway that have short screenplays ready to go into production. This will help build your reel with solid credentials, while helping these actors get their work into production.

We are currently seeking submissions for projects to produce. We are also seeking board members willing to meet at least once a month to track the projects' process and who are also looking to get their own projects off the ground on a regular basis.

Let us know what you need to make your project happen, and let us know what services you could offer to another project. We will do our best to make sure the exchange is fair and works well for both parties.

If we pick up your project and work with you, we will advertise you on our website, along with putting the appropriate links to your page.

Feel free to email me with questions or comments.

Thank you- Maya
maya@agentmbooking.com

Agent M will seek and select several projects to work on each year.

Art Salon (part 1)

Tonight Virginie is hosting the first official Art Salon at the Canal Street Loft (although, every time Virginie holds a party, it pretty much is an art salon!)

She asked us all to write a little something on what we expect from Art. Kind of a complicated question (especial to answer in one page and under) but below is what I wrote:

What do I expect from Art?
I was sitting at a sidewalk café in the West Village on the first warm day of this spring. A man that I was seeing at the time and a group of his friends joined me at the café. As we sipped our Pilsner beers and Bloody Mary’s we ended up on the topic of art shows and galleries in New York City. There were four of us talking, “Big K”, “B” and “Blue Eyes” (as I like to call him) and me. Blue Eyes is a blue-collar worker, who works very hard for his father’s construction business. He seems very at ease with himself.
He leans back in his chair, pulls out and lights a cigarette from his pack. He inhales it deeply and says, “I never really got anything out of Art.”
Usually when someone says something like that to me I wince thinking- that’s like saying you never really got into music, or you really don’t like to eat food.
But even thought I have just met him, I like Blue Eyes; he seems to be a genuine person, not one to make a frivolous generalized statement. Blue Eyes continued, “But I saw this show the other day downtown…and it was really cool. If all Art was like that, I would like it.”
I asked him, “Why did Art never really appeal to you?”
He mentioned that the people he met in the Art world seemed pretentious; that they made it intimidating- is if Art only belonged to a certain class of people, mostly those with money. Sometimes it was simply that he did not understand the work, or he just did not understand what the big deal was about.
I absolutely understood why he would think that, especially if he didn’t know what went into some creative work.
I come from a family of artists, of people creating with their hands. I saw the work in that creation, the thought process, the end result. I watched, as people would interpret my grandfather’s wall size metal structures, or his religious theme paintings. I sat for him impatiently while he would paint me in sombreros all the while me whining, “How long is this going to take Abuelo?”
I asked Blue Eyes what he liked about the installation that he had just seen.
He said he liked the way it made him feel. He liked what he saw, he understood it, and he felt connected to it.
These are some of the things I expect from art: connection, a feeling, and that most importantly that it inspires me, that it saves me.
After a dark day- that fact that I know, someone has taken a chance to put themselves out there, nakedly, only because they wanted to connect with others, to show another way of communicating with one another, this to me is very holy, sacred, because it frightening to put your voice out there and hope that another human being with say, “Yes, I feel that same!” or more importantly “I never looked at it that way.” To receive a new perspective on something as adults, at a time when society had told us to stop growing, to settle- is thrilling. To be given by the artist another side of an issue, a turn of phrase, to see something like this can be transcendent.
I of course don’t just feel that just paintings or music is art. I believe that a human being can be art: messy, or fluid, with a strong amount of content, a constant fascination, with high pitches, or low registers. Sir Lawrence Oliver is one of those people to me that was pure art. The way he would take a beat, deliver a line, his body language. Charlie Chaplin, without words, but two fork and two dinner rolls created a magical world. Freddie Mercury could command the entire attention of Wembley stadium, with his vocal power, his overwhelming stage presences, making the audience lose themselves in his performance. Which brings me to this- I expect that art can also make me for a moment, forgot about myself and give myself over entirely to something or someone else, like falling in love.

Direction

After a late night of meetings and an awkward good-bye with my crush, I walked down 23rd street feeling a little lost, and really hungry. Nothing good looked open, so I went with the old reliable, a slice of hot greasy cheese pizza.

I got onto the N train in the Flatiron District to get back to Chinatown. As I sat on the train, a couple close to the age of retirement sat across from me- holding hands. They smiled at me, and I smiled back, that's when they started talked to me.

"Excuse me ma'am. Do you know the name of the stop we get off on to get to Staten Island?" The wife said, with a southern accent.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure, but I will look on the map for you."
As I stood up, bags and pizza in hand I try to balance myself as the train rolled on. I walk back over to them and tell them the stop.

"We sure do appreciate it ma'am." The husband said, he continued with, "We are from Montgomery Alabama and we have just found New Yorkers to be some of the friendliest people in the world. I am retired from the Navy, and I am staying in Navy housing on Staten Island. We sure are having a nice time here." I of course knew they were from the South, I know my people. We will tell you our whole story (whether you asked for it or not) and we definitely want to hear stories about you.

They told me this is the first time they had been to New York. I asked them how they have been handling the subways and if they have gotten lost.

"Oh, we're not worried about getting lost. Half the fun is finding your way." Said the wife to the husband's laughter and approval.

As I got off the train at Canal Street, in typical southern fashion, the wife said to me, "Thanks honey, see you around!"

Walking out of the subway station a women approached me. She looked distraught, she was lost.

"Do you know Wooster street is?" She said gripping her purse tightly. I could tell she wasn't from the area.

