The Broadway Flea Market!

Woke up this morning at 9:05AM to the soothing sounds of NPR.  Waking up relatively early to meet your friend in mid-town always sounds like a better idea the night before than it does the morning of. And yet, this will be a full day, so it's best to tackle the Broadway Flea Market early.

A few words on the Broadway Flea Market... this is an amazing annual event organized by "Broadway Cares" to raise money to fight Aids.  It takes place in Times Square and all of Broadway unites to raise funds by selling books, programs, historical costume and set renderings, etc.  Most of the major shows will have booths which sell items representing their show, and there's an auction for some of the bigger ticket items.

One thing I am still learning when it comes to getting ANYWHERE in New York- give yourself twenty minutes more time than you think you might need.  I'd made plans to meet my friend Leslie at Juniors in New York, and unwittingly set my app to guide me toward a closed location at Grand Central Station, which of course, made me a good twenty minutes late.  Luckily, she was a little late to, so it all kind of evened out.  

Leslie brought her constant companion Lolly Lardpop, the five year old candy addict.  If you are not familiar with Lolly, or her podcast...

Our first stop was to meet Laura Ware, who was helping her friend, the extremely talented artist Justin "Squigs" Robertson to man his booth.  

Justin's portrait of Holland Taylor as Ann Richards

(Justin, Fill Milano, Laura, Lolly, Me)

Next we roamed the flea market, pawed through books and photos and costume renderings, and had a couple star sightings including Bryan Batt of "Mad Men", the hottest police officer known to man (literally scorching) and Seth Rudetsky.

I will say, as exciting as it was, it got overwhelming very quickly as it was completely packed with eager fans, and therefor, it was often difficult to get to the things at the booths.  Luckily time passed quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to meet Chita Rivera.  That's right, Chita.  Leslie is friends with her, and we were able to meet up with her for a moment after she finished signing autographs.  While we waited we talked with her daughter Rosie ( a gem of a real gem of  a lady) and got to meet Jim Caruso who was hosting this portion of the Flea Market.  Due to high demand, Chita signed well beyond the time she was booked to be there, and when she came down the stairs  she was unbelievably charming, soulful, authentic and warm.  There are some people that simply radiate kindness wherever they go, and she is certainly one of them.  It was a true pleasure to meet her.  

After meeting Chita, fatigue started to set in, and I had another event to go to, so I parted ways with Leslie and Lolly and headed off  to Brooklyn and the "Atlantic Antic".  The Antic is a giant street festival in its 41st year, celebrating Brooklyn.  My new place of employment "The New York Transit Museum" had several antique buses featured.  I didn't have to work the festival, but I definitely wanted to view the buses and support my new work mates.

It was well worth it, as Atlantic Avenue was packed tight with revelers, food and music.  In truth, I wanted to eat everything.  There was fried chicken with waffles, Mexican Corn, doughnuts, kettle corn, jerk chicken... I felt like that rat from "Charlotte's Web" who stalks the fair at night just gorging himself.  I DID limit myself and settled upon something tempting that I'd never had before.  It was called an Arepa (melted mozzarella sandwiched between two sweet corn cakes) and it was the perfect combo of savory and sweet.  I could have eaten seven.  I didn't.  Instead I distracted myself by listening to the Cuban Jazz and the Carribean music.  Eventually I did have something else, a banana cupcake with chocolate hazelnut frosting from Mahalo New York Bakery, and  oh my Jesus, it was so moist and delicious.  

On the way home from the festivities I passed a couple of ladies photographing the moon and was drawn in by it for a bit.  It's funny, because I hadn't realized tonight was the night of the SUPER MOON.  The moon would be closer than ever for one night only, and it would be eclipsed, and around eleven o'clock easter it would appear blood red in the sky.  It was quite a talking point on the way home, and for someone new to the neighborhood it was a welcome excuse to meet and chat with folks on the street, and tok, not about weather or crime or directions, but about this natural but somewhat astounding natural event.  

