ichabod jane

three of my all-time favorite things: 1. dressing up for halloween. 2. j.d. salinger's glass family. 3. the undisputed fact that my life is, always has been, and always will be a sitcom. (or gothic novel, depending on the day.)

tom and i were franny & zooey for halloween, and it's pretty much guaranteed that i'm going to be in a good mood until 2009.

gaaaa. I LOVE HALLOWEEN! i'm a junkie. certifiable junkie. we dressed up on saturday and hit the town in full style for the munly & the lee lewis harlots concert, and i glittered all over denver until the very wee hours. tomorrow i may have to dress up for work, because when you work with very dedicated liberal boulderites, it is your civic duty to go as a microwave, carbohydrate, preservative, unrecyclable plastic, or dedicated republican. i might just dump the rest of my glitter reserves all over my body and claim that i'm sugar in the public school system... there are too many options, and i'm exhausted just thinking about it. tomorrow night i may go for a third costume, or rock the franny again. we did make some damn convincing glass siblings.(american spirits and all).

if anyone would like to share their small children with me tomorrow for trick or treating, i'm available by phone, fax or homeing pigeon... otherwise i'll be out making fun of drunk undergrads in high-heeled ugghhh boots.

in other news, a tall, dark & handsome stranger named dale has joined my pirate ship of adventure, and i'm happy to report that i have found the alex p. keaton to my elise keaton. (except that we're not related,and i'm not 25 years his senior.) we're from two entirely different shelves in the grocery store, which is my idea of a good time (and the USDA's new food pyramid would commend us on variety and good nutrition). at this very moment, he is home reading my ancient and beloved copy of bridge to terabithia... needless to say, i'm happy and smitten and other words that end with "he's reading my favorite book!"

october, don't end after tomorrow. you have been nothing but shpedoinkle, and i will grieve your parting.

autumn in new york... why does it feel so inviting?

so i was sitting in a cafe on madison avenue and E78th having a cup of coffee, reading truman capote and scribbling professional goals on a stack of legal pads. minding my own damn business. two little boys pulled up on scooters-- a normal looking kid on a normal, fancy scooter, and the world's tiniest, most adorable jewish boy (complete with round harry potter glasses- does every kid in the city have these?) on a wooden, squeaky taxi scooter. normal kid goes running off, but tiny taxi boy parks his scooter, puts his hands on the glass and starts excitedly giving me the thumbs up before he turns and scampers away.

it's possible that tiny taxi boy was just excited about my choice in reading material, but i think he was my welcome wagon to my hypothetical leap of careers, cities and experiences... and it dawned on me that it wouldn't get much better than spending my days whizzing around on a vintage scooter, skim latte in one hand, handlebars in the other, wind in my hair and a tiny yarmulke cap scooting down madison avenue ahead of me.


jessie is my all-time, most favorite, most tremendous hero. not only did she let me crash with her, her charming bobby and their roommate brian, but they all live above, work at and own the world's sassiest dive bar, rief's tavern. she even let me bartend with her one night... which involved cracking open three bottles of coors light and spending the rest of the night leaning on the bar practicing my new york bartending lines with the regulars ("you wanna start with me?" ... "whadd'ya want? thirteen seconds or i'm cutting you off" ... "don't think i won't throw you out")

to top it all off, jessie has a membership to the met, and let me borrow it. i went six times... starting on my first night in the city, where she piled all of our friends into cabs and took us to the rooftop, where the lights are beautiful and the alligator statue is terrifying.
(i am officially going to get a digital camera. in the meantime, i'm going to exploit my resources and some of New Friend steve weave's photos.)

the met is incredible. the armor room?! are you kidding me?!? best thing ever.

jessie's boyfriend's sister's husband rob, pictured above at said bar, also wins Best Champion Of the World for taking me out with Steve and Tracy on his NYPD buddy's NYPD harbor patrol boat. this was the most exciting, fantastic view of new york i've ever seen... the water was choppy, the boat was small, fast and delightful, and the three police officers on board took us right out to ellis island, the statue of liberty, and all around the harbor.


steve, tracy and rob gave me one of my favorite memories ever... the harbor, the ridiculousness, cab rides arguing about christopher guest movies, and then arriving in the west village for drunkenness and hysterical (disgusting) true-life stories from their past.