"Uh, I don't...sorry...um, I know it's close. If you know the cross street I would just jump in the cab." I said, trying to get home before my pizza got cold. The women didn't know the cross streets, and she had one of those pre-paid phone, and couldn't call 411. So I broke out my blackberry and helped her find her way. I didn't have a choice- she was practically following me home.

"Thank you, thank you. God, I felt so helpless being lost." She said, jumping into a cab to get to her destination.

I walked upstairs to my loft looked out the window at all the beautiful buildings lit up. Sometimes, I forget to look around and realize how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful city. I thought about my direction and how, I have never really planned anything...and if I have tried to plan, life somehow made it's own plans for me- like coming to NYC. I never knew I would have the good fortune to have moved here.
Right now, I am focused on my direction, I had to look back a little these past few months to look forward. Last night I stood on top of my roof and recited monologues from "Hamlet", "Twelfth Night", and "Richard III". Then went downstairs and danced for two hours. I don't know exactly where anything will lead, and I am o.k. with this. I do know I would rather have the retired couples vision about my life (and love) right now. "Half the fun is finding your way."

tagged...

(Me, drumming a CBGB's last year...I miss drumming...something I will fix very soon)


Kelly roberts threw down the gautlet in the form a challenge. She asked me and a few other girlfriends to list 7 quirky things about ourselves. I of course believe there to be more then seven quirky things about me (ehem...more like a few thousand)...but before I do that- I would actually like to list top ten list of things I love about a few of my friends and family. (For those I didn't list, I will of course do a part deux soon!)


Tonya Abernathy

I love me some abernathy!!!!
top 10 moments with abernathy:

10. Driving my car in ATL, spanking our cups of coffee from Aurora, because it was sooo good that is was naughty! (and yes I almost got into an accident...)

9. Her rollerskating herself into me in Little 5 points saying "Hi, I'm Tonya Abernathy!" She had knee hi rainbow socks and mass of curly hair...I knew we would be good friends from that first moment.

8. Almost peeing my pants watching her on stage sing "I heard it through the Grapevine" bout as good as Marvin Gaye.

7. Watching her jump over the table in a leopard bikini at a park event I threw, with a knife in hand to cut open a soccer ball that keep hitting girls in the head. Then throwing the ripped open soccor ball at the heads of the idiots that were kicking it...with looks of fear on their face.

6. Watching tonya laugh, it's the loudest amazing sonic laugh in the world.

5. When she threw a glass at my face (accidently) during a drinking game...seriously, this still makes me laugh.

4. When she bought me an N'Sync album (as a joke) and we made up a routine to "Bye Bye Bye" got drunk, and went to the coffee shop in ATL were our friends worked, hijacked the stereo, put the album in and proceeded to show everyone in the coffee shop our dance moves (to dropped jaws, and thunderous applause)

3. Going to a party in williamsburg, where there was karoke in the back. Tonya got on stage, sang "Purple Rain" and I watched people freak the fuck out! they were hi-fiving her, broke out their lighters, seriously, I saw tears...but then no one wanted to go after her...

2. She has a remedy for everything in a little bag, it's magical, you got a headache, she's got the cure, your stressed, she'll make you tea, you just want to chill and take a hot bath, she'll hand you a bar of soap..that she made...what?!?!

1. When Abernathy met my brother, he was sitting in the back of a van, she opened the door, and because she's so hot, he said "heelllllooooo...." she batted her very long eyelases and said " "hello there..." I yelled "ABSOLUTLY NOT, UH, NO!!!" And closed the van door on Mondrian.

Ama Reynolds

Part guru, part kitty cat.

10. Watching her walk across Landis green at FSU with her headsets on...she seriously didn't (and doesn't) know how hot she is. Our girlfriends would watch the boys bite their lips and look at her sideways checking her out and we would mouth "bitch" under our breath (out of love, out of love!!!)

9. Her collages. I used to love to watch her sit, cut, glue, these beautiful pieces of artwork together. She would do this to her journals, her desk, birthday cards...beautiful.

8. Watching her read her poetry at differnent venues in college. I don't know how she does it, but the way she puts words together...it's amazing, but that's one of her gifts...she is a gifted writer.

7. She can be both a mature focused brilliant women in one moment, then meow like a cat, and start giggling to herself 30seconds later, totally amazing.

6. She never judges anybody, even when she feels someone is a complete lunatic, she still, in her heart finds a way to forgive them and have compassion toward them.

5. Watching Ama dance at Einstines in Jacksonville FL. Her hair in he face and her hands in the air, fucking awesome. Also when she gets really excited she kicks out her legs on both sides- looking like a little windmill.

4. Talking about food with Ama. Seriously is a passion, we love food and even if we are in a bad mood, if we start talking about food we start hyperventalting with all the good food that there is in the world (omigod, Ama, when we are in ATL watching Abernathy sing, it is soooo ON! El Myr, Bluebird cafe, Flying Biscuit! Holy Sh*T!!!)

3. When I came home from the Doctors in college. I was going through a really rough time, and I got all my blood tests back, and I went to Ama's house and told her: "Well, the doctor say I'm normal, I am totally chemically balenced..." she said, "Oh god, that's too bad." and made me a cup of tea!

