Jesse and Ben and Paranormal Activity

I keep running into Jesse Eisenberg. Why IS that? Am I meant to speak with him? And why Ben Affleck? Ran into him a couple times also.

Oh, I know they are making movies in Boston and Cambridge, but I have NOT been going out of my way to find them. I am just peddling down the street on my bike and suddenly there is Jesse in front of my face. Or I’m writing at Au Bon Pain, and there’s Ben looking at me while he takes a break from filming.

Maybe I need to finally FINISH my two screenplays. Or write a new one, all about difficult men and the havoc they can wreak in one’s life. Speaking of which—if you haven’t seen Paranormal Activity, and you are in the mood for a feminist revenge fantasy disguised as a horror movie, check it out! Really, it’s hilarious. Some kind of parable there. I noticed the main people saying "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight" after the movie were male. Sorry, but that did make me laugh...personally I slept fine.

I Need more Fun in my Life!!! NOW!!!!

Not really a blog, this. Just putting it out there. I realized today that I spend far too much of my life being serious, worrying, working, fretting, not liking my roommate, not really being able to relate well to Boston-type people, missing some guy who very RUDELY ditched me for no apparent reason, and what I really want is to have some FUN!!!!

So I'm putting it out there to the universe: I need to have some good clean (or slightly dirty would be fine too) FUN!!! SOON!

Like Nick explained about hooking Mariah. "Speak it so." So I am speaking FUN into my life.

OK, so what would that include? Laughing with someone I can really relate to. Dancing. Listening to some amazing music. Talking, exchanging ideas and observations, again with someone I can really relate to (which would be: smart, creative, unusual, quirky, open, funny, honest, compassionate, brave, silly, intuitive, deep). Feeling beautiful, and finding other people also beautiful. Giving and receiving physical affection, nice comfy hugs and kisses (and MORE with the right person!). Singing. Playing guitar, even if I am pretty much horrible at it. Traveling somewhere really interesting, even if only for a few days. (well, heck, a trip around the world would even be better!) Finding a great movie I want to see over and over again. Leaf-peeping NOW before all the leaves in these parts are blown off the trees. Walking around Walden Pond and seeing that beautiful blue loon again. Free money!! Yes! I WOULD like to win the lottery!!! Two or three million dollars should do it. But I will happily take more.

Wait a minute, universe! I just spoke FUN into my life and here comes Howie and his beloved wife, sitting right next to me. I meant fun as in REAL fun, not "drive me crazy til I want to scream” psychosis that sometimes passes for fun. C'mon universe!!! Listen to me for once! I need REAL, soul nourishing FUN!!!! And that includes depth, connection, fire (as in volcanic fire!), wind (as in wild thunderstorm wind), water (as in warm tropical), earth (as in moist, warm, smells GREAT earth), love (as in ALL kinds of wonderful real love), joy (as in gee I feel GREAT joy) and complete and utter silliness.

Thanks universe. Howie and wife have moved to another spot. I think I might just go see a movie. In anticipation of more REAL fun today and every day of my life.

PS I asked for fun and then 4 of the weirdest people in HvdSq sat near me. First Howie and Wife, then old chunky big Man who thinks he is the best of everything in the entire world (long annoying conversation with him a couple years ago at Starbucks while he drank whiskey from a flask), and now thin man with glasses in red jacket who obsessively cleans tables and chairs before he sits down and then looks at me like he hates my guts when in fact I don’t even know his name!!! Ay yi yi!!!! This is NOT exactly what I have in mind, universe!!!!!!! I know you have your own quirky sense of humor, but.... Come ON!!!!

Ben Affleck and the Brighton Electric Gigolo Van

So this is the second day I have seen Ben Affleck hanging out in Harvard Square. OK, he’s not just hanging out, he’s acting in and directing a film. Fortunately, it’s right next to my usual hang-out, the outdoor Au Bon Pain patio. So I can sit here and write, read, drink tea, while simultaneously watching Ben and his team prepare for a shot that will take two hours to set up, 7 minutes to film, and end up as a 30 second blip in his film, “The Town”.

One positive off-shoot of this film crew’s presence is that the normally cloned appearance of a Cambridge denizen seems to miraculously transform the minute the person catches sight of the lights and cameras. First, a quick hand to the hair to fix the locks. Then the face settles into character. I have noted quite a range: quirky character actor, romantic lead, Allston indy-type, intellectual snob, corporate criminal, homeless drunk or druggy, off-the-meds crazed schizo, studious but handsome nerd (male or female), worried mother, sad father, and on and on. Or maybe, these people are here all the time and they only look unique because I am seeing them through film-crew-colored glasses?

Now I notice a few people who look like versions of various movie stars. Here is a guy who looks a lot like Scottish actor Ewan McGregor. Now another guy, a shorter skinnier version of Denzel Washington. Oh, and there’s that woman who plays Sami on “Days of Our Lives”, my new favorite unemployed pastime. Just love it!

