3 Things That have Always Been

Things about me that have always been and will probably always be.

1. I’m scared of bathrooms. Be it private or public, mine or a friends. I think this dates back to 80’s horror films and “Bloody Mary” stories. The result you ask. I had a kidney stone by age 23. You do the math.

2. I am terrified of flying. Why do you think I took the Queen Mary over? The heights, small quarters, bad food, security lines and only one take on! (I just scared myself, excuse me.) I’ll drive, swim, crawl, float but I won’t fly. (Until Jan when I have to.)

3. I sleep like this…
Yes out of fear it began and a habit it became. My blanket will protect me from ghost, angry or vengeful, pirates, holiday characters that creep into your room, tooth fairy, and burglars. (They cannot burgle what they can’t see! Or so I thought as a small child. A very big small child apparently as this photo was taken not even a year ago.) So this sadly was not staged it is a fact. A pitiful one but GT took this one morning when he rose early. Do not fret my pets he paid for it dearly. Lesson learned: Magical blanket can protect against a lot of things but not a joker boyfriend with a camera.

Dumb Luck

The universe has a funny way of working out. As you may remember I lost 2 pounds (4 dollars) to the bus machine a few days back. While in Starbucks I dropped 10p (.20 cents) on the ground but as I picked it up I found 5 pounds (10 dollars). Thank you money fairy and for paying me the one pound interest. Now could you do something about my student loans? I really would appreciate it.

Searching For

A LIST OF THINGS I CANNOT FIND IN LONDON...

1. A mailbox (to drop my lovefilm dvd into. That is not outside of a post office. I dont live close to any.)

2. Bagels (of multi flavors, preferably chocolate chip or onion please)

3. Cream Cheese (that is not Philadelphia)

4. Coffee Creamer (I can't find any and I looked in five diff grocery stores. What is up with that? Yet there is a Starbucks on every corner? Come on. I know you drink coffee here people so spill the beans!)

5. The name of the street I am on (when I am in the middle of it and not just at the end of the block, which are longer here then in NYC.)

6. A three ring binder. (I asked a store clerk if they had any beside the two ring. He looked at me like a I had two heads! Why do stupid things like that have to be diff? - called mom she shipping me some from Florida.)

7. Friends (Be them fake or trashy. Any would be welcomed)

8. Sanity (preferably my own. Read 1 - 7)

Of Course!

Every time I buy an apple product, as soon as I leave the store happy with my investment, they come out with something even way cooler and sell it for the same price as the now out dated product I just bought. Never fails.
Now my friends it has happened yet again! I go out and update my 4 year old ipod (thinking what more could they come up with. I'm sure it's safe.) So I get one with color, video and a whole whapping 80 GB (which I thought was a lot) and with my purchase still smelling like new machinery I find that they have for even less money then what I spent a touch screen ipod, a classic ipod with180 GB and a nano that has video too!
I just bought mine four weeks ago and it's already out dated!
I hate you so much apple man and yet, I want you in the worst possible way.
Oh to be a poor student in an age when there are so many pretty things you could own.

Awake and Sing in an American Accent please...

I had my first experience today of taking myself out and seeing a show, alone. The Almeida was a good place to start. So having said that let me start with…

The story... 'Awake and Sing' by Clifford Odets
Poor Jewish family in 1930’s Bronx stuck together and resenting the hell out of it.

CHARACTERS -
Bessie, a typical pushy, Jewish mother, cares what people will say, and tries too hard to make life perfect, no matter the cost to the lives of those around her. Her father Jacob, lives in their spare room, he’s educated, but no one will listen to him except Ralph, his 20 something year old grandson, who still lives at home. Ralph, who sleeps in the living room, pines for a poor orphan girl. Neither of their families wants them together. But when Jacob ends his life he leaves the insurance money to Ralph so he can move out and start a life. Meanwhile, his sister Hennie got knocked up by a one-night stand and is forced by her mother to marry Sam, a young immigrant, not the baby’s father, whom she does not love. Morty, the rich uncle drops in to stir things up by helping Bessie claim the insurance money for the family and not Ralph. Dopey father Myron, appears now and then as comic relief, lost in his own dream world we see what a life time of living with Bessie can do to a person. Moe a family friend who’s in love with Hennie moves in to help pay the rent when Hennie moves out with Sam. But things get complicated when everyone goes after their desires because of Bessie and her disapproving, medaling, nature. In the end the kids Hennie and Ralph learn to make their own decisions and sacrifices forcing Bessie to realize she’s lost that control. (Bad synopsis I know. But I’m tired. Sorry gave away some endings.)