2. Ama total gets me. How many people can you say that about in this world? She's my sista from anotha mister.

1. Watching Ama cry everytime one of her term papers was due. She was like "I'm never going to get it done. I don't know what I'm doing!!! this is sooo horrible! I can't write!." And she got a f*cking "A" on every single paper. I started calling it her "rain dance" that she would only cry like that to make sure she got the A. Seriously it always worked.


Kelly Roberts

A force to be reckoned with!!!!


10. She had 20 pairs of brown shoes in college. I asked her why, she said, "I don't know, it's just a shade that make sense." What? I loved that.

9. Kelly also never judges anybody...but you know when she says your name like this "MAAAAYYYAAA...." you know that you have done something wrong, and that perhaps you should re-think what you have just done!

8. Kelly makes time to write letters. Really ones. The ones on paper, envelopes, she'll even buy stamps and sends them...how does she do this...I really want to know!?!

7. The fact that she changed her life direction at 30. She said, "I want to be an artist." AND DID IT!!! OH MY GOD. Seriously one of my biggest inspirations right now is Kelly "mofo" Roberts.

6. That she got married and didn't lose her identity (not that I though for a second that she would mind you!!! unforturnatly l have seen a few women do this), her sense of self has only grown stronger over the years, I admire that.

5. Her community of friends keeps growing at a rapid pace. At a time in our life where most people try and keep the comfort zone of those friends they they have had over the years, Kelly does that AND embraces multitudes of new friendships, new creative outlets, and new adventures (marathons! new artshows! road warrior!) what!?!

4.That something as simple as getting a new pair of (yellow...yes she has branched out) shoes or having her back tickled is enough to put a smile on kelly's face.

3. Kelly's philosophy, "Feel the fear, but do it anyway!" she never lets me slip, "Maya, don't you think your just afraid to be close to someone, and that is perhaps why you are pushing him away?" It always makes me go...."Ohhhh..godddd...you're right Kelly...."She is going to be such a great mom.

2. Kellys laugh. It's also HUGE. And she had many different types. There is the one where she screams before she laughs (that is my favorite one), the "HA!" then turns into a rolling laugh, and the small giggle that turns into a HUGH laugh....

1. She has the biggest romance for her life....this inspires me always.

Mondrian Contreras

I don't want to get to detailed on Mondrian, because he is my baby brother, and I will get all sentimental, so quick kooky things.

10. The fact that he says "Beef cake juice" when refering to his weight gain shakes that he drinks.

9. That he married the love of his life.

8. He looks like he can kill you, but his laugh, is well, kind of like a girls.

7. That made everyone "Soul train dance" at his wedding.

6. That when he was up for "Mr. Riverview" (his highschools version a beauty pagent) he dropped (on purpose) his name tag on the stage floor, so he could show all the girls in the audience his ass....I can believe he only won first runner up. He should have won that sh*t!

5. That he learned to ice skate and learn a song on the guitar...to impress his wife. WHAT MAN DOES THIS!?! Seriously....

4. That he sent me a riddle for me to learn that he and his wife were having twins. Causing me to scream at the top of my lungs- scaring the shit out of everyone at work.

3. That he and Matisse don't agree on...uh...ANYTHING yet they still debate each other on a weekly basis....

2. That he had every single Michael Jorden poster ever made. That's loyality.

1. That even though he was a full scholarship football playing in college, he still became an art major, graduated, and decided to go to vet school, got in, bought a house, etc. Really, seriously, impressive...if he wants to do it...he will. Dreamer and doer.

Matisse Contreras

Same thing goes with this brother...can't...get sentimental...will cry...tears~!

10. He's is completely unapologitic about his beliefs (ones that I don't agree with) but I love that even though he came from a liberally family he forged his own identity, and you can't hate on a brotha for doing that.

9. AMAZING DAD

8. AMAZING HUSBAND

7. Self made. Got his dream job, dream house, dream family...badass.

6. When he calls you "STUPID" it actually makes you feel kind of stupid.

5. That him and mondrian got into a HUGE fight over thanksgiving because mondrian forgot to buy whip cream...Matisse's wife Holly and I just watched in amazement...seriously the fight lasted for like an hour.

4. Matisse is one of the most sincere people I know.

3. That instead of buying new windshild wippers in highschool, he just put a sock on one the blades...yeah...this did not work.

2. That he once turned to me and said, "Sis, do you think I look like I'm getting fat?" I feel out of my chair laughing. IT was so vulnerable and sweet....and yeah, he was getting a little fat...(he's all steel know though!)

1. The first time I heard Justin say to him "Dad." It occured to me then. My brother is a man.

Kevin Scully

He's a new friend, but, dammit, why not.

10. He dances and sings while he is driving.

9. He is the ultimate pep talker. Seriously, if you ever need a pep talk call 1800 Kev Scully, cuz he will get you motivated to get some shit done.

8. He will crack jokes all day, but don't mess with him in business, he can email, text you from his sidekick, AIM, and talk to you on his cell phone all at the same time...muthaf*cker is bring some serious bat speed man.

7. He looks like he asleep (or drunk) in every picture I have ever seen him in; it's not his fault he was born with naturally "high" looking eyes!

6. I have never met ANYONE that talks (or networks) more then me EVER...thank god I have roll over min. on my cell phone.

5. He will call you on your bullshit. You can not change up the script with him, he will role back the transcipts on you. He might want to consider being a lawyer...

4. He has stories that involves "Dwayne Wayne glasses" and "Bad boy lunch table"...just one of the reasons he is my homeboy. He also has some sort of accent I can't quite figure out: part Jersey, part L.I., part hip hop, and yeah, just a little dirty south....

