Charlie,
How are you?? I am guessing not great – but perhaps
spring is lifting your spirits some? I find as I get older that Spring is a
very powerful drug for me.
What are you doing with your free time? Would you like to
go to a movie or something? Get a drink? Sit in the park? Can I bring you
some vittles? I am guessing that getting to the grocery store is increasingly a
pain in the butt.
Have you heard from Cee ? She sent me a disquieting email
about breaking up with Jonathan, and now she’s in CA and not returning calls
(to me).
Love,
Katelin
Katelin
I'm good.
A little sore and tired.
Sometimes angry, but good.
A lot on my plate.
I get up and bike to various appointments and go to work which I like-hate.
Frustrated because I've had to turn down paid acting work. I NEED money but my voice is tired and slow.
I just bought $250 worth of kitchen stuff from Crate and Barrel. And I am trying to blog about my adventures.
This sunday the short film I made is showing downt town in east village land.
I WANT to make another short and WILL as soon as I settle into some sort of recognizable plan of action.
I e-mailed Cee to bring the kids to my place for a weekend. An offer.
I got a fragmented email back. Short ... "I'll call you sometime"
That's how I respond to people.
I wonder if she's okay?
I guess she's at her brother's?
Hope YOU are swell.
Isn't life interesting?
Charlie
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
LETTER
Dear Dr. Ranjan,
I hope you are well these days.Thank you again for writing that letter. I called my insurance company but they had not received it yet. Sorry to bother you with this. I wonder if you would fax it again. Please fax it to 818 944 4423 attention Barbara Kesley.
Thank you Dr. Ranjan,
Best,
Mr. Roberts
I hope you are well these days.Thank you again for writing that letter. I called my insurance company but they had not received it yet. Sorry to bother you with this. I wonder if you would fax it again. Please fax it to 818 944 4423 attention Barbara Kesley.
Thank you Dr. Ranjan,
Best,
Mr. Roberts
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
MAGIC ACT
I see Topal, physical therapist to the stars!
He works out of a red brick 1950's apartment complex on west 60th near Columbus Circle. I've passed it a million times. Now I am inside it.
Topal's office looks like a talent agency.
There are framed glossies of ballerinas, pianists, along with the likes of Al Green, Kathleen Turner, and Marlo Thomas.
The Russian receptionist (blond mop of hair, zebra patterned dress and diamonds on her mules) asks me to fill out one sheet of paper.
She is impatient. Either she's fed up with her job, or she's seen my type before.
Then Topal enters and takes me back to his work room.
He is high energy and I am very clearly low energy.
It would be unlikely to get "a rise" out of me these days.
So as Topal takes stage, I am his mousey stage assistant.
Topal's therapy is a magic act. He doesn't ask me questions, he tells ME answers.
It's nice to have someone take charge in high energy mode. And he should be in high energy mode because his fee is $250 for an hour visit, half of which he isn't present, his assistant takes over.
"Chaz, you're having problems is your right hip!"
"No", (I say) it's Charlie, like Charles. And my problem is a bit more extensive than that. I explain.
We go through the ritual of tests. The arm strength test. The balancing on one foot. The push down on the knee test.
My weaknesses both startle and invigoarate him.
"lie down on your back, relax!"
I lie down on his especially designed bed that can come part and move in different directions.
He presses his fingers into my internal organs and says "bereeeathe, don't pooosh)
His assistant joins us and my legs are being lifted and pointed in different diractions while the pressure points in my neck are being worked over.
I am the centerpeice in a three man magic act. Judy Garland warbles triumphantly from the Palace in the background.
" I am not Christ, I can't create miracles but I can make you feel bet-taire"
he says, his Russian accent thick and theatrical.
We talk about Mary (the friend who recommended him) He talks about her brother who drowned in Connecticut three of four years ago.
"Her brother, wonderful person, wondeful person. You know, (he confides as he pushes down on my diaphram and massages my inner neck) I think he knew he was going to go. I think he knew he would be leaving. Wonderful person."
They ask me to move my feet (in a way that I can't anymore) and then THEY move my feet FOR me.
"Ahhhh... that feels nice," I say.
Topal is concerned about my course of action and tells me to go see my Rabi. I tell him that I'm going to the Christian Scientist Church.
"ahhh, that's good, that's good."
" And you need to see Al- tare-no-tive doctaire, do you hear? Al-tare-no-tive doctaire." He looks me in the eye the second time to make sure I’m getting him.
(you're alternative- aren't you? I think but don't say)
I tell him, " I don't have a specific course of action but maybe just by feeling better in general, by seeing therapists like you , I can arrest the problem."
"Yes! yes, Yes! Deedn't you go to my website?"
The session is concentrated and energetic and pretty good. But a lot of money. My insurance may cover some of it.
They leave me alone to dress and attend to another patient.
An elderly man. He's talking about how when he was a young man, he used to drive across the country, There were no super highways, you drove through town to town. And because there was no air-conditioning , you had to drive with the windows down. It would take six to seven days.
"How many mile eeez that?" asks Topal or Topal's assistant.
"Thirty-five hundred miles", answers the older man.
