Again, why go to NYU? This directing actors class took place on the 15th floor of an old church turned university hall… as the photo above shows, it’s a meeting of the daily life and worship. God and coffee. The professor, he was the gentliest man, just the kindest person, and it was so healing, though I couldn’t help but be defensive to his genuine gentleness. He has a process where he speaks to the actors individually, together, and he does a good job at asking questions without making you feel like he’s directing you, he’s asking you questions, curiously. He was present, positive, and reverent towards the actor. I was waiting outside with my scene partner as he was having a session with the director, and I got to know her a little better, she got to know me. She told me she’s — in the light of stained glass windows on the bathroom door, so the space was a meeting of grit and spirit, that she’s assumed her job, as a stripper, and her parents don’t know, but she found it empowering as someone who has experienced “SA,” she used an acronym for sexual assault to buffer it. She let me in…once again, probably a little deeper than she thought she would as I tend to have that effect on people. Everyone seems to look at her, she says, and cast her as a stripper. She gives that off, me, I don’t know what that means. As we stared into each other’s eyes for a long time the first rehearsal, I sensed energy, something I couldn’t place, a dare, a mystery, but I didn’t think that. As the next actors were rehearsing behind us, I said, “well apparently, I give off psychic…” Her face lit up, “are you?”
“I don’t know, do you think psychic when you look at me?” I told her a little about what happened to me the past decade. She said, “you seem very intuitive…” uh huh, “what do you mean?” She said, “you’re easy to talk to… it’s easy to open up to you…” okay, that’s not intuitive. But I have the ability to make someone feel at ease, and I have a natural ability to connect with people. How that makes me intuitive, that’s the question, but there you go… there’s a vibe I give off that people can’t quite describe clearly… and it’s rooted in an innate sense of someone you can open up to… I resonate safety, trust, okay. As the lovely young woman, as I do not — remembering that a shaman believes I am a shaman — believe in hierarchy or judgement. I do not care that she’s a stripper. I wondered if people do… people do treat her differently, but she loves what she does. I do not care about “the mask.” Chest out. I do not care about the lifetime. The path you are on… I’m laughing at myself. I do not look above or below a human being but rather — in the eye. So there’s a little of my expansive quality, pulling up my pants… but it goes to show that she thought I was intuitive based on the natural flow… that someone can feel… not exactly intuitive. I’m not picking up on her. She FEELS that way.
This very kind directing professor, he sat beside the directing student for one section of “the work,” remembering this exchange, he’s moving his hands, guiding the student. And she tried to dig into my personal life, like, did you ever feel, on stage, basically, in front of the class, like you were totally alone… “yes.” Recently? Yes. And the guide is there, friendly gentle directing professor, to gently remind her that “she’s telling you something personal and then you switched to the character a little too fast…” and so, I felt my own defenses arise, because that time —the past few years — it’s a touch too close, but it allowed me to open up. This directing professor had a wonderful note for me — about the exchange. He asked me to let it go, I know my text, I know my backstory clearly, and now, just concentrate on her… take in the space… and I ended up coming out of that class feeling much clearer…in the end, he slipped in with a smile, if we could do it one more time, “there’s just one more layer…” which is, the genre. “In the end,” which was missing from the backstory, which confused me a little, “maybe she invests a bit in this dream… Cinder-fucking-rella… because it means the fairytale might be possible for her…
So I’m “intuitive” but no one understands what that word means, there’s something that feels intuitive about me, like I’m drawing someone out of the other… now, if I can learn how to embody the ROOM like that, that would be ideal… and look, I’m coming out of a very dark period, so just learning to breathe into the exchange, I feel as though I always try and LOOK at the person and respond to them… but when I was walking up to the church at Colmubia, a group of students were hanging outside, and they all greeted me so warmly, like, “it’s you, I loved your audition…loved you…” and you know, I know they’re students, but it felt HONEST. They genuinely told me, before I can even act, really, that they enjoyed what I did. Not to say I haven’t gotten compliments as a writer, but none of them felt manipulative, for one, they felt normal, and they just said they thought I was talented at that. We’re not in some YOU COULD BE mindset, you see. Not before I did anything either. I walked into church feeling… in my element. Secure. Excited. I think I did a good job, I feel as though I can communicate nuance, complexity, I have craft, and now I get to let it go and work on just being there… I still have nerves, but I felt as though I moved through those after doing the scene a couple of times — that basic block is gone. Now I have to keep learning how to read scripts, read between the lines, think genre, if I don’t know, I got solid ideas as to where I might find the answers…
My scene partner and I got into a dashing elevator, and we ended up in the church, and so we admired it, I took pictures of what was holy and banal, and I just got back. Personally, I got in touch with just how broken I felt, so it was healing to be handled with sensitvity and care, someone who was obviously just in the room and trying to be kind to me and asking questions, rather than directing me, so he has a style, though he did wonder, “what’s the space like,” of course, how are you responding to it? Right. I worked out the cobwebs. So I hope they’ll keep calling me in to do these classes because it was educational. I had a chance to keep letting go and be in the space. So, who knows, that’s really the truth… leaving her on the subway…
Who knows? I have no idea what I can do from here, and I know the unknown is triggering, except that’s really the truth. What I do know is, I’m going to create my own work, that makes sense, and she has an idea too, and I wonder if she’ll ever do it. I think that’s the main difference. Again, I don’t know what to say about people’s paths, but I have seen people who have made their own work… as a means of breaking into the industry. I’m older, stuff like that. And I’m just trying to make it as easy as humanly possible, it’s me — playing a call in psychic. I was starting to think about potential problesm, but maybe there’s a creative solution, as there always is. But I can feasibly call JOSE, and say, I need this, this, and that. That’s it. Film this. Please. I hope to do it again.
