This is the scene outside of my building. To the naked eye, it looks like just another movie shoot—in this case, it's Charlie Kaufman's new flick Synecdoche.
Closing down streets for a movie shoot is never without deeper ramifications; where will the residents park? Why is this idiot PA telling me I can't walk down my street? Little irritants like that can really kill the excitement of having Academy-Award winners on your block.
But in this case, we're looking at more than your average discomforts—I don't want to be alarmist, but we're facing a crisis at the corner of Richardson and Union: If Royal Oak is busy housing the likes of Michelle Williams and Philip Seymour Hoffman, where in the hell are Williamsburg's youth going to score their coke? Where will underage Bambi from Staten Island vomit up 16 Long Island Iced Teas if not on my front stoop? How will I know it's 4:30 AM if I can't count on the Last-Call Larrys to wake me up by shouting Doors lyrics at top volume? This is shaping up to be a very long and confusing week.
I can't believe people are still doing coke! Hearing this makes me want to score a $15 ounce of seedy Mexican, drink some sloe gin and go to the drive-in movies. Where I live it's all X, Meth, Absolute and Oxy.
Posted by: Paul | June 27, 2007 at 09:53 AM
man, vomit is gross. as i left work on friday night, a man was heaving his guts out into a phone booth. he left, chin dripping, headed straight toward me, but before i had time to dart to the left or right, he was back in the phone booth, heaving up more. yuk. at least he wasn't singing the doors.
Posted by: kate | June 27, 2007 at 04:04 PM
Curious about your review on the scenes of imaginary love conflict eternal sunshine... did you think it was tenderness or brutalness that presided? What if you experienced that in real life except your berish was more of a nicholas cage from leaving las vegas...
Posted by: Ivy | July 11, 2007 at 11:12 PM
PS. Left you a desperate collumn question at two in the morning. I'm having a hard time accomodating society, much less a clumsy oaf who can't clean up after himself. I feel like Charlotte with Harry cleaning up the tea bags from Sex in the City.. Even if the character test said I was Carrie.
Posted by: Ivy | July 11, 2007 at 11:14 PM