The Praise…
The space is awesome, the set looked well researched and put together. Stockard Channing, I’d pay to watch her read the phone book. This woman is good. I’d even use the word fierce. So I don’t need to go on about how she owned that role. Who doubts that? I’ll talk about the people I never heard of. The people who were also dead on. Nigel Lindsay playing Moe, John Fillingham in the small but show stealing part of Sam and the young Jodie Whittaker as Hennie. Don’t get me wrong the others were very good as well. These were just my favorites. Nigel was like a young James Cann in this role and something about that stuck with me. Jodie said so much when she had no lines at all. That always impresses me. John made what could have been a small role into a complete character that I cannot forget, quirks and all.
The rest of the cast….
Ben Turner as Ralph had some nice moment's at the end when he stopped shouting every line.
Paul Jesson playing Myron Berger was very delightful.
John Rogan as Jacob added some great insight to the family for the audience with his responses and I don't mean verbal.
Kieron Jecchinis as Schlosser had the smallest role. He did whatever he could with it.
Trevor Cooper as Uncle Morty played his role to a T!
The rest I already gushed over. Director Michael Attenborough made some very beautiful picture on stage, thank you. I noticed a little Rockwell action. No?

The Other stuff…
The direction was favorable but there were times when I wanted just a moment of silence. The pacing seemed off in other words. I have a problem with American plays from the 1930’s- they all have those political and witty one-liners, rolling on top of each other, so everything about the characters and setting feels false. So staged. But once you get it going there were moments that Mr. Odets lets his characters be human. When those moments came the director found some nice beats. In that silence you fall in love with these people.

Another note about direction. The physical aspect between all the characters made me uncomfortable and I wonder if that was on purpose? I’m mean, the literal physicality when any character reached out and touched another. It was as if something was holding them back. Strange, I know but that’s what I saw. I don’t mean to say I disliked it.
Also, one little thing did bother me. The men sat on the armrest of the couch. In those days having a couch was something, and I refuse to believe Bessie would allow anyone to treat her furniture that way. I would have liked to see a moment when she smacked her son on the head for sitting like that but no. Oh well. Not a big deal.

Now for the really important part. What it all means to ME… (You had to know that was coming.) I know this family well. I also know if we took out all the one uppers and dated remarks, add in some hefty words about Bush and the Iraq war instead, change the sound of the Boston mail airplane to any jet liner, sending a chilling remark about 9/11 in a subtle way and you have what could be a very modern play. But the audience reads in-between the lines. So I think this is a perfect time to put on this show.

It was strange, I must admit, watching a play of my people’s not so distant past
(By people I mean American’s, Jewish, and living in NYC) with a bunch of British audience goers. Even the actors true accent’s shown now and then making their 1930’s Bronx brogue feel so forced that I felt ‘do these people get it?’ Of course they do. It’s universal but when a Yiddish joke was made I was the only person laughing.
I should have felt comforted by this performance but it only made me feel even further from home. NYC is just sitting with my past and hopefully my future, a stone skip over the pond, and I can’t reach it. I can watch stories about it but the accents are false and I know it. (PS no standing O! The nerve… also I was to chicken shit to start one as I sat second row center. Damn, next time Hollie get some balls, those actors deserved it. BRAVO!)

