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.