3. One of the first nights we hung out, while he was driving we sang "Cupid's Chokehold" together while his friend called us "lame!" and told us to "please shut up" this only made Kev sing louder and turn the stereo up.

2. He's never tried to impress me, or be something he's not. (which of course impresses me).

1. That he knows the different tones of my voice....scary....but really f*cking cool.


Matt Botos

10. The best cook I have ever met, he has cooked for Oprah...seriously.

9. The worse dancer I have ever met. While we were dating it made me cringe, now that we are best friends, I cheer him on!!! yeah! Go f*ck up the dance floor Matty!!!!

8. Badass musician, artist, sculpter, chef, writer, tour manager. He is the modern day Leonardo DaVinci, if Leonardo like to smoke out....

7. Matt can always calm me down in under two seconds. Usually saying, "Just take a little puff of this and a little drink of this..o.k. breath in and out maya....There you go...." Even when I have really freaked out before (um stress makes me a mess) he justs waits until I am finished and says..."You done? Cool." I fucking love that.

6. When I met him he was the worse dresser ever (braided belts and all his tee-shirts had holes in them), now he wears skinny suits out with a tie and girls are freakin' on that...he is getting more tail then a toliet seat at the Lilith Fair...

5. He speaks three languages fluently...Hungarian, English, and Spanish....he speaks more Spanish then I do...this make me jealous...

4. He loves his family and his friends. He is one of the most loyal people I have ever met.

3. He has THE MOST hilarious laugh. His laugh makes other people start laughing- and Matt makes everyone laugh...not because he is a clown (um...only sometimes) but because he is f*cking hilarious.

2. He is laid back about everything EXCEPT traveling. He takes road trips very, very seriously. Don't talked to him when he is mapquesting sh*t he might bite your head off.

1. Matt has four stages of drunkeness: stage 1. he's all smiles patting you on the back. At this stage you can still understand everthing he is saying. stage 2. he starts saying "i love you man." and other declarations...like "you are the coolest person I have ever met" and he means it. stage 3. he starts dancing randomly even if there is not music, he might start kissing strange girls at this point. stage 4. wakes up next day "um..so, did I make a jackass out of myself last night?" the answer usually is..."yes."

Ralph Cutler

10. Badass DJ. He will bring the muthaf*ckin dance party.

9. Best business partner ever. In the year we ran Agent M Booking together, we crushed it. Musicians and Managers across the US were saying to us "Rep us! Rep us!" We could not keep up with the demand. Word. Throwing parties with him is also a pure joy. As Melanie Griffith said in "Working Girls"...Ralph has "A head for business and a body for sin!" yay!!!

8. Ralph is the most soft spoken person I know until someone is about to start messing with him. As we sat on the beach in Miami- stressing over a party and dealing with one in particular EGOtistical artist- I watched Ralph go from cool as a cucumber to throwing his cell phone in the sand yelling "Go F*CK YOURSELF" as loud as anyone I know...yeah, don't fuck with Ralph.

7. I met Ralph in a coffee shop a few years ago. He was reading Burrows (or it might have been Bukowski). I asked him, "Are you a torched musician, or a writer?" He said "Both" and then we became soul friends.

6. He is the best person to have in a car with you on a roadtrip....and I should know. Together we have driven to Cleveland, Austin TX, New Orleans, Miami, ATL, Washington DC...I mean DANG. That was a serious road trip...he brings good music, great snacks, and enough good conversation to last coast to coast.

5. Ralph is also multi talented: DJ, Sound engineer, web designer, film maker, party planner, booking agent, label manager...he's bringing some serious music business heat!

4. Don't EVER let Ralph go hungry!!! Ever, he will start to go a little pale and then it's all over, he is either going to faint on you or have the worst mood swing you have ever seen...

3. Ralph is also a bad ass cook. He make me the best beet smoothie I have ever had. before Ralph, I thought I hated beets.

2. Besides Kev, Ralph is the blackest white man I know...brother's got soul for days! He's even been to Africa....

1. Ralph stresses out just as much as I do...except he doesn't take it out on anyone...he is like a quiet storm!


Maya Contreras

o.k. as promised kelly, 7 kooky things about me...

7. If I have a crush on guy...I'm about as smooth as chunky peanut butter, and lord help me if I actually really start to like them...it's the emotional equivalent me to falling down a flight of stairs screaming "Lord help me jesus!" I am also the clumsiest person I know (besides Ama). It is nearly impossible for me to look cool, because a second later, I will spill something on me, fall down, or run into a wall.

6. I also don't like tunnels (e.g. Holland tunnel, etc), I hate them...EXCEPT I love riding the subway and I live in a room that is 3 feet tall...which I also love...go figure.

5. I love my hair played with...maybe that's why I go to the hair dress all the time! but seriously...i lllooovvveeee it...

4. I like to sing and dance in front of the bathroom mirror (always have, always will)

3. I love to talk about making out just about as much as I like making out.

2. I'm loud. really loud. I was talking about a personal experiance at work in which i thought was a normal tone of voice. Apperently is was about as subtle as a stage whisper and someone from the COMPLETE OPPOSITE side of the office walked past my desk, smiled and said, "Well at least someone is getting some around here...." EMBARRASSING!!!!!!! but ooohhh sooo Maya.

1. I like to set my friends up...because I think that everyone should be in love (or at least getting some).

Turning down the Hustle a few notches.