(I memorize that number because when I was a young man, I biked across the country and people always ask me how long it took and how many miles, but I can never remember the number. Now I know.
It's 3500.
I dress myself and take a picture of the bed I've been lying in (with my I-phone)
The Russian blonde receptionist has to take care of paperwork. She is b*tchy. I am to pay the entire fee now and my insurance company will pay ME back. Do I know how to write to the insurance company?
I ask HER to take care of that. (Isn't that your job?!!!)
She agrees to do it without looking at me or cracking a smile. Like she was caught.
She asks me if I know the fee?
"Yes, $165."
"No, no, no, no, no, That was a long time ago."
"That's what's on your website," I say with out accusation. I'm just reporting what is on their website.
She doesn't respond.
I make another appointment for two weeks from now and wonder if I'll keep it.
He works out of a red brick 1950's apartment complex on west 60th near Columbus Circle. I've passed it a million times. Now I am inside it.
Topal's office looks like a talent agency.
There are framed glossies of ballerinas, pianists, along with the likes of Al Green, Kathleen Turner, and Marlo Thomas.
The Russian receptionist (blond mop of hair, zebra patterned dress and diamonds on her mules) asks me to fill out one sheet of paper.
She is impatient. Either she's fed up with her job, or she's seen my type before.
Then Topal enters and takes me back to his work room.
He is high energy and I am very clearly low energy.
It would be unlikely to get "a rise" out of me these days.
So as Topal takes stage, I am his mousey stage assistant.
Topal's therapy is a magic act. He doesn't ask me questions, he tells ME answers.
It's nice to have someone take charge in high energy mode. And he should be in high energy mode because his fee is $250 for an hour visit, half of which he isn't present, his assistant takes over.
"Chaz, you're having problems is your right hip!"
"No", (I say) it's Charlie, like Charles. And my problem is a bit more extensive than that. I explain.
We go through the ritual of tests. The arm strength test. The balancing on one foot. The push down on the knee test.
My weaknesses both startle and invigoarate him.
"lie down on your back, relax!"
I lie down on his especially designed bed that can come part and move in different directions.
He presses his fingers into my internal organs and says "bereeeathe, don't pooosh)
His assistant joins us and my legs are being lifted and pointed in different diractions while the pressure points in my neck are being worked over.
I am the centerpeice in a three man magic act. Judy Garland warbles triumphantly from the Palace in the background.
" I am not Christ, I can't create miracles but I can make you feel bet-taire"
he says, his Russian accent thick and theatrical.
We talk about Mary (the friend who recommended him) He talks about her brother who drowned in Connecticut three of four years ago.
"Her brother, wonderful person, wondeful person. You know, (he confides as he pushes down on my diaphram and massages my inner neck) I think he knew he was going to go. I think he knew he would be leaving. Wonderful person."
They ask me to move my feet (in a way that I can't anymore) and then THEY move my feet FOR me.
"Ahhhh... that feels nice," I say.
Topal is concerned about my course of action and tells me to go see my Rabi. I tell him that I'm going to the Christian Scientist Church.
"ahhh, that's good, that's good."
" And you need to see Al- tare-no-tive doctaire, do you hear? Al-tare-no-tive doctaire." He looks me in the eye the second time to make sure I’m getting him.
(you're alternative- aren't you? I think but don't say)
I tell him, " I don't have a specific course of action but maybe just by feeling better in general, by seeing therapists like you , I can arrest the problem."
"Yes! yes, Yes! Deedn't you go to my website?"
The session is concentrated and energetic and pretty good. But a lot of money. My insurance may cover some of it.
They leave me alone to dress and attend to another patient.
An elderly man. He's talking about how when he was a young man, he used to drive across the country, There were no super highways, you drove through town to town. And because there was no air-conditioning , you had to drive with the windows down. It would take six to seven days.
"How many mile eeez that?" asks Topal or Topal's assistant.
"Thirty-five hundred miles", answers the older man.
(I memorize that number because when I was a young man, I biked across the country and people always ask me how long it took and how many miles, but I can never remember the number. Now I know.
It's 3500.
I dress myself and take a picture of the bed I've been lying in (with my I-phone)
The Russian blonde receptionist has to take care of paperwork. She is b*tchy. I am to pay the entire fee now and my insurance company will pay ME back. Do I know how to write to the insurance company?
I ask HER to take care of that. (Isn't that your job?!!!)
She agrees to do it without looking at me or cracking a smile. Like she was caught.
She asks me if I know the fee?
"Yes, $165."
"No, no, no, no, no, That was a long time ago."
"That's what's on your website," I say with out accusation. I'm just reporting what is on their website.
She doesn't respond.
I make another appointment for two weeks from now and wonder if I'll keep it.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
DRESS REHEARSAL
I go the theartre, a dress rehearsal for MARY STUART at the Broadhurst on Broadway.
http://theater2.nytimes.com/2009/04/20/theater/reviews/20mary.html
I recognise people that I know in the audience. A couple of actors on stage. (playing small roles)
(I've lived in New York 24 years. It's a small community, really)
The produciton has traveled from the Donmar Warehouse in London. It stars Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter.
I watch people walk and run and kneel.
I'm not sure I want to go the theatre anymore.
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