And now, much later, it's time for me to flop down on my air mattress and recharge.   Til' tomorrow!

New York Moments

I learned a very valuable lesson on Thursday after an interview for a position with the The New York Transit Museum.  My lesson?  When it comes to a choice of two types of shoe:

1. comfortable and a little on the casual side.
2. dressy and new, but pinchy and uncomfortable.

Choose option 1.  For Lord's sake choose 1.

I went for style, and ended up walking five miles in those miniature torture chambers.  By the end of the day I was happily, and gingerly walking behind some of the slower New Yorkers just so I'd have an excuse to give my feet a needed break.

On the upside, the interview went pretty well, and after it was complete I had the opportunity to
wander around a bit.  I definitely recommend doing so if you feel the need of a good escape, as the beautifully preserved subway cars (complete with vintage ads) give the wonderful feeling of tripping through time.  

My walk back to Brooklyn included a really lovely, small pleasure when I was greeted by the haunting sound of a trumpet.  It was such a lovely ambient, distinctly New York sound, kind of lonely and wistful.  When I got close enough to where the sound was coming from I looked up the wall of an apartment building and could make out the glint of a brass trumpet bell being aimed out the second floor window.  So the music was not some random practicing, but a deliberate gift to New York from an unknown musician.  It was a great moment.

Brooklynite!

As you most likely know, I returned from Greene, New York exactly a week ago, and have since settled in at a beautiful apartment in Brooklyn.  I'll be living with my dear friends Kirk German and Heather Huggins in a lovely, brand new building in a neighborhood that is half Hasidic Jews, and half Caribbean.  It's got a lovely and diverse feel to it, and I'm less than a quarter of a mile away from an amazing kosher market which is chock full of all the Kosher foods I've been developing such a strong affinity for lately.  Bagels, lox, knishes, chocolate babka... it's all there and I could not be happier.

The apartment itself has many perks-  a bright orange entry door, big windows letting in lots of light, big bedrooms and spacious common areas, central air conditioning, washer and dryer units in the building, and 2 bathrooms!  There have been some minor adjustments due to the newness of the complex, including  current lack of wi-fi which has me frequenting coffee shops and library even more than usual, but all in all it's been smooth and lovely.  I'm awfully grateful to Kirk and Heather doing reconnesaince while I was upstate, and the apartment is going to be a great home base for creative ventures.

My bedroom, so far, is pretty empty.  I've got a couple of suitcases full of clothes and a few books, but it all feels rather impermanent, and the nester in me is really looking forward to the next week when some of my belongings will be coming.  In the meantime however, I'm very grateful for the air mattress I rest my little head upon.

Leaving Escanaba

I've recently returned to New York City from my brief drop-in to Greene, New York to play Reuben Soady (Jeff Daniel's alter-ego) in his play Escanaba In Da Moonlight. It was really wonderful to see so many people show up (the town itself is so small that you often wonder where the people are coming from), and to get such apparent joy at the tale of the Soady families freaky and flatulent night on the eve before deer hunting season.  

As much as I enjoyed the experience, and I'm very proud of the show, I am grateful to be back.  Six weeks in a theatre in a small town, with one car shared amongst four of us, and lots and lots of free time can leave even the cheeriest person a little on the surly side, and I found myself going more than a little bonkers.  Luckily there were some wonderful friends to pass the time with, but you can't spend every waking second with them, and how many times can one drive to Barnes and Noble?  (Answer:  A lot).  All of this led to me, netflix and more oreos than I care to count, and thank God it was toward the end of the run that I realized it was possible to replace some of the constant snacking with sketching.  I had attempted some writing, and found myself in a dry spell when it came to words, but I was able to churn out a few  "drawrings", as Simon says.

Whatever you do, don't look at her hands.  :)

Girly man, my favorite kind

For those of you who were not able to attend, here are a few photos taken but the director Bill Lelbach, and feature our terrific cast (Including Dan Romero, Dan Mian, Emily Goodell, Scott Isert Huffman and Chris Knickerson, as well as his rustic set.