Did you know Sami is trying to HELP Nicole keep her adopted baby Sydney, who is actually Sami’s baby, although Sami thinks she buried her own baby Grace awhile ago (but Grace was really teenage Mia’s baby, switched by Nicole), and meanwhile Nicole is actually a former porn star who is married to EJ, who thinks baby Sydney is no relation to him, but in fact EJ IS the father, and EJ is the son of Stefano Dimero, one of Salem’s Mafioso-type patriarchs who lies on his possible death bed, knowing the truth but in a coma, so how can he help? And all that after watching this soap for only ONE week!

Man, THAT is my ideal job! A writer for a soap opera. They must have so much fun thinking up this stuff!!!

So now a cop makes us all move away from the Au Bon Pain wall so we won’t be in the shot. Like HOW am I going to be in the shot? This looks like a medium close up again. Anyway. They should be so lucky as to have me in their movie, and for free! I know I will bring luck. I usually do.

I have to admit I am getting a little tired of hearing that name...Ben Affleck Ben Affleck Ben Affleck. I never minded it before but it is starting to drive me NUTS. Sorry, Ben!

Yesterday a woman watching the scene with me noted that the PA’s (the grunts) didn’t seem to be “very talented”. Just as she made this comment, and I laughed, a young guy driving what looked like an adult-size open playpen with a motor almost ran into one of the bigger wigs on the set, an intense, slightly chubby curly-haired guy who keeps telling people not to take photos with their flashes on.

Most of the people wandering around this set are men, with a few women. I’d say 90% male, come on BEN! Give the girls a break! Hire more WOMEN!!!.

Now they are filming inside the maroon red robbery van which reads “Brighton Electric” and in smaller letters underneath, “Fast • Reliable • Professional” and then “Serving Greater Boston”. I am thinking this would be a perfect van for a gigolo from Brighton, not that I know anyone who would fit the bill. With a shag rug, a psychedelic poster and a disco mirror ball on the interior, the Brighton Electric Gigolo Service could function like a Bookmobile!!! But without books, maybe a few magazines, and of course specialized services...

OK so I see that Ben’s scarlet red Boston Red Sox toque has moved down the street. See what I mean, after all that time setting up, it took all of 7 minutes to film the shot. A lot like sex with a difficult man. And sometimes, after all that work, the 7 minute shot is just completely edited out, as though it never happened! And maybe it never did! Again, a lot like sex with a difficult man.

Ben was looking at me at one point (not that I think Ben is difficult, but then again...). Yes, Ben, I probably am one of the few truly interesting people you might meet here in Cambridge. But I have a headache, for real. Maybe next film.

Bob, Al Green and The Witch of Salem

So last week I met Bob, who was thin and drunk and mustachioed and shivering on a bus bench, after catching the Rev. Al Green in concert at the House of Blues. [Al was great, inspiring and charming, incredible band, two WONDERFUL drummers, but the show was a tad brief...sorry Rev. Al!]

I thought maybe Bob wanted the bench space to himself, so when he turned to me, I said, "Sorry--just waiting for the One Bus to Cambridge". Bob replied, "Do you have a cell phone?" Warily, I said, "Yeah. Do you need to use it?", hoping he would not abscond with it, or maybe worse, vomit on my phone. Bob said, "Can you call 911 for me? I'm dying here."

Wow. Now I felt like a jerk, for thinking bad thoughts about Bob. I'm familiar with that "I'm dying here" feeling, so I asked, "What's going on?" Bob held out his gnarled shaking hands and said, "I can't stop shaking. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the cold, but I feel like I'm dying. I need to get to a hospital." It was really cold and damp. Bob's short green jacket was way too thin for the weather. I figured maybe Bob had hypothermia, and I told him so.

Bob told me he felt like laying down on the bench and going to sleep. He leaned over. I tugged on his jacket and said, "I don't think that's a good idea. You really need to stay awake." That's what I remembered from Red Cross training in high school. Drugs, head trauma, hypothermia. Keep the victim awake til they get to the hospital.

As I fished in my backpack for my phone, Bob explained to me he had already asked several passersby if they could help by calling 911, but everyone had ignored him. Oh yes, Boston, that warmest and kindest of all places!

I called 911. I explained that I thought Bob had hypothermia, and could they get there ASAP? The woman on the other end said, "five or ten minutes".

To take Bob's mind off his distress while we waited, I decided to make conversation. I asked his name-- "Bob", his age "45", and where he was from "Salem". "I wish I was there now, " said Bob.

"Oh, yeah, the Witch Capital of the Northeast," I commented. Bob eyed my long red hair and black and red clothing and asked, "Are you a witch?" I said "No", but Bob didn't believe me.

"It's OK with me, I don't mind witches," he said, to reassure me.

I told him, "It's not that I don't believe in that stuff, I just think you have to be very, very careful with it, or it can come back and bite you in the ass." Bob nodded in agreement.

