Send via SMS

Friday, February 11, 2005

A Conversation 

It's so weird, life. A week or so ago I was entirely focused on looking for a new job. Now this week, I'm entirely focused on scheduling the film festival. It looks like I'll be going to Pittsburgh and Miami in April. There's things in the works for the summer and fall, too. I can almost feel my brain actually, physically shift when my focus changes like that...

And it's more than that. I thought I needed a new career and more money. Now I'm thinking my job is perfect because I can easily do all this film stuff. I can do both at once. Did I tell you? My new boss called and told me I'm eligible for another week of vacation. That's six weeks I have now. If I left, I'd lose all that.

Do you ever wonder about the evolution of man and society? I sometimes wonder if we're on the cusp of a new age. Sometimes I worry that we're on the edge of a new Dark Ages. Take sex for example. Before 1970 it used to mean something, you know? Now it's considered a necessity, more like food or shelter. And people just take it for granted. Is that moving forward or taking a step backward?

Maybe you've heard about the new biography of President Lincoln where they make A Big Deal over the fact he slept in the same bed with another guy for 17 years. That might not mean anything. They did things like that back then. It's revisionist history, I guess.

I read another book review -- in the New York Times or someplace -- written on a biography of Henry James. I love reading those reviews! And it was the same thing: That book made much of Henry James' "close friendship" with some Supreme Court Justice from back then. But the reviewer seemed to think the same way. I like how he put it: Prior to a generation ago, sex was not the only game in town.

Like my trip to Miami. Miami was a great time. We don't have to talk about this all night, but there was a lot of sex. But there's nothing to tell you except a recitation of positions and to tell you the truth, it was kinda boring. Do you think that's weird?

No, Miami was a great time for different reasons -- I wasn't expecting to like it at all. The architecture was pretty cool. Not just the Art Deco district (which was pretty incredible), but the modern stuff, too.

And the food! Oh, the food was *amazing* -- no vegetarian fare there!

It's kinda funny. Whenever Grace goes to the 'spa,' she always gains weight -- she loves it there! After only four days, it looks like she swallowed a small child. So this week we're both in detox...

# posted by B. Arthurholt : 4:04 PM : Luscious

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Snapshots From Miami - draft 

A conversation
I'm just saying that Miami is a very conservative town. I mean, all the guys wear black or grey. One color is OK, like your shirt. It's green and it looks great and that's fine. But look at your shoes, those red stripes. And maybe that would be OK if it's that Puma look, even. But then you've got that orange jacket. You look around, you don't see guys wearing all these colors. You know what I mean? But that's OK. It's just you. I mean, ever since I've met you you've always worn a lot of colors. At first I tried to tell you that guys don't wear all these colors, but you keep wearing them anyway. And, not just any colors but like the brightest possible colors. It's just who you are. I mean, I'm just saying.

A Lie
They sit, looking out to sea. The beeze is warm. His voice is soft and slow, rhythmic like the white surf crossing in curled lines against the black sea.

"Where are you from?"
"Ohio. You?"
"Costa Rica. Do you have boyfriend?"
"No."
"No? You have no boyfriend? You ever have?"
"Si. Cinq anos... uh... como dise 'in the past'?"
"How many boyfriend have you?"
"Tres. La mejor uno por sieze anos, los otros por dos anos. You know?"
"Si... Why are you here?"
"I am on vacation. Por quatro dias."
"Ah..." he breaks into a flow of quiet Spanish, as quiet as the rain. He lives with his family in an apartment; he has been here six months. He misses his home.
"How old are you?"
"Viente anos. Tu es?"
"Triente y dos."

A Private Arts Event

The museum is spare, expansive, white. Paintings the size of tapestries are still dwarfed in comparison to the dimensions of the rooms. The building is in the warehouse district; people mill about to trance music in a walled garden. They are serving drinks and BBQ.
We can't pay anything up front. But that should be no problem. They're hungry here. I mean look at it out there. This was just put together a couple of days ago. All I did was make ten, fifteen calls maybe, and there's a hundred people here.
Well that's fine. We don't need anything up front as long as we know there will be people here. How would we publicize the event? I mean, would you want me to make the calls or put together a press release?
Oh no! We would take care of that. We'd mail something out to our 1500 regular members. Glossy inserts, you know. I'd get on the phone with a few regulars, or my assistant would. I'm telling you, the people in this town are hungry for this kind of thing.
That sounds good. And what time frame would you have in mind?
I was hoping the end of April might be good, we have these Saturday events, you know? And we'd be giving you a break, we'll comp a lot of the stuff, you wouldn't have to wrory about insurance or feeding anyone. We'd get someone to donate the drinks. And the family owns two hotels, so you'd have a place to stay.
That sounds fine. Thank you so much! We'll be in touch with you or with your assistant and finalize things in short order.


Outside A Club In South Beach
Outside a club in South Beach, someone on a scooter has cut off someone in an SUV and then flipped the guy in the SUV off. The door of the SUV pops open and the guy inside pops out, taking after him. The guy in the scooter thinks he's ready, steadying himself and even gestering 'come on' but the other one takes up a steel bistro chair as he passes it and swings it over and down on top of his head. The chair bounces to one side and now they are tearing at each other's jackets.

I turn heel. "Uhm," I say, laughing nervously no doubt, "we don't see this back in Ohio." I say to somebody passing by at the same time.

"You're from Ohio?" The guy stops, "Where?"
"Dayton."
"I'm from Columbus." He looks familiar. Have we...?
"Like your shirt." He says. My friend has given me a white tee with ENGLAND stitched on it.
"Oh, I like yours too." His is neon blue with ITALIA stitched on it in yellow.
"I'm a little sketched out right now."
"Ohhh... OK. Well, looks like things have settled down back there. See ya!"

My friend says: "Why did you chase him away?"

Inside A Club In South Beach
The place is packed. It is so packed with guys, you can barely move. Maybe that's the idea. My friend has been here before. He says they turn out the lights and then things happen.

I'm jammed into a crowd so thick and the crowd is so thick that it moves in a mass like being seasick. The lights get switched off. Things start happening. Things are happening but this is what I'm thinking: I wish I was at the beach right now listening to the waves and I haven't been able to check the job board for two days now.

Someone bites me. Like a cork, I work my way out as best I can and down the stairs to outside. I walk to the beach and sit, listening to the waves and sirens.

Another Conversation
I have to tell you, I wasn't able to sleep all night. I was thinking about all the poeople we've met on this trip! Everyone was so friendly. We so have to come back in April.

Besos!

# posted by B. Arthurholt : 9:02 PM : Luscious