I gotta go get my two plants, I’m getting more plants. This woman is selling all her plants, and I only want to be with the plants. I wanted a big palm but it weights 30 pounds. I can’t gauge how heavy that is. I got two less heavy ones, and I hope I just bought two lamps from the Upper East Side, wink, nice. Floral. I liked these. 1950s.
I think I’m going to get a adhesive wallpaper for my desk nook, though these lamps might change which one, but I think electric blue against black, I don’t know yet. I’m just getting pieces I like and building over time. I thought a bright blue shade. I don’t know yet. But it fits with my graphic garden vibe. I’m just going to get more and more plants and I’ll begin to spread into the living room… the first thing I gotta do there before I hit these… bathrooms, you guys, whoever is reading, these bathrooms need TLC, I’m going to have to scrap the heat pole, I’m going to have to deal with these tiles. Something. But first I gotta put a fresh coat of paint on the walls, and it’s a three bedroom, so it’s a large apartment to paint as one person… and I have to tackle one piece at a time. I’ll repaint the hallway to my room and then I’ll do the living room and kitchen, and I’ll do the other hall… I’m just renting… maybe something will happen and I’ll move again, who knows, but if i’m going to stay here a while, I’ll spruce it up. It needs better curtains, mirrors to bounce light, it’s a “woman’s touch…” Anyway, I hope those look nice, I can’t tell sometimes.
The other thing I’m going to try and do once I get my money sorted, I hope I get these couple of jobs I’m applying for, I’ll go back to gymnastics… and try to master a move. I took some years off, so I have to work up to it again, but I’m going to apply the same thinking I’m utilizing in general, which is just simply getting over the fear. I’ll spend some time on a trampoline, getting air, working on my tuck, staying present, and I’ll work from there. flipping. Do a flying cartwheel. I’m going to go back when I can and try to reach a goal. Chelsea Piers, we meet again… with the ghost of Barbara Harris, (I’m laughing), this time.
I’m going to get a tack board so I can do what Sean, a psychic, told me to do… which was get notecards as he watched me struggle to structure anything, he just sat there and watched me look at notecards… “put it down…” but I’m going to try and put up the scenes I’ve figured out up until this point, for EPIC, and see if I can break ground that way. For the moment, I can tell you in advance, that no one is going to understand when it became a lie, and I assure you as I continue, as was my experience, you’re not going to know wtf is going on… it doesn’t look good. And so, do I describe the death match I was in… with anybody? I’m not sure, yet, since rage was an essential step for me. I don’t know what the structure is. But it would seem intuitive, yes, you see, to question the lie… except I think most people are going to go, “wait what?” But I’ll let that be. Graining away from that. It’s just, I feel everyone except anyone I know, unfortunately, is on my side…
So how to describe a break down of this nature? So this is what happened… I woke up… I would think that’s what I would do, unless I keep it tight on our relationship, since it’s a story that’s between me and Angelica Leibowitz, a real opponent, psychologically. She was a Boswer. A monster I had to defeat. I was going to collapse, really, and it was a simple question… that came to mind… which was, if this were my child, what would I do? Fuck the wise phrases, “he didn’t mean it maliciously…” now that one, that necessitated a whoopee cushion. A strange pose, maybe a little relief… funny face. I had to reject her.
So, this is about the investigation I launched, undercover of course, when I was nine. So, at the time, it was… learning, fascinated to strange logic behind a story like that, using my mother, a working hypothesis of mine at the time, as a mirror. She reflected the truth. So I don’t know for the purposes of this story…what I should do, because something has to change, and I’m trying to stay tight on the game, tight on her, I’m trying to understand her…and I don’t know, when we get to the spectacles of playing for my father, and she said she didn’t want to send me to foster care, you’ll see what I mean, how much truth was reflected. I don’t know what to do with it, I like the idea. Beverly Hills Tennis Club, this amazing Brazilian mother, and I’m investigating this scandal I was in… I might end up just needing to transition to — wait what? Was it true? Maybe that’s the end. Man, when he took me home, my father, to mirrors being smashed off the walls, and our conversation…ended on, “she was jealous?”