I looked down Mass Ave toward the Hynes Center, hoping the ambulance would arrive quickly. I didn't want to miss my bus.

"I know Laurie Cabot, the Witch of Salem," Bob announced.

"You do?" I asked.

Bob said, "Yep. I went to high school with her daughter."

I nodded, curious about what was coming next.

"Her daughter and I got caught smoking weed together one day at school. Sent to the principal's office. They called our Moms. My Mom got there first. Then a big black limousine pulled up in front of the school. Laurie Cabot got out, 6 feet tall, hair to her waist, long black robes, carrying a skull and a witch's staff."

"A skull?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yep," said Bob. "A skull...so anyways, my Mom started to speak up, but my Mom looked kinda normal. I took one look at Laurie Cabot, and said to my Mom, 'I think we better let Laurie Cabot handle this.' "

"So did Laurie Cabot 'handle' it?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said Bob. "You shoulda seen the look on the principal's face." Bob made his eyes huge and terrified. "He was scared to death. They let us go home with just a warning."

I laughed, loudly. Bob laughed too. Passersby with zealously guarded cell phones looked over to see what all the happy ruckus was about. Bob and I laughed some more, while Bob shivered and I listened for the ambulance.

A few minutes, both the ambulance and the bus pulled up. Bob told me to go ahead and grab my bus, but I figured I should wait to make sure he was properly cared for. He wobbled badly getting on the ambulance, but the emergency worker didn't think he had hypothermia. She put a latex-gloved hand inside the top of this shirt to touch his bare skin. No explanation to Bob about what she was doing. I thought this was disrespectful. Bob was drunk, not comatose. But she said since his skin was warm, if he had hypothermia, it was mild. Bob looked a little annoyed by her hand on his chest, but I think he was mostly worried about dyin' at that moment, so he didn't say anything.

They had a heater in the ambulance and blasted it directly at Bob. I waited until they left in the direction of the Boston Medical Center. I hope the doctors there took good care of Bob. I hope someone gives Bob a proper winter coat. I hope Bob gets into detox, soon. And that it sticks this time.

Bob has some great stories to tell. I'm pretty sure that with the life he has lived, he has a couple dozen books inside of him desperate to get out.

Thanks Bob, for letting me sit next to you, and sharing your amazing story. I feel really lucky. Sorry for worrying about my stupid phone. Hope you are OK.

Cambridge Clones, Ghosts and Marching Bands

OK, So I have tried, I really have, to be more open-minded about the clones who populate Cambridge, MA. I have gone out dancing at Cantab on Thursday night. As long as I focus on the Chicken Slacks (the Thursday band) and my dancing, I'm fine. But the minute a blond Cambridge clone hits me in the head with her elbow and I'm therefore forced to look around to let her know she might want to NOT do that again, to avoid a bar brawl with me, I am dismayed to find that yes of course, the bar is filled with Cambridge clones. It's like some kind of "Village of the Damned" nightmare, vacant eyes and empty gestures with a great soundtrack.

Today I went to Oktoberfest in Harvard Square. Also Honkfest, plenty of small marching bands playing some funky tunes. Pretty good musicians, and WOMEN playing trombone and drums. YAY! But.......somehow even the Allston hipsters strike me as clones, in their own hipster way. Cool funky clothes but no vibe, no feeling, no depth, nothing there.

Someone told me once that the strange thing about people in Boston (which includes Allston and Cambridge) is that, although one can see they are PHYSICALLY occupying space, they actually don't seem to BE HERE at all. So I guess the problem is I am trying to relate to ghosts.

But wait a minute. I do NOT mean to insult ghosts. I lived with one for 15 years in Montreal. He was a sad thin twenty-something man, dressed in WWI army fatigues. When I first saw him, I thought maybe the shrooms from my teenage years were kicking up some dust in my brain, so I didn't mention it to anyone. But then a roommate, somewhat irate, demanded to know why I had not informed her there was a ghost living in my flat. When she described him, yes, it was the same man. And guess what? My ghost friend had MORE depth, more vibe, more gravitas, more LIFE than most of the Cambridge clones. Wow. How weird is that.

Maybe I need to move to Mexico. The people down there have light in their eyes and magic is in the air. Oh, but the police are horrible...that's another story. For now I'm just thinking of a long trip on a train (I love trains, traveling on them, meeting people, watching the countryside roll past) to unknown parts. Even NYC. Just desperately need to feast my eyes on a few REAL people, talk to some really smart NYC cab driver about how the economy is going to totally tank in a few years (this really happened in 2005). And try to erase the image of the sad, empty-eyed Cambridge clones from my brain. Vampire energy suckers, that's what they are. And I am really sick and tired of having my energy drained by these vampire clones. Maybe I WILL start wearing a garlic necklace to protect myself. Or, just move the hell out of Cambridge. SOON!