The living room of the loft
My room before I moved my stuff in
the roof of my building...

I got sick for the second time this month. Maybe it's the fact the weather went from 57 degrees to 28 degrees and now to 74 degrees had some thing to do with it, or maybe it's producing the opera, the play, the television show, and managing of an international artist while working a full time job that did it. It could also be the late club nights that I have had lately that usually involve Mark, Anica, Nyree and I dancing until 5am, taking a disco nap and going to work two hours later, or maybe...

Or maybe, I have finally over done it. Laying on my couch in the living room of the loft, Kev makes fun of me in one of his text messages, "You need to introduce a cup of orange juice in your life...maybe turn down the hustle a few notches..." I laugh, then cough, sweat, then spit into my tissue, and crawl up into a little ball saying, "why god, why." Kev always makes me laugh. Our conversations are like highways that take the shape of cloverleaves, overpaths, and off ramps, you never know where they are going to go, but it's just fun to be on the journey.

I guess one of the good things about getting sick, is that all you can do it sit there, flip through bad gossip rags, stare at the ceiling (which is not hard for me since it is only two feet away) and think.

What did I think about? Turning down the Hustle.

Those of your that have know me since highschool (Christina and Chandra) and those of you who know me from College (ladies) know that my Hustle has always been turned up to 11. Starting a non-profit while DJing at the college radio station while double majoring in Theatre and Religion, minoring in Womens studies, taking dance class, and playing in a band...what the hell was I thinking! I was worse in highschool, started a club to help the homeless, played on the basketball team, was in a play ever semester, and worked a part time job (gotta have the cash flow for the car!). I am not the only one guilty of this (Kelly). We were both ordered to throw away our day planners because we had schedual our lives down to the min. in college. Atlanta is when things got out of control: the nightclubs, the party throwing, playing in bands, touring, throwing festivals, film events...ah, I'm not complaining...those were all fabulous times.

These past few days, I have been mostly by myself thinking about all of this. Walking around Chinatown, trying to enjoy the beautiful weather inspite of the flu, and thinking about how once again, I have stepped off the path that I had cut out for myself long ago: to live a creative life. When I get sick, I get vulnerable, and yeah, a little lonely. I think of all of my girlfriends, and wished they were all beside me walking through Chinatown. I think of you all at different points.
I thought about Abernathy when I passed a wheelbarrel full of ginger root. Because she loves ginger, and if she saw that it was only 75 cents a pound (fresh and golden), she would have bought two big bags and would've still been stuffin that sh*t in her purse. I think about Ama when I walk through Little Italy and pass all of the beautiful espresso machines, because Ama, like me, will risk a panic attack for a great cup of coffee, I thought about Kelly when I sat on the roof of my loft, because it was sunny out, the breeze was blowing, and I thought, this is what Kelly must wake up to in California, lucky lady...

I didn't mean to get away from working on my own things. I really do get excited about other peoples projects, and feel in some small way, that I can help. However, it's my fault if I over do it (and if I can't say "no" to picking up a project), they rarely put the type of stress on me that I put on myself, and most of you know, that lately I only come in three flavors: lightly stressed with a nice toffee coating, f*cking stressed out with pralines, and look-out stress (which means I might start crying or yelling at any min) with macadamia nuts.

It's time to stop the madness. Matt came over yesterday to take care of me. In classic Matty fashion, he brought me a can of Split Pea soup with Bacon, and two rolls filled with pork. Now Matt and I only dated for 4 years, but I feel that he would remember that I am a vegatarian. "Fuck" he said, "I swear I didn't do this on purpose." I know you didn't Matt. He made me a hot toddy (sans meat) and we went up and sat on the roof. It was dusk, a perfect night. We watched the planes fly over head, we talked about nothing and everything. It was very Wayne's World (me being Garth to his Wayne). He said, "Maybe, you could just be like this this summer, you know Maya, you don't have to always accomplish something, achieve something...you could just be for a little while."

That had never really occured to me before. Just be in New York City? Unheard of...So I will try, just to be for a little while, and write (and kiss), and sleep, no more picking up projects....for a little while. M

''The miracle of another human being''

(you can click on the photos to make them bigger!)

This past Thursday night in a small gallery in New York City, on West 44th street and Broadway, I had my first reading in many years. It was an excerpt reading from Virginie Sommet's "Only in New York Darling" in English & French. I read in English (of course) while Virginie read the excerpts in French (as it was originally written).

Virginie is simply an exceptional women. She is parts Andy Warhol, Bjork, and Simone De Beauvoir. A sculptor, writer, and performer all in one. On top of ALL of this she runs the loft that I live in- in Chinatown. It's part apartment, part bed & breakfast, part social gathering. Every morning I wake up to a flurry of, "Bonjour," "Bonjour, Ça va?" "Oui, Ça va, et toi?"

We each have our times when we can get into the bathroom and shower (mine is at 6:30am). Virginie wakes up every morning to put on coffee for the bed and breakfast, and we are generally greeted in the morning by her warm lush voice, "Good morning darling..."

In the mornings, I rush through Chinatown, to the D train, through a massive crowd of Asian people. Every morning as I turn down Bowery from Canal street, past the Manhattan bridge. A Chinese women holding tickets always asks me, "You want to go to Boston today?" and everyday I say to her "Work, I'm going to work." She smiles and says "Oh, ok!" I realize these are the only words she knows in English.

