Love Thy Neighbor (and their little dog, too)

The "sexy" thing about a town like New York is that you can cross paths with rarely seen friends, neighbors and other folks on the sidewalk -- just like in the movies. One unsexy thing about such spontaneous moments is when it happens outside the window of your apartment as you're drifting to sleep. Such social outreach can be trying enough; but let's not even work in the concept of everyone's favorite pooch, otherwise known as the block's mysterious doodie dropper. An obedient dog who keeps his "whoofs" to a minimum is always a cool thing. However, a slightly drunken owner and an excitable pup are grounds to raise the blinds -- especially if the conversation exceeds 15 minutes.

Raising one set of blinds, I offered a hairy eyeball to one of the three socializers. The discussion would come to an end or travel elsewhere, I thought. Nope, the dog sees another encroaching upon his spot of sidewalk. "Whoof-whoof!" Do I really need to open the other blind? More drunken pitching came forth.

Such action merited an unabashed eyeball after raising the other set of blinds. Silly bastards! Whatever happened to inviting company over for a nice cocktail: a high-ball, martini, gin & tonic, rum & coke, hot toddy? No more. Gone are the days when the ways of dressing formally simply to appear respectable. Terms such as "sir" and "ma'am" are considered punchlines. Dinner parties: huh, not on these salaries/wages/earnings/pickin's. Since so few on the block has their "own" place, it's not quite like the movies here.

Red Light. Green Light.

I tend to make declarations and/or observations when I note powerful forces of the universe. While there haven't been eclipses or comet sightings, there has been movement in one gal's near stagnant career. During a five-month hiatus due to a corporate downsizing, I have been fortunate enough to enjoy a bit of a free-fall while job-hunting. This window has afforded time to finalize scripts that had been been long-neglected, enabled development of future projects, let alone allowed me to catch my breath and flirt. If there's a decent severance package, a pink slip right before summer can't be that bad.

Nonetheless, nearing the end of the "gravy train" of severance and unemployment, a girl has scrambled to find the right fit. After a few days of staring at my brick walls wondering "what to do next," the phone rang -- so to speak. Two job interviews in a week, plus an orientation regarding the fiscal sponsorship of a film project. Hoo-stinkin'-rah!!! Prior to getting this week, there were signs that "the good" was moving back in my direction. Of the DOZENS of query letters and applications submitted since January (prior to my formal exodus), I've only received six -- two in the last two weeks. Considering the two interviews are within my field and are respectable positions, it's pleasing to have not one but two orgs take an interest in a gal hurtling closer to Earth -- (yikes) in too many ways.

The fiscal sponsorship meeting was also affirming in that it was a testament to the quality of the project as well as the strengths of the promotional material. The organization selects projects twice a year into their fiscal sponsorship program. Of this group, we were one of the eight projects selected. It seems as if we had a great deal of competition. The climb only gets higher from here

Filthy Summer People

The title only winks at my bond with the American people, let alone New Yorkers. In a nutshell, Satan came to Earth and hates to catch a chill. My routine now includes three showers a day. Personally, I don't normally feel I must be so thoroughly rid of bacteria and filth. However, even with the passing of a summer heatwave the itch, grit and stickiness cooled sweat leaves the skin after a thirty minute wait on a subway platform merits a scrub.

Last Monday or Tuesday night I lilted home after midnight astonished at the temperatures still above 90 degrees Farenheit. A week later and with temps in the 70s above ground, the subway platforms remain ovens. Perspiration finds its way onto exposed flesh. Damp marks permeate clothing and define spaces both obvious and quite modest. Wiping a trickle only elicits a stream.

While feeling the "goo" and desiring to scrub is uncomfortable, far worse is having a whiff of a neighbor or fellow traveler. To no fault of their own except being human and having a propensity for B.O., the heat has placed them in such a damaging predicament -- public scorn and redicule; a point of derision; the smelly kid (adult, if it were). As unpleasant as travel with this passenger is, even more devestating is his/her perspective -- knowledgable of their own funk and trapped in a public space unable to tidy; unable to make eye contact with hateful expressions assaulted by a toxic odor; gassed by fumes of their own making.

Enjoy it while it lasts!

Let's Get It On!!!

Not only is today my mother's birthday, but it marks the premiere of this girl's blog. Considering my many rantings and ramblings, a public post for the verbage is certainly expected. My pressing question is how to make the Idle Chatter blog worth while and not text with the same presence as cyber road kill. Being mission bound has always been grounds for procrastination. Hopefully, I can stumble along the way and purport to offer substance and rot.

Since I did offer a toast to Momma on her birthday, cheers in advance to my friend and blogging compadre -- QueenChee of Chicago/Bklyn. She must be sipping on something toxic in Mexico. With the heat we've been enduring in the asphalt jungle, I hope she's got a foot in the ocean or a pool.

As much as I'd like to ramble with more detail -- time to prep for a date. We're seeing trash to offer the suitor a good chuckle: Little Man with the Wayans Bros.

Adieu!!!