In the thick of things

Sept 26, 07

I’m starting to hate this city. (Mainly the buses.) Small things happened but together they paint one annoying picture and it’s a close up of me, pissed off.
Yesterday, I made my way to Oxford Circus in hopes of finding the Apple Store. The reason? My stupid new ipod froze. Having one just die, along with my computer, I was a little bit upset to think my new one was done for as well.
I go.
They say, “Why didn’t you bring it in?” (The ipod of course!)
Me. “Because I’m an ass.”
No response.
Just to clear my name for a minute, the little man in the screen said 'do not disconnect from computer.' Ok. So I didn’t. I told him that was why.
The apple man laughed at me, rightfully so. What did I expect them to do without the little toy?
“Well, bring it in and we can replace it if it’s broken.” Good news I thought. Bad news had to come back.
So I trotted out in my Renaissance Boots. It’s ok. I won’t charge you to stare at my awesomeness. This one is on the House!
The bus.
I have no change for the bus.
Idea.
Buy coffee. Coffee change equal bus fare! Brilliant as always.
So my Ren Boots and I head to the usual place and get my DTM. (Double Tall Mocha)
Long line.
Of course. One person at the cash register and something has gone wrong. But I have nowhere to be, so I wait.
Step out side with my DTM in hand and watch as not one but two of the number 73 buses pass me  by. I could feel their laughter. And... oh by the way... it began to rain... in fact pour. For the first time since I got here I got trapped in the rain, not wearing either of my new cool raincoats or my umbrella.
Next brilliant idea.
Get the bus ticket and try to make a run for it.
Traffic was slow; I could so catch it by the next top.
Clearly, that didn’t work out at all. Just missed them. So I brave the rain, stand sipping my Mocha and wait.
This middle age woman comes along and slowly inches toward me, as if to get into the bus first, whenever it comes. I see her game.
Bus is packed.
The first door, I have no chance. She sees it too. The Wench beats me to the second door. One spot left and she hops in.
Oh hell no! My ass was getting on that bus.
It did. But not with out a fight.
To be fair, I gave vocal warning.
“I’m getting on.”
Nothing.
“I’m getting on.”
Nothing.
Plenty of room for them to spread out into the isles but they would have none of it, and neither would I. I pushed in. Doors couldn’t close. I push further in. Doors close. I could see the collective grunts and eye rolls.
A youth next to me “Bloody fucking hell” he mumbles just so I could hear it.
I felt I had to proclaim my situation to the people.
“I just missed the other two. I’m not waiting another 20 minutes. You would have done the same.” I didn’t need to add in the rain. They could see that.
Then that bitch that tried to take the last spot from me, her nose in the air as if she was no part in this, turns to me “I’m sorry, is someone complaining?”
As if I did not get her double meaning. You, you cow I thought.
“The kid next to me” I turn to him daring him to make eye contact. No luck. He keeps his gaze to the door and mumbles some more “Fucks” after I turned my attention back.
Daring anyone else to say anything to me.
The stop comes; it’s a big one. People get off and I push my way further. Hoping that’s the last of that, I breath a sigh.

Today I’m excited to get out of my fortress of solitude and head to my office (A.K.A. the school lib) when I actually have 3 pounds and fifty pents to make a full day bus pass, not a one way pass, like I normally have. So already I feel today will be different. Put yesterday out of my mind.
A bus comes, not my normal one. This one stops at the school’s stop, so I get on it.
It’s a double Decker, two door. I’m used to the three doors extra long, one story bus. On that one you can enter through any door.
I hop on the second door and right away I hear “Hey! Hey!” Another woman and myself turn as if who me?
I happily oblige and hop to his little driver booth, proudly displaying my all day bus pass.
“This door is the entrance, that door is the exit!” He spits this mantra at me two more times. “OK!” he shouts as if I am daft!
Ok, got it you’re an ass! “Ok” I say as pictures of signs from the other bus saying enter any three doors flood my head. Every bus cannot have it’s own separate rules. How could anyone function!
I let it slide. Pride wounded (I’m a Leo people. You can’t do that to my type of person.) I head to the second level, because that always makes me happy, and to lick my wounds (A.K.A scribble in my note book.)
My stop. I walk head held high down the steps but just as I reach the last one he jerks the bus and I go flying. I catch myself and barely bump into this thick, older, eastern European woman. (You know the type. Well all have one in our family)
Immediately she goes off on me. Deaf to my apology. I knew the bus driver was smirking, thinking how he knew he spotted a troublemaker.
So after she keeps going on I finally shouted back at her. Something to the affect of “Oh fuck off you crazy old bitch.” Well clearly that didn’t help.
We shouted until the bus came to a stop. The driver opened the door in front of her and left mine closed. I knew it! So I push my way off and flip them all the bird. (I do realize that has no meaning in this country but aside from getting jailed; it was all I could think to do.) I stormed off, luckily in the opposite direction of the old hag and pouted all the way to school.
I was only out in the world for less then an hour and already London was shitting on me. Note to self: Get a bike!