Friday was a blur, and Saturday was the art gallery show for Gary St. Clare (Virginie's partner). He creates artwork that captures the sexiness of a blacksplotation film, layered with urban street sensibilities, and a lush sophistication. With champagne in hand we all toasted Gary for both his great work and his birthday, where Virginie surprised him with six different types of chocolate cake!

I walked around the gallery with Marlon, a brilliant conductor with his own orchestra, "Ensemble du Monde" talking about working together on theatrical project and how we both longed for more free time and warmer weather.

Sunday- I made time for laundry and walked around the city looking for all black Converse. I find a small coffee shop to call my little brother Mondrian to ask him how he & his wife's pregnancy is coming along. They are expecting twins in the fall, their first children. He is calm, deliriously happy, and I tell him to talk to Bridgette's stomach and tell the twins I can't wait to meet them.

As I left the coffee shop and walked outside, there was a small snow flurry- it put me in a romantic mood. I came home, put on my new black Converse, laid in my bed, and put my feet on my ceiling. Yes, that is how small my room is. Length wise, a decent size. Height wise, another story. As I put my feet on the ceiling, I looked at the room and how Virginie had decorated it. The walls are a champagne color with twinkle lites. Some of my grandfathers painting rest against the walls and even though the room is small, it is warm to me and feels cozy. My mind turns to thoughts of someone that is quickly becoming more special to me with each passing day, suddenly there is ''extra push of color'' even on this grey day.
Conversation with him is voluminous, strong, and it flows. It's so mysterious how we all come into each others life. I can't put it any better then Craig Lucas did from Prelude to Kiss: ''Never to be squandered...the miracle of another human being.''
In the middle of my daydreaming, I get up and I hit my head on the ceiling, which I do constantly, (cussing every time I do it) and wait, patiently, for July when I move into the big room down the stairs.

The Struggle Between the Two

Over extended this month. I put my head down sometime in December, and put my head up and it is April. I have been running around town like a crazy person trying to get everything done and it just occurred to me yesterday...You can not have two meetings at once.
I have double scheduled myself twice this week and it is only Wednesday.
The other night, after going to the grocery store and getting my hair done, I ran into the liquor store to get a bottle of wine, when Sam (KR's tour manager) called me- "Maya, we just checked into the hotel room, we are on the way to the radio station now, did that show get confirmed in Atlanta?" As I tell him "Great!" and "Yes it did" the man behind the counter rings me up. I run out of the store, down the subway stairs, swipe my card, and realize that I don't have my Blackberry on me. As it is like a third arm to me these days, I realized it right away. I run back up the subway stairs, run down the street, praying that I left it at the liquor store, and that no one stole it.
Right when I walked in- the man behind the counter hands it to me.."You better slow down honey! You don't want to lose this." He says with a smile.

"Thanks! Thank you!" I say running back out of the store.

I really didn't mean to make myself this busy. It wasn't my intention. I just knew that if I wanted to make the kind of money that I want to make WHILE trying to produce and be creative all at the same time, that there is not much time for sleep and even less time for play.

Of course I tried to ignore all of that this last week.

After meeting KS the week before, I looked him up on Myspace. Sure enough he was there and 21!?! Oh god. What? There is no way! He didn't seem 21. God, when did I become a cradle robber?
This is the second time this year I have attracted someone under 23 (and have been attracted to them). Either they are mature beyond their years, or I am..ehem...immature beyond mine. I think I know the answer to that. Dang.
As Drew Barrymore said "I am a women in business and a child in relationships." I don't want this to be true, but apparently I don't know what the hell I am doing in matters of the heart.
I wrote him anyway. He has a great sense of humour, incredible sweet, and a warm laugh. "There is no harm in getting to know him" I say to myself.
We go on what I consider an unofficial date.
A date to me it is-well, when you make time to linger over dinner and talk to each other about each others lives. Not meeting at a bar for a 20 min conversation that the two of you had to schedule in in-between your other meetings (what KS and I did). We both realized that we live busy lives, that we have a few of the same interests (mostly music) and more importantly- we are attracted to one another.
Later that week we schedule a time to basically bump into one another- which we did. I was have drinks with Anica, Nyree, and Mark at Diva and he and his brothers friends were celebrating his brothers birthday at the next door pub.
The evening started with good conversation, followed by a long drive around Manhattan (we both didn't know how to get to the L.E.S. in a car- subway yes. Car, no.) topped off by dancing (which he is great at), ending with a marathon kissing session (which he is even greater at) in the vestibule in front of my apartment building.
I went to bed that night (um- morning) with a smile on my face at 5am, only to be woken up by the one man that can wipe it off at a moments notice- The German, who calls me at 8:30am.

"Hi D." I said still half a sleep

"What you did last night? You still sleepin'?" He said in his German/Bronx accent.

"D, not all of us are German and wake up on a Saturday morning by 8:30am."

"Did you get my text last night?" He said.

"Um..no, I didn't see it." Of course I did, but it was 3am, and I was dancing with KS, I didn't want it to change my good mood. "What's up D?"

"You want to get brunch with me? In an hour?"

"D, that's not brunch that's still breakfast, how about 11am."

"Ok mamita. See you at 11am."

D and I have been dancing around each other for three years. I swear, every time I am about to start crushin' on someone else- he calls, he texts, and he emails. He knows that I won't be as available to him (and lord knows- he's never been that avail to me).