i had an interview with the executive producer at discovery kids, which was extremely informative and helpful. i also had an interview with the family entertainment agent from the gotham group in los angeles, and two informational interviews with disney (ny) and nickjr. (ny). my dad's literary agent richard (practically an uncle- i've known him since i was born) took me out for a cup of coffee and picked my brain on a stunningly beautiful tuesday morning. i learned soooo much from all of these people, but i'm feeling almost more overwhelmed with the potential and possibilities that are stretched out in front of me. in one week, i've gone from considering shadowing an executive producer to working on my writing portfolio and trying to write for tv to...well,publishing, comedy writing and on-set producing. i think i'm going to pursue my dreams of trying to get into the sesame workshops or HBO documentaries... but even today, after an hour of interviewing a social worker about foster care, i'm very tempted to volunteer as a youth advocate with local social services and join big sisters as i research my foster care book. i feel bad standing on the diving board above a pool of new job inspirations when my co-workers think i'll be there for another year, but apparently i'm just ready to move on. i think the time is almost right.

wow. a lot has happened in the last two weeks. i've met so many wonderful people... spent time with the friends i've missed so much... finally saw jessie's kickass art gallery... got to reunite with steven larson again... roamed the streets of a great city and finally, *finally* figured out the subway system. jessie and i had front row tickets for "evil dead: the musical", the most intense off-broadway laugh we may ever have. the stage was so close that i literally couldn't cross my legs... the seats were wrapped in plastic, the ushers handed out ponchos for our row before the second act. at the end of the play, we were soaking wet. we had blood in our hair, blood in our ears, blood shooting out of the set at all angles into our face, zombies intentionally splashing us with blood that had gathered on the stage. blood pooled in huge puddles in our ponchos...i looked like i had been shot in the forehead.


october has been a phenomenal chapter in my life... everyone from the bohemian harvard-grad i sat next to on the plane and will meet out at the 'pec when he commutes in next weekend to the social worker i met today downtown boulder has had something really exciting and inspirational to share with me. the month has kind of felt like an odd, lucid dream... especially the day i was 8 blocks away from the plane that the yankees player flew into the apartment building. i'm missing my far-away friends so much, but happy that our lives are still all braided together like this, and completely reveling out of the old and brand new friends i'm so lucky to have here.

side note... i can't be more excited for halloween. tom agreed to dress up with me... i can't give away our costume secret yet, but it's GOOD. my friend pete went out with me on my trek to find good glitter, and he bought the hilarious huge willy wonka glasses for the festivities.

if it would get above 35 degrees in my apartment, i would almost say that things are pretty close to paradise these days. but until then, i will don the fingerless gloves and type things out until the dreams of grandeur are realized.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

first: a happy birthday to my favorite, sweet thaddeus.
one of the best friends i've ever had, and one of the best friends i ever
will have. happy birthday to the man who sings "ice fishing" while squeezing the pasta to see if it's done, who made rochester the promised land when i was a study-faced college kid, who introduced me to krispy kreme donuts, dancing, cascadian farms granola, cannibal the musical, apple-Z, and the best rocks to sleep on in the atlantic ocean.
to the editor of films, the drinker of teas, the lover of friends and the maker of mischief. no one else could ever laugh as hard while making up the lines to flashdance with me (1...2...3...nut!) or pick up the phone every time i call (even when he's at work with angela lansbury and warren beatty).
i love ya, kid. and i miss you!

second: and the times, they are a changing.
my parents bought a house and are moving. crazyface.

i spent 12 hours at a conference yesterday, and fielded calls on the sly from people who might consider giving me a job. "are you familiar with the weinsteins?" an entertainment agent asked while i was on speakerphone, and when i replied "yes- i lived with their daughter sara," a whole room full of men started cracking up. crazyface.

i'm leaving for new york tonight, and i don't have a return ticket. crazyface.

i'm completely worn out from last week... it's going to take an animal-in-the-bushes act of adrenaline to get me out of this apartment, out of this state and out of this chapter of my life. maybe i should take a quick hike in south boulder on my way to the airport. mwahaha.

i can't wait to find out where life is two months from now. i hope it includes a great job, a healthy outlook, a closer vicinity to the friends i luff, and a stack of really good books. maybe 2006 isn't a lost cause, after all? aaand... cue the theme to the cosby show

october moon

I was trying to scare Sarah a little bit by pointing out the Halloween-esque moon that was slowly dissolving through a misty, pink and grey October sky at dusk, but she was too distracted and happy to be in the great outdoors to feign fear.