The Bus Fairy VS. the Village Idiot

Sept 22, 07
I’m not in the mood to deal with the village idiot today. The bus machine stole another pound from me; yesterday it ate one as well. Total stolen money by the bus fairy (that did not equal into my fare) $4.00! Then after a fistfight with the box (it won) I missed my bus! Luckily, another one was on its tail. Unluckily, so was the village idiot.
This woman jumped up in front of me a stood in the doorway leaning from left to right. Taking one foot in each direction, then changing her mind and so on. Finally, I push her so the doors would not close on me. “Pick a way,” the angry New Yorker voice in me said. “I don’t know. I was following you.” She said with her eyes also in different directions. Mind you, I’m behind her! How can you follow some one who is not in front of you! “Well, don’t follow me you crazy bitch.” I shout (proving I’m just as nuts as you, so back off.) And push my way past her to an open seat.
Suddenly, she pops up a few feet in front of me. Being crazy and all she started aggravating other customers by leaning over them as they sat. Then the bus stops and she screams after the doors close and we are on our way again
“Driver. Mr. Driver!" So he ignores her and stops only when it is the next designated place. She gets off. Before she does she turns to the Man across from me, who is minding his own business with his wife and two little girls and screams “Bastard!”
Off she goes to stomp around the bus stop.
The father says to his wife “What did she say?”
The little girl responds, “Bastard! She called you a Bastard” in her little accent.
Proud of her maturity to say it with a straight face and getting away with it no less, she leans back into her seat and watches the streets go by.
The father still feeling insulted mutters something mainly to his wife, in a deep English brogue (I haven't mastered the dialects and their corresponding regions yet.)
I sit, noticing the man next to me has his bag in his lap and his hands underneath it in his crotch, jittery. No doubt stroking his balls, proud himself to get away with it too. I can smell his musk rising and so I get off a few stops early.
Well, rewarded? I am! Because, it’s Saturday in Islington and the antique dealers have set up shop along the sidewalks. One of the things I have come to love about my new home, antiques galore and no pushy sales people! But I'm too poor to actually buy anything. So off I go to school I go.  (yes on a Saturday, having nothing else to do.) I sit alone in my office (the library) before it closes in two hours. Wearing my school logo on a sweater, I realize... of course I am a permanent tourist here. Cheers!

The Every Day Things

Sept 21 07

Grocery Store:
They have better selection of frozen meals
The people are too intense about getting to a spot in the isle before you
Small Check out booths
Don’t buy the beef (can’t stop going!)
Do buy the frozen pizzas! (They are no NYC slices but they hit the spot)
Biscuit’s are cookies.
Spastic wenches yell at me that I’m stuck up.
Avoid all with a baby carriage.

The Street:
Never see a dog on a leash. Also they seem smarter then dogs in the states.
Kids roam the land in all types of uniforms. They also seem smarter, accent perhaps?

Book Stores:
Borders here
Better selection! (Too good. I spent 50 pounds in 10 minutes)

DVD rental:
No netflix there version is lovefilm.com
My computer had to change something to be able to watch their DVD’s here. Computers (Macs will only change 3 times.) So while I am here I can’t watch any of my American DVD’s.

Online:
Craislist is not as widely known
Gumtree.com is

I feel as though I should be reading Mrs. Dalloway and embracing English classics but I have chosen “A life of One’s Own” by Ilana Simons instead. My bookshelf doesn’t stop there. It is growing nicely. I am almost done with Belle de Jour, by anonymous. I wonder real or fake? Either way very inspiring. Mainly because I’m running out of job options here in London and I like that she is Jewish and a Simpson’s aficionado.
Next in line are Liz Jensen’s Egg Dancing and The Ninth Life of Louis Drax. I have read her other book My Dirty Little Book of Stolen Time, which by the way didn’t steal any of my time. It was a fun read. So I am excited to see what else she has come up with. Then I have some suggested books by the good people at Borders.
They have a staff recommended shelf and I chose Candy by Mian Mian and The Unbearable Lightness of Being By Milan Kundera. Rounding off the list Tales of Ordinary Madness by Bukowski (only one name needed there!) and Three Men in a Boat by Jerome Jerome. I grabbed all up these  in a mere ten minutes at borders! Only here it’s double the cost for me. Lousy American money. But being American I can call it lousy and not get arrested. I miss my backwards country!