The absolutely charming Barby Kahl designed our costumes.  She won me on the first day when she called me "dear" and "darling".  I loved every endearment. To be fair, I am not the only one she called this, but I liked to pretend it was just me.  

What you don't see in the photos is how well loved and cared for and herded we were by Liz Howell ( my cohort on so many adventures), or  how much hard work Joey Velas put into making the set look as great as it did.  NOR can you see the lovely and feisty Faith White, who did every task under the sun, aided by Sandra Houde also who hosted a couple great gatherings at her and Bill's home.

Thanks to everyone involved, for shining your light ,and allowing me to call you "puddin'" and "bitch" on alternating days.  

Big Old Heap of Posting

I've been remiss.  This is true.  I had dreams of posting every day about the experience of being in the current production of Escaaba In Da Moonlight currently playing in Greene, New York.  And yet...

Part of it is that, it feels so strange to write about this show as I'm in it, and it's difficult to place it in context of the whole move to NYC, at least in this moment.  It has felt a bit like I dropped out of the sky into this town and plopped into a concrete compound to live with six strangers and make a family, and a piece of theatre.

The first couple of weeks was like a mad scramble to get into the mindset of these people, learn our individual tracks for the show, and breathe life into the lines.  My particular challenge has been that I'm portraying the character that Jeff Daniels, the playwright, created for himself.  He's the plays heart, and as a result it felt like I couldn't make him quite as broad as would normally be my tendency.  He had to be grounded in reality, and still be outsized and match the energy of the other family members onstage.  It's a fine line, and living in those in-between places can be difficult.

Once we reached opening night, everyone took a huge sigh of relief, as usually happens.  You spend those last hours before opening wondering "Can we do this?  Can I do this?"  And so you metaphorically sprint through those fink moments hoping you will make the finish line, and that you won't be thrown she the element of the audience is added.

It's strange, because as much as I'm ready for the days off when they come, once they are here, it can feel like I've been given a burdensome amount of time.  If I had dollars to drop I could rent a car and go on a road trip, or bus it back to New York City, and yet, right now I just can't rationalize that expenditure.  So life has turned into a routine of watching tv, going to the "store" (whether it be the drug store, the grocery store, the library, etc) and then returning to the compound.  It's a balancing act of time management, because part of me just wants to turtle it and hide out in my dark cavern of a room, but after just two hours of that, I begin to go stir crazy out of a need for external stimulation.  By the time the days off are coming to a close and we head back into the show, I am ready ta go.

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In other news, I've stopped eating red meat.  I just can't do it anymore.  The reason?  This video.  For those of you who are worried, no there's no blood or guts here, just a terrified little creature that deserves kindness.

  

Especially since there are so many delicious vegetarian meat alternatives, I've decided it is the thing to do.  I am still eating chicken and fish, and can't imagine myself ever giving up sea food, but this is a start at least.  

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In other other news, I have been working on a permanent place to live in New York, and if all goes well, I'll be making an announcement about it in the next few days.

Escanaba In Da Moonlight Opens Friday!

We start Tech for Escanaba tonight, with three more rehearsals until opening.  It's been a fast rehearsal process, as we've had about two and a half weeks, and there is a lot to think about to make the show work, but I think we are nearly ready.  The set is beautiful, we'll see the lighting and fog effects for the first time tonight... a new layer is added each day.

I have been having a lot of the typical "actor's nightmare" type of dreams the past couple of weeks.  They've all been variations on a theme-  I'm opening a show in thirty minutes and completely forget to prepare, or memorize lines, or show up to a single rehearsal.  I know they're just dreams, and yet, they are a manifestation of my deepest worries, so in one aspect they should be taken seriously.  They are a warning to prepare.  To work on my lines, study my dialect, run through the blocking in my head, make a list of personal props and between act changes, etc.  That's the only way to eliminate the nerves, and even then...