We had decided at the magical hour of 5:00 that our faces had been melted by computer screens for way too long, and could be restored by a nice long walk. I was a little bit dazed from the busy day, and by the time I managed to get gas, go home to change and drive across town, it was getting a little bit late. Neither of us noticed, and we headed over to the trails in Southeast Boulder surrounded by a sea of fit, glowing Boulderites.

It was a gorgeous walk in the fall dusk-- the cattail grasses were waving in the breeze, a high sea of green, yellow and mauve blades, and the headlights from South Boulder Road illuminated the dark trunks of the wide oak trees along the trail. Aside from our chatter about the strange effects of insomnia and the pros and cons of office life, the only sounds were of traffic and the occasional rustle of wings as redwing blackbirds launched out of the trees. The path took us under an overpass where the echoing rumble of cars made us pause-- it was an eerie, almost violent sound-- and then through a dark puddle-filled tunnel that ended on a dirt path. To the right of us was a barbed wire fence and a wide, mucky pasture, and the left side of the path was overgrown with brush and shrubs.

We kept walking, and began to realize that that the sun had gone down fast during our conversation. My blindingly white legs poking out under dark Adidas shorts were the only thing I could clearly see, and the thin orange moon didn't cast any light on the trail from behind its cloudy veil. We reached a clearing, turned around and sleepily began to head home when all the hairs went up on the back of my neck.

My imagination works overtime, and I try to keep a check on that, but as we ducked back into the low-visibility part of the trail I felt the presence of something close to us. I touched Sarah's arm to motion to her to pause the conversation, and the two of us froze for a moment. The sounds of the highway filled the background, and to the right of us, a creek burbled. "Something's in there," I said nervously, and Sarah looked at me questioningly. A small scuttle-- the sound of a few birds, perhaps-- sounded just beyond where we could see, and then a small skittering-- most likely a rabbit or mouse pushing through the dried leaves to safety. My eyes were adjusting to the dim light, when I saw it. Not more than 15' ahead of us, in a thick stand of brush, was something dark-- something wide, and something BIG. Sarah's eyes grew wide, and silently we looked at each other... a hiker peeing in the woods? A dark trunk that happened to look like legs? Just next to me, a heavy branch snapped in half, and the two of us screamed, pivoted and ran.

That's when I heard it-- bushes being shoved aside, branches snapping, leaves and dirt being kicked up-- something heavy was chasing us, and I could hardly see ten feet in front of me. Without looking back, Sarah could tell how fast it was gaining on us, and she leaped a few feet ahead of me as our feet pounded the dirt trail. For a moment, my ancient New Balance sneakers skidded on the rocks, and I began to drop to one knee. Frantically, terrified, all I could think to do was put one hand out toward her disappearing figure... I couldn't scream or fall, I just had to reach. The only thought in my head was that I looked exactly like every horror movie I've ever seen ("...John!"), and that I was going to feel teeth in the back of my neck at any second. I managed to pull myself up and keep racing just as the sound of shattered branches stopped, and the two of us ran hard and fast until we were in the middle of the clearing. We found a scrawny, rusted gate that we managed to swing closed, and we stood in the middle of the grasslands staring at each other, panting for breath. Ahead of us was miles of trail, darkness, silence. Behind us was the black creature, waiting between us and the tiny tunnel that would take us home.

"What do we do?" Sarah said with a shakey voice, hands behind her head to help her breathe. "How are we going to get out of here?" My heart was slamming against my ribs, and sweat was beading on my temples in the cold air. "I'm not going back there," I managed to squeak out-- "I'm not."

