I see Leah sweating in leotards. I haven't seen her in eight months.
We met working for a charity that helps kids with AIDS make their own movie project.
It's called Hollywood Heart.
After the screening, the writer/director Tony Gilroy (I think he won the oscar) showed up for a talk back. (He'd clearly had a few drinks). This was his first time directing, he said. I remember him talking about directing Sydney Pollack and asking the venerated director for advice on how to direct a scene that Pollack was in. But Pollack resisted and told him to figure it out himself. Pollack was relishing his moment (just being) the actor. I can just picture that moment, I mean, I can relate to Pollack. I love, that as an actor, your only responsibility is to the character and your performance. A good director respects this, encourages it. It's a great feeling.
Tony Gilroy had a lot of confidence. I wanted to be Tony Gilroy.
We took a bus home after the screening and I remember telling Leah I wished I could write like Gilroy. Leah told me she was shopping for a mini cooper.
So I'm at my gym. Leah spots me across the room.
She crosses to me. I stay where I am. I couldn't slip away for the world.
I used to feel sorry for him. He was so solemn when he swam.
When I would sit next to him on the only bench in the men's locker room, I'd glance at his detached leg and feel lucky. As he hopped around on one foot (naked) - I felt saved from life's more tragic accidents. And now I feel like I got the short end of the stick. I'M that guy. And the one legged man swims away scott free, his problems contained and solvable.
______________________
I get an email from Leah the next day.
Hey Charlie,
Good to see you the other day at the gym. It's been a long time.
I wanted to let you know that I since I have a car and go food shopping up at Fairway on 125th St. on a weekly basis, if you ever wanted to come with, please let me know. In addition, please don't hesitate in calling me (anytime) if you need a ride somewhere. I'm just 9 floors away.
Talk soon.
Leah
http://www.hollywoodheart.org
Leah is smart and fun and and rich (I guess).
She never seems to have a job. (The apartments in my building aren't cheap).
She's blonde and athletic and carries herself like she does improv twice a week, like she could do the HAROLD. Her humor (I imagine) covers up gobs of disappointment.
Leah manages that (neat trick) of being both outgoing and remote.
A couple of years ago, Leah and I went to a Writer's Guild screening of "Michael Clayton".
There were about twenty of us in a small projection room in midtown, in one of those towering corporate skyscrapers on the Avenue of the Americas.
Leah is smart and fun and and rich (I guess).
She never seems to have a job. (The apartments in my building aren't cheap).
She's blonde and athletic and carries herself like she does improv twice a week, like she could do the HAROLD. Her humor (I imagine) covers up gobs of disappointment.
Leah manages that (neat trick) of being both outgoing and remote.
A couple of years ago, Leah and I went to a Writer's Guild screening of "Michael Clayton".
There were about twenty of us in a small projection room in midtown, in one of those towering corporate skyscrapers on the Avenue of the Americas.
After the screening, the writer/director Tony Gilroy (I think he won the oscar) showed up for a talk back. (He'd clearly had a few drinks). This was his first time directing, he said. I remember him talking about directing Sydney Pollack and asking the venerated director for advice on how to direct a scene that Pollack was in. But Pollack resisted and told him to figure it out himself. Pollack was relishing his moment (just being) the actor. I can just picture that moment, I mean, I can relate to Pollack. I love, that as an actor, your only responsibility is to the character and your performance. A good director respects this, encourages it. It's a great feeling.
Tony Gilroy had a lot of confidence. I wanted to be Tony Gilroy.
We took a bus home after the screening and I remember telling Leah I wished I could write like Gilroy. Leah told me she was shopping for a mini cooper.
So I'm at my gym. Leah spots me across the room.
She crosses to me. I stay where I am. I couldn't slip away for the world.
Leah knows about me (through gossip?)
"How you feeling?"
I muster a healthy sounding voice and cheerful expression.
"Oh, I'm hanging in there."
(I feel fine. That's what I SHOULD say)
"Whadya you do this summer?"
(Leah spent the summer on Cape Cod teaching pilates)
"What did I do?" I respond a little too acidly.
I recover.
"Hmm... that's a good question, what DID I do?"
(I sat on the couch and drank coffee)
"How you feeling?"
I muster a healthy sounding voice and cheerful expression.
"Oh, I'm hanging in there."
(I feel fine. That's what I SHOULD say)
"Whadya you do this summer?"
(Leah spent the summer on Cape Cod teaching pilates)
"What did I do?" I respond a little too acidly.
I recover.
"Hmm... that's a good question, what DID I do?"
(I sat on the couch and drank coffee)
After a few more exchanges, we make plans to (run into each other) in the building again!
Ha Ha. This lame suggestion is mine. And when Leah turns to go, I slide along the wall hoping she won't turn around in time to see how decrepit I've become.
I swim in the pool, for 15 minutes, never pushing.
And as I swim, I notice a man in the lane next to me.
(There's that guy!)
I noticed this man a few years ago.
This man is an intense swimmer. He creates a lot of splashing. This man is missing a leg.
When he gets out of the pool, this man is able to hop about without the use of his prosthetic leg. (no problem with HIS motor neurons).
Ha Ha. This lame suggestion is mine. And when Leah turns to go, I slide along the wall hoping she won't turn around in time to see how decrepit I've become.
I swim in the pool, for 15 minutes, never pushing.
And as I swim, I notice a man in the lane next to me.
(There's that guy!)
I noticed this man a few years ago.
This man is an intense swimmer. He creates a lot of splashing. This man is missing a leg.
When he gets out of the pool, this man is able to hop about without the use of his prosthetic leg. (no problem with HIS motor neurons).
I used to feel sorry for him. He was so solemn when he swam.
When I would sit next to him on the only bench in the men's locker room, I'd glance at his detached leg and feel lucky. As he hopped around on one foot (naked) - I felt saved from life's more tragic accidents. And now I feel like I got the short end of the stick. I'M that guy. And the one legged man swims away scott free, his problems contained and solvable.
______________________
I get an email from Leah the next day.
Hey Charlie,
Good to see you the other day at the gym. It's been a long time.
I wanted to let you know that I since I have a car and go food shopping up at Fairway on 125th St. on a weekly basis, if you ever wanted to come with, please let me know. In addition, please don't hesitate in calling me (anytime) if you need a ride somewhere. I'm just 9 floors away.
Talk soon.
Leah
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