The show itself was written by Jeff Daniels, around the time he was filming Dumb and Dumber, and takes place in a cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the day before Deer Season starts.  Albert Soady, his son's Reuben and Remnar , and the "legendary" and kooky Jimmer Megamonee have gathered together to drink whiskey, play cards, and go hunting just as they have every year for the past thirty years.  The oldest son Reuben (that's me) is about to become the oldest Soady in family history to have never landed a buck, and the plot revolves around the lengths he and his family go through to keep him from ending up on the wrong end of the family record books.  It's very broad humor, definitely on the lower side, with a touch of the supernatural thrown in for good measure.  I hope it's well received as I've really enjoyed the rehearsal process so far, and am proud of the work that's gone into it.

As far as off-stage life, we've settled into a bit of a routine here:  I've been to the local diner exactly three times for breakfast, and the waitress knows my order, and brings me a Diet Coke without my asking, which is kind of delightful.  It's a cozy feeling you get here after awhile, a feeling of familiarity.  And while I definitely miss the city, and it's easy accessibility to just about anything you could ever need or want, I understand the appeal of a slower pace of life that one can get out here, and the safe and welcoming feeling of being around people who recognize and know you.

My New Home

I arrived in Greene, New York just under a week ago, and you'll have to forgive the absence of new posts.  I'd planned on writing the minute I arrived, but it took a few days to adjust to the new environment and get settled in.  From there, it just became a matter of getting the first one out there, and the more I procrastinated, the harder it was to post (ain't that always the way?)

Regardless, I am happy to report that the bus trip here was uneventful, and I'm currently bunked down in the in-theatre accommodations of The Chenango River Theatre as we prep the production of Escanaba in Da Moonlight opening on August 14th.  Four of the six cast members are from out of town, and so we are living here dorm style along with the stage manager and the theatre intern.  We each have our own rooms, decorated with props from past shows and furniture that includes a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a fan.

My own little corner of my own little room, as decorated with past props

The bookshelf in my room.  I'm determined to read this before the show closes.

 I have to say there was a kind of giddy excitement as I unpacked everything, trying to make the place home, as I'd be here for the next six weeks.  It felt like, and still feels, like theatre camp.  We have a company car, rehearsal once a day for a little under five hours, with one day off a week.  So far there's been plenty of off-time to explore the surrounding area, run errands, make the occasional trip to the Barnes and Noble (a thirty minute drive) and otherwise keep busy.  I plan to do a lot of reading, and hopefully get some writing done, although Netflix and The Witches of East End have proved more tempting than I'd like to admit.  The cast and crew are really friendly, mostly men, with two women, and while I feel a bit isolated as the only gay person within what feels like a twenty mile radius, I've been enjoying the chance to get-away.

Greene is a small farming community, where the grocery store nearest grocery store is a fifteen minute drive, and the downtown consists of about fifteen shops.  They include a few restaurants, a bar, the hardware store and five and dime, which is just about all one would need.  For most other things you would need to drive thirty minutes to the Binghamton mall.  It is gorgeous country out here, and such a change from the crazed energy of the city.  It's strange because on July 1st I moved from Austin to a completely different lifestyle in the city, and one month after that I had taken another detour into a life different from either of those.  By the time Escanaba closes I will have lived here longer than I had in Brooklyn.  

The view from downtown Greene

Of course, it's taken a bit of getting used to, but most of it has been pretty easy.  The one thing I cannot adjust to?  The smell of sulfur in the shower water.  It's like showering in liquid farts.  There's no other way to put it.

Music of the Subway

Everyone in New York ends up on the subway at some point, and most of us end up there at least twice a day.  It is definitely its own land with a distinct set of rules, people, smells and sounds that inhabit it and give it its color.  At first, everything is exciting, somethings are off-putting, but eventually you become desensitized to it all.