Out of the darkness, a dark figure appeared again. We froze, tensed to run, waited to see which direction it would go. I thumbed the heavy ring on my right hand, wishing I had anything to grab-- a rock, a stick, a car key. The figure was headed straight toward us, teetering a bit, wobbling some. It was a woman on a bicycle. "Stop!" we yelled, "did you see it? A bear, a moose-- something just charged us back there! Are you okay?" The woman squeezed her brakes, put her left foot on the ground and looked at us. "Oh man--" she said, winded "I thought I was gonna hit that garbage can back there until it moved. Scared the crap outta me!" Lowering her voice, she confided in us what she had seen, and without exchanging a word, Sarah and I looked at each other and nodded solemnly. We stood by the edge of the path as the woman rode off, still breathing hard, and waited as two distant joggers approached us with headlamps.
We broke into a run behind them, using their beam as our guide, and silently followed them back in the direction we'd just come from. The willows loomed ahead-- the brush obstructing our view of the creature that had just charged us, and I gritted my teeth, grabbed Sarah's elbow for comfort, and kept running, nostrils flaring, adrenaline coursing through my blood.

The bush to the the right of us shook again, the leaves flailed, and the dark figure moved its enormous head to peer at the four of us emerging through the darkness. He was not alone, there were two more just beyond his shrub, and three more toward the mouth of the tunnel. The joggers looked him squarely in the eye but did not stray from the course, keeping a brisk pace and a solid stature for survival.
I shuddered, but did not panic, and we ran past the silent, massive creatures and out into freedom.

I didn't stop running for a long time, but once I allowed myself to breathe, I looked behind me to where their dark masses dotted the landscape. The moon shuddered behind the mask of night, and the sound of two low,lonely moos echoed through the dark, indifferent silence of night.

to-do: see the tetons at dawn in real life

This is Alby. Not as sweet or wonderful as Fergie, but way up there in the sweet and wonderful dog category.

Alby belongs to Josh, one of the two filmmakers who made the documentary 10mph (www.10mph.com), which is about two guys who quit their cube farm jobs and ride a segway from seattle to new york. I worked on this documentary for several months last year, but parted ways when I discovered that the film was taking a pretty mean turn. (Never work for free if things get sketchy!)

I helped log part of the 180 hours of footage they had-- filled with images of the tetons at dawn, Alby trotting behind the segway across entire states, my favorite bridge in Poughkeepsie New York, hells angels, smoke jumpers, Nez Perce Indians, farmers, new mothers, an entire fleet of chicago police on segways, interviews with fascinating people, slapstick, drama, battery changes-- it was the stuff a fun indie documentary is made of. But Hunter and Josh took the route that most young filmmakers want to make, which was to cast the journey aside and focus on the sexy conflict: funding problems, and people they didn't like, namely their friend Pat who was putting thousands of dollars into the project to fund it (from afar) and Alon, the young man who helped them without pay or camera time, and is only ever referred to as "Intern," or when he goes to the hospital with a kidney stone, "Wuss".

It was interesting to see this film play in Boulder-- to see Hunter & Josh in person again and see a whole theater full of people who paid $6.50 to see the documentary. My friends came to see it with me, and we all giggled at the funny parts, got fidgety during the boring parts, and turned to each other to make 3rd grade gagging motions when we discovered that (unsurprisingly) I been completely left out of the credits, and another female editor in the crowd had been left out of the credits as well. Pat the Evil Villain (who of course had no idea he was being slammed) was sitting behind me, just in from the East coast to see the film.

It was childish of them, and the documentary was a good example of how film and arrogance can get too close for comfort. All exasperations aside, it was really fun to see something playing in a festival that I'd seen from the post-production phase. I used to go from 9 hour days serving espresso straight to Denver with coffee in my shoes and sit down to log tapes, attend a screening with other young editors, and argue about shot sequences. I used to head home from teaching a two hour cello lesson and a shoot up in the mountains to a room full of thousands of cds that needed to be turned into a soundtrack. The soundtrack came out great-- it was so exciting to hear the bands and songs that had poured in with notes, "please put us in your film! We've never been out of Arkansas, but we can rock!"