Please!
Of a four year old? Shocking. I heard my voice, I broke down, “I don’t have a room…” I didn’t have a room. What do you do with that? That feels slightly off topic, like maybe I should stay tight on the tennis club. I don’t know if my conceit is totally working for me, or it’s making my life more complicated. But I like the idea of my undercover investigation at the club, Angelica Leibowitz my opponent, savior, and a girl’s desire to figure out if this happened to her mother… trying to understand her. Maybe after the happy go lucky dances for this man at the door…I should…move into… was it true? Angelica, in a total shitshow, just decides it’s not true, because Dr. J is a liar. Okay. Based on nothing, in other words. That was shocking, coupled with her asking me at the club “Was it true, or it wasn’t true was it?” Casually. Truly. And as an adult, by the time I got there, the story… wasn’t the same.
“You weren’t sure?”
Which changes the DIMENSION of her play here.
And then, she said she wasn’t sure about how my mother handled me…
Waking up to all this? “Excuse me?” And I got some asshole talking to me about “realiable narrators?” NOBODY asked a question. It was a goddamn nightmare.
I have to figure it out. I just thought the location of the Beverly Hills Tennis Club + some kid investigating a sex scandal she was just in, as it was a situation that also included arranging schools… just the image of Dr. J’s limo… ascending the hill of Lycee Francaise de Los Angeles… absurd. And you see, why do I remember…a chocolate bar, for example, it’s okay, I can talk about it now without YEARS of being SHUT DOWN. Where am I? I remember a post it from my father with a chocolate bar in it, because of my report card… so why? Was I home again? Where did I sleep?
Shit like this.
And then, I remember waking up at some deranged Christmas party…where Dr. J is dying in a single bed, the one that was supposed to be mine, I didn’t see my father all evening. I didn’t even think of getting him… so I don’t know what to say exactly because — I have no idea what this was. In the car, when I interrogated my father, he didn’t mention that I was home sometimes. And presumably we’re putting on these spectacles… and then I go home a few times? Ever want to punch a woman in the face? Dr. J. Can someone explain? I cannot even look at a picture of my parents.
So what do I do… and the assholes in my life, excuse the language, who talked to ME as if they KNEW what this story was without ASKING a question. I could SMASH all their windows…in a cool way. Just blast them out — in one motion. And like, I feel better and better over here. What that MEANS? I do not know.
What would the EPIC guys say to me? Is it cool that some PI psychologist… decides to do this… I adjusted it to be more about…figuring her out. I conduct a psychological experiment on lying over the impending release of Mortal Kombat IV. You see something is wrong with my father… the question is WHAT? And thn I go into his phone call, the happy go lucky dances… the spectacle of all this to ENYA, of course, because I might as well make a statement. Let the Brazilian Jew sportstars show us what they can do… we will turn the foyer performance into something truly spectacle starring Jose Leibowitz. And from there, BREASTS at my door, she says, and I tell you of Dr. J’s appearances… the money runs out… I just don’t know what the switch is… because NOBODY, I believe, is going to know what to do…
He doesn’t APPEAR innocent.
So maybe I should get to a point… and figure out what to do… because who gives a shit about my undercover investigation? Imagine? if your child was investigating this? I mean, “are you interested in forensics?” Looking at myself. If it’s about psychology, then my break down makes sense, since, I get the feeling that everyone is following me… is it true? I just don’t know how to structure this, because they are dramatic writers… not to say it can’t work, but that’s a “good twist,” was it true? Except in this case, it’s a twist for me… do I let go of the investigation? Or just have some bridge scenes there. Like, start at the club… just go into it… and cut back where I need to…
I’m going to leave, get my plants, order my board, and just stare at notecards… I want to crack it. I feel like I can’t do this, and it’s driving me crazy. For the moment, I’m sticking to the club. I want to sell it as an EPIC kid, going undercover. I just don’t know if I’m supposed to stay at the club… channel rage… the love songs…
Just picturing a racket smacking the ball to the guitars in Power of Love. That song cued my exit. Whenever you reach for me, fists, I’m gonna do all that I can… and we end at the best party on earth, somehow… with Brazilian Jews, the Jews in attendance—amazed. They were the most moved by what they were seeing, this was important, and they didn’t even know why I was there.
As I go along, I imagine what needs to go, will go, and I’ll figure out how to do it language wise… I guess, because my experience at one point, it was practically shamanic, in that, the realization I had that he didn’t KNOW what was being said, you see, it kept disappearing as a thread… wait! My whole world collapsed. Hanging onto dish soap, in my mind, in their kitchen. Needing to rapid fire through “she said he said, it happened!” I went through a whole event. Why am I home? It was horrific.
So maybe I’ll break form… somewhere in there… and right now, the lambada, it’s pretty central, as sex even became good, imagine? And they were Jewish, too, so what do you do…with what can really happen to a person? And the lambada was born from oppression, so it’s a dance of liberation. I’ll keep figuring it out.