There are always performers in the subways.  Musicians, dancers, silver painted statue people, mini-Michael Jacksons, lady Michael Jacksons (just about every variety of Michael Jackson you can imagine) and for the most part they become a piece of the background noise.  But last Sunday I was at the Atlantic/Barclay stop in Brooklyn heading to a last stop in Target before leaving town for a bit, and I heard the strains of "How Great Thou, Art" coming from a soothing, and unique instrument, which at first I thought might be a theremin, but it was instead it was Maestro Moses Josiah and his musical saw.  He had an almost ethereal expression and unlike all the other people performing in the subway, he had the aura of someone giving a gift that you were welcome to take if you like as you moved through your day.  He was so earnest, and the music rather haunting, so that I had to pause a moment and just take it in.

He accepts donations, and sells cds, so if you are ever in New York and pass Mr. Josiah, take a moment and appreciate him.  He and his music have stayed with me long after hearing it.

A Night At the Whitney

Last night was a truly wonderful New York kind of night.  It was my last chance to hang out with Kirk for a while, and though I had mentioned having a quiet evening of packing and cleaning, when he mentioned the possibility of going to the Whitney (which is where he currently works, and is open late on Saturday nights) I jumped at it.

The opportunity to be on the terrace at sunset, looking down on New York city seemed like just what I needed.  We met up at the Barnes and Noble downtown, had dinner at the Hollywood Diner and walked over to the Whitney.  I was less excited about the thought of touring the Whitney than I might have been before I toured the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Maybe I had "museum fatigue" if that's even a thing, but if so, the actual experience of The Whitney Museum of American Art has cured me.

It was founded in 1931 by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, an exceedingly wealthy society lady and patron of the arts.  She had offered her collection of contemporary art to the Met, only to have it rejected, as they weren't interested in 20th century art.  So, she founded her own museum, which flourished under her guardianship, and continued to flourish after her death in 1942.  It was temporarily closed in 2014 until it reopened this year in its current home.  Like a lot of museums, the Whitney's building is as much a work of art as the pieces it displays, and the view from the terrace is literally breathtaking.

Stepping out onto the terrace, seven flights up, onto a jutting look out, was so unsteadying and exhilarating.  To look in one direction and see the harbor and the ships, to look at the Statue of Liberty, turn and look at The Empire State Building, The Chrysler Building...to be right in the center of these icons of New York... it was incredible.  You could turn left to right and see nothing but the city and its colored lights below, like jewels... the glamorous hotel next to us, with it's myriad of open hotel rooms that you could look right into as well as the ball room with its enormous chandelier...

It made me feel like a part of something miraculous and man made and distinctly American.  Sure I was a tiny little piece of it, but I was a piece, nonetheless.  I was hit with all of these cultural touchtones that make up the thoughts and feelings and dreams I have had about this city since I was a kid... snatches of music from Guys and Dolls, thoughts of ladies swathed in black furs heading into the theatre from the snow, Billie Holiday, taxicabs, Friends, the many disgusting little sweatbox convenience stores that sell sandwich meats and so therefore feel perfectly justified in calling themselves delis... all of it, the good and the bad mingled together to make this incredible picture of the city.  This city that I am now a part of.

After a while we stepped back inside, as the view became a little too disorienting, and it was time to return to the art.  

The collection is phenomenal, and while the museum is well known for its collection of Edward Hopper pieces, I have to say I found them to be some of the least exciting pieces in the collection, especially compared to the work of Thomas Hart Benton.  Benton is my favorite painter.  He'd been dismissed for awhile as sentimental Americana, but it's some of those very qualities that I love about his work.  He captures both the beauty and the weariness of people.  He captures the excitement and glamor of human diversions, but doesn't dismiss its seamier aspects.  

One of his greatest works was recently reconstructed at the Met, and it was by far my favorite exhibit there, when I visited last February.

At The Whitney, they have what is currently my favorite piece of art.  It's called Poker Night, and was inspired by Streetcar Named Desire.  It exemplifies what I love about Bennet's work.