It gave me a little dose of film-geekdom again, and I felt excited-- someday, and soon if I'm lucky, I'll have a film crew or a cast of co-workers who I spend my days with, and even though we might have coffee in our socks and tips in our back pockets, we all get up in the morning yearning for the editing bay, the fine tip sharpie and the legal pad, the f-stop, the cello strings...whatever it is that might make our lives feel valuable and interesting at that time. I don't know exactly where I'm going right now, but I'm holding on to what I've always known-- I want my life to feel valuable. I want my thoughts to have meaning. I want my career and my personal life to pursue passion, ideas, substance and kindred spirits.

I've been talking to a lot more people recently about the foster care system and how to follow my interest in that area, and in the process, I've hooked up with friends who I hadn't talked to in a long time-- people who have similar dreams and are making my life more inspired just with their energetic presence. The 20s are a terrible curse, but the promise of a blank slate is exhilarating... I want to give to the people and organizations that I care about without losing a fundamental or irreplaceable part of myself in the process.

In the meantime, it's a wonderfully quiet, cozy evening, my apartment has been cleaned, good food has been cooked, good people have talked my entire battery out. I have a few more chaotic days at work, and then I'll be back East with my friendth! A new suit and interview questions, blood-splattered in the front row by zombies, learning how to be a bartender, seeing Jessie's gallery, Steve's birthday. I need to buy nice shoes, pay my bills and find someone who will water Robert Plant... too much to do.This week: crazyface. Tonight: comfy, introspective and wearing pajama pants with monsters on them. Voici, c'est la vie-- pas la vie en rose, mais la vie du Petit Prince... complique, belle, et avec une petite fleur sur une petite planette.

but it's a dream-- we don't have to work in dreams

it needs to be said again... i. love. fall. the leaves, the light, the lazy mornings, the smell of wood smoke and damp earth. it's the season of fingerless gloves, long jackets, big books and deep cups of coffee.
does it get much better than this?

i saw la science des reves-- the science of dreams (or as hollywood translated it, the science of sleep). as predicted, it did mess with my dreams last night. but since it was also one of the best nights of sleep i've had in weeks, i'm going to stall for a while to muse about it before hitting the trails for a jog.

i can't quite put my finger on this one. i love michel gondry and want to have ten thousand of his babies, but like charlie kaufman, i think his creative brilliance can get garbled and fail to communicate in the artistic frenzy. my friend becca got a very posh job acting as a go-between for a company full of geologists-- they would give her their scientific findings, and she would translate them into english that the rest of society could understand. i think this is the kind of middle man that gondry needs... someone to help him channel his dreams and quirks into a cinematic arch that is supported with substance. (nevermind that one of my all-time favorite movies is eternal sunshine, which kaufman and gondry wrote together. my guess is that they had to work through their creative babble to make something clear and parallel with the other's vision)

the science of sleep had some interesting but feverish elements-- the language switched from english to french to spanish and a multitude of subtitles in ever scene, and the characters were given less development than the trix rabbit gets on the back of the cereal box. both leads had subtle, wonderful faces for indie film, and seemed to completely trust gondry's directing. they could also deliver subtle comedy, which is possibly the hardest thing in the world to do successfully on film.
for someone with an acute case of insomnia, this film did reach me very deeply as a tortured blend of dream and reality, and the struggle to communicate or problem-solve real life issues when your mind feels like it's swimming in the abstract. gondry created a myriad of wonderfully creative scenes and images with this film, he delivered enough laughs to embarrass me multiple times as i giggled long past the punchline, and he wrote lines that could not have been closer to things i've said and thought recently. but he kept me in a permanent dream state for the entire film-- i wanted to wake up long enough to see the characters develop more deeply, and sink my mind into the arch of the plot. for what it was worth, the film wandered without destination, and offered some beautifully strange scenery along the way.

random side note: ben brought it to my attention that dan simmons not only has the world's most vintage imdb site (back from the monsters episode where matt leblanc first appeared on the tube), but his trivia includes "has a daughter, Jane". much, much giggling ensued, followed by the song "raaan-dooom!"

i'm starting to feel sleepy-face again, but there are new york details to hammer out (www.evildeadthemusical.com -- can we say "splatter zone"?!), a cello to practice and a long beautiful day ahead to meet. yesterday i went to the mountains, and part of me wants to head right back up-- i can't remember ever seeing aspen groves as beautiful as the ones i've seen this month. fall, don't leave me! it will be too painful, and our love is too deep. sighhhh.