We meet at Astor place at 11am, well 11:15, I am always running 15 min behind these days. He looks beautiful as per usually. He comes over and gives me a long hug, he never does that.

"You alright D?" I said rubbing the top of his shaved head.

"Yeah, I'm 'aight. Let's go eat."

I see the tattoos around his writs, he has fully sleeved arms, legs, his back is fully done, he reminds me of the Berlin wall, only in the three years I have known him, I have never been able to tear down his wall.

We sit across from each other smiling, he wants me to do all the talking- "I thought you said I talk too much?" I say to him. "I never said that, I like when you talk. Tell me something new."

"Wow, you are being way to agreeable today- what's going on?" I say reaching out to touch his hand.

I sense his loneliness. I love D. I'm just not in love with him, not anymore. He senses that. We sit on a bench after brunch and I hold his hand. He scares me sometimes, his moods, how deep they run, how quiet he gets. I make him laugh, we talk about work, we talk about the future, we know we always want to be in each others lives, but not as lovers anymore, just as friends- too many complications if we tried to go back there. Graffiti artists are notorious bad boys and he is not exception to that rule. We are passing ships to one another. When he meet me, I had a long term boyfriend, when I broke up with Matt, he has a serious girlfriend, when he broke up with her...our patience with each other had wained.

I walk him to the train. He leans against the shell of the Astor place subway stop, he waits for something. I don't know what, for me to say something, for me to hug him. I lean in an give him a small kiss good-bye.

"I'll call you." He says as he starts to walk down the subway stairs.

"I know D." I just never know when, and I need just a bit little more then that.

Highlights and Highlighters

Paul had given me the script for the pilot "The Bridge" to look at over a week ago. He told me to look over the lines and that we would have our first read through in mid-April with the rest of the cast. I have been carrying the script around since then- without fully over looking mine lines. I don't know, for some reason, I have been a little apprehensive about getting back into acting. Acting was the only thing I ever really wanted to do with my life when I was a child and a teenager. I used to have a bag full of highlighters to- well- highlight my lines. It was one of my favorite parts about the process (besides the stage blocking, and costume fitting). Sitting quietly somewhere and highlighting each line while reading them silently to myself- this is what I thought I would do the rest of my life.

But right now, my life is full of meetings (about KR's tour, about "The Bridge" pilot, about me co-Producing the stage play "Bayard" by Laura Eason and Paul Stovell, about contracts, etc). I finally felt like the candle burning at both ends. I knew I wasn't getting enough sleep when I starting nodding off on the subway on the way home on a regular basis.

I decided it was time to balance a little more and allow myself more of a social life (and by that I mean, really social, not networking social, which I do all the time, but social-social).

The Friday before last I went to a, what I would call- kind of a "nightmare" club. As I waited outside for some of my friends to join me (they had a friend celebrating a birthday there) I heard the words, "Hey bra!" "What's up bra!" about hmmm, 45 times. All of them with stripped button up-shirts, slicked back hair, and chains. The hi-fives were out of control.

"Wha?! What the hell?!" I said to myself waiting on James.

James finally arrived with his entourage of beautiful women...giving me a long sorted explanation of why he was late. "Why are we here?" I asked him.

"Honey, I have know idea. You know I don't do Ghettorich, and this club is definitely Ghettorich."

Inside, we went upstairs, only for me to be surrounded by a few guys (in stripped shirts, with chains) who came up to me to talk. One was nice, still not my type, while his friend was kind of a jack-ass-sidekick. James saw that I needed to be rescued. "Not your type honey?" He said with a smile. He saw me looking at a guy in the DJ booth, behind the DJ. He has shaved head, nice lips, hoodie on. "Oh, I see, that is your type."

As James walked to the DJ booth a man named Paco came up to me and said (in third person) “Paco loves that pink dress you are wearing, Paco would like to see you in a lovely white dress, may Paco buy you a drink?”

I said “Yes, Paco my buy me a drink.”

Just then the man I was looking at in the DJ booth was talking to James, I don’t know what James said to him, but he starting walking toward me,

“Hi my name is KS, I hear you are in the music industry” he put out his hand for me to shack. Big smile, very polite.

“Yes, I am.”

“Nice, so am I.”

We talked for an hour, leaning against the wall, smiling and laughing; KS seems to be a genuinely happy person, as well as a genuine person. I was more surprised how sweet he was, especially since when I looked into the booth he knew all the words to Biggies songs and looked…well, kinda hard. He has beautiful blue grey eyes, and a great smile.

One thing I noticed though, when guys are available, they usually try to put their hand on my waist, or ask what my situation is (e.g. “do I have a boyfriend”). KS did not do that, which made me realize, one of two things- either I am not his type (nope, I know I was- because he was leaning in too close!) or he has a girlfriend…yep, that what it was.

“You’re looking a me different now.” He said after I asked him about it.

“No, I’m not.” I know how complicated things can be.

He still asked for my phone number, and as I walked away, I saw him looking at me. Hmmm...I wonder what will happen with that.

The next day I woke up and picked up my script. I grabbed my laundry, and went down Canal street trying to find a laundry mat. I walked in, asked for quarters, put the first load in and then sat down.
I opened my scripted, took out my highlighter, and highlighted my first line for the first time, in many years. It felt really good.