There were some other wonderful works, most of them on the 2nd floor, which focused on the entertainments people use to make their lives seem a little lighter, and highlighted both the grimy and the gorgeous at once.  

The night continued with a walk on the High Line (part of a discontinued train line which is elevated above the city, and should not be missed on any trip to New York city) and finished with a piece of the Black Forest Cheesecake at Empire Diner , which is a beautiful art deco restaurant in Chelsea, founded by Chef Amanda Freitag.  

On the walk to the subway I snapped a couple pics that glimpse at some of the overlooked beauty that is everywhere in New York...

All in all, it was a great New York night, and it should more than hold me over while I'm upstate.

A Little Bit of Joy

Theres' a lot about New York that can seem somewhat squalid and "gritty".  There are the the rats, of course, the piles of garbage at night along the street, the blank stares of people wrecked by their mind numbing days, the smell of urine and gin that permeates the air at times... but if you are looking for it, even in some of the hotter, more tepid and grim places, like the subway at 2AM, there are these little pieces of art that give a little bit of hope and joy to the city.

It's this attention to detail, this history, this sense of timelessness that is just one of the reasons I love New York.

Roommate Wanted

Tomorrow morning I head out to Greene, New York for six weeks.  It doesn't feel like long at all, but when I realize that I've only been in New York for a month... It's been an exciting time to say the least.  Things come up, surprises arise, and as a person on the journey I'm learning to go along with the flow.  I mean, for the most part these circumstances have little to do with me, and so I do what I can when I can.

It is a strange feeling to be without a permanent home, and once I've resolved that situation I imagine it will go a long way to making me feel more secure, and less like a visitor here.

I have been checking out the various member sites, Facebook groups and Craigslistings to seek a solution to it, and a little while ago I had my first visitation for a possible place to live.  It was sited as...

1. Short term or long term
2. One Bedroom
3. $850
4. Pre-War building

Sign me up!!!

I would be sharing with a retired ballerina who is currently working in the wellness industry. I put aside my stereotypical and completely unfair preconceptions about ballerinas being high maintenance and somewhat, bat shit crazy, and called her up.  She was very kind.  Really open and forth right, with a deep voice and a strong voice to match her equally strong convictions that Brooklyn and Williamsburgh are terrible, the true working class have long since left the area and it takes hours to get anywhere from there.  She was an artist from the Warhol days, and she knew how it was.  There was something in her vocal presence and energy that sang of "Native New Yorker".  

We made an appointment for the next week to see the room, which would be all I would be renting as she was "doing the New York thing" of renting out her bedroom and using her living room as a bedroom. Hmmm.  

I got to the Bronx an hour before our appointment, and had plenty of time to look around.  It was situated right next to Yankee Stadium, which could be tricky during game time, and didn't seem as easy to get to as she had claimed.  Plus, the city was...grittier than I'd expected.  The building itself was gorgeous.  A relic of times gone by, gigantic, gated, and the lobby was cavernous and completely empty, which seemed strange to me.  

I gave the woman a call and let her know I was down stairs.  She was headed down to the basement to recycle some things, so she would see me in a bit. About five minutes later a tiny little woman in red and green square cut spectacles greeted me carrying two six foot tall empty boxes, which I immediately took from her.  She had salt and pepper hair in a pixie cut, and that's what she seemed like to me.  A no-nonsense, get 'er done, New York pixie in her early sixties.  She proceeded to lead me down to the basement and regale me with the history of the building, its amenities, and conveniences.  

She seemed to take in everything around her with a critical eye.  The garbage cans needed to be moved, etc.  "What are you doing??" she called to the guy at the end of the hall who was quite blatantly propping the door.  "Are you loading something in?  Cause I can't have that door propped.  I just had a strange person come up to my apartment door and knock saying he was with electricity!"  

Of course, like a clumsy Saint Bernard I bumped the overhead fluorescent light as I stacked the boxes in recycling.  There was a slight sizzle and a flash.  "I'm