J'adore

Cédric and I
Gary St. Claire & Virginie

One of my roommates birthdays was the other night- Cédric. We went to the Blue Owl on the Lower East Side for a little "rock and roll dancing." Which of course I didn't know what the hell that meant; but apparently in France, when you say "rock and roll dancing" it means fifties swing dancing, and Cédric is AWESOME at it. He swung me around like a rag doll, so much so that I had a laugh attack and had to lay down in a booth and get it together! Good times, good people, and good cupcakes. M

Hot Sauce on Napkins (and Chinatown)

I moved to Chinatown last weekend. Canal street between Elizabeth and Mott. Why have I moved AGAIN this year (yes, three times in 12 months- no, I am not on the lamb). It's a classic story of boy meets girl in restaurant in Gainesville, boy and girl move to NYC, boy and girl break up (but remain the best of friends). Girl moves in with gay boyfriend, gay boyfriend falls in love with, well, gay man, and decide that girl should move so they can create gay love nest.

So that's why I moved to Chinatown. I now live in a lovely loft with with four lovely French people, one is an artist, one is banker, one works for a french airlines, and the last works for one of my favorite fashion houses.

I have already had many long conversations with them about French culture, the differences in dating here in America and dating in France (which apparently there is no word for "dating" in France. You become very intensely and exclusively involved out there is, well, a good roll in the hay!).

I live in what can only be described as a cubby hole. My room is small, but the location, and the roommates make it worth it. I will move into the bigger room in July...

This month has been usually stressful...and exciting. I suppose those two things can go hand and hand. The stress has come at me in waves. I am finding the need to work on my own projects. I like some of the trappings that come with my job (health insurance, good connections in the entertainment world, and free tix to Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, The Met), but it is also just a nine to five job, that's routine can run anyone down. I find that I don't mind routine- getting my coffee from the corner store, eating my banana and bagel and reading the paper at my office before my boss comes in (or calls me). But, I also like when the unexpected occurs, when my routine is interrupted by something-exciting, like all of the theatre and tv projects I am working on now, and managing my own artist. There is no room for boredom, there is barely time for sleep.

I am fiercely focused in my professional life, I just need to leave room for enjoyment (and relaxation).

Which brings me to, well, eh-hem- boys.

I was dancing the gay bar G with my friend James. As we danced, we were surrounded by gay men asking me "Girl, what are you doing in this club! You need to be out there letting some straight man buy you a drink- or a house!"

James came to my defense, "if you only new my girl, she needs a night off from straight boys."

James grabbed my hand and sat me down. He said' "Maya, do you know what you want?"

I said "Of course! I am producing Paul's play, I am working on his TV show, I am developing a script with you, I just got K's tour going, things are great at my job..."

James interrupted me, "You know I am talking about Maya...Men."

"You mean 'Boys?'" I said.

"Yes, honey. What do you want from these...Boys?"

"Well...I..." I looked at James looking for the answer.

"Honey, this is what I am talking about, if you don't know what you want, no wonder these poor men are so confused that are coming up in your life right now. They see this fierce women, with all of this power, and you looking at them like...hmmm...what I'm I gonna do with you. You are TOYING with them!"

"I am not!" I looked at James with a smile, "I don't think so, I don't mean too."

"Maya, you need to find a man that is going to hold it down for you, but until you recognize that...well, you are going to keep attracting.."

"Boys" I said.

"Boys honey."

I know its true. James is like my therapist, dance partner, and wise sage all at the same time, he can also bring a whole room to their knees with laughter.

So special.

This past few months, I will admit, there have been a couple of boys, a few man/boys, perhaps a man. I don't know. I am not sure what I want. I do know that I don't want to live with another man again for a long while, I don't want to do their laundry, tell them to take care of themselves. I like lying in my big bed at a diagonal (which I have been doing lately).

I like kissing. I know that. I think I am looking for a good kisser.

Yes, I know, just attracting a good kisser does not me domestic bliss, but it sure make me happy!

I found the BEST kisser this past weekend. The best I have had in quite sometime. Big lips, nice eyes...yummm....

He is a total mess though. As a sat on the couch, he put in the movie bottle rocket, and begain to jump around spastically about how good the soundtrack is (well, it's true). Then I watched him tell stories while he stood up in his living room, he paced the room. It was like he was staring in his own one man show. He does comes from a Hollywood family, he was a model, and now, he is a lost soul.

I total him, that he was a "hearty plant" you know, thrives in the darkness and doesn't need much water. He said, "Yes!!! but I am not a cactus, I need more water then that...but, if I am a cactus, I am a cactus with flowers."

He was really sweet. Dreamy, he is in his own world, it looks like a fun world, you just don't know if you will be invited to play or observe.

The other boys have been fun, but have provided much too much drama, the one from France proved to be to young, the German has proven himself over and over again to be an obstacle course with the occasional land mines, and the Swede, Jesus, has proved to be more of a headache then the rest. That's my fault. I am the one that changed the scope of our relationship. I sat with him last night on the Lower East Side eating pizza he said, "You know why it is hard for us to be just friends Maya?"

"I have know idea, K, why don't you tell me?"

"Because I am like this napkin, plan, simple, safe, nothing threatening, and you" he grabbed a bottle of hot sauce, "are like this hot sauce." He starting shaking the hot sauce all over the napkin.

"There is nothing safe about hot sauce, but it make everything, spicy and taste a bit better."

He was clearly drunk.

And with that, I hugged him, put him in his cab and walked back to my house, walking past the Manhattan bridge, down Canal street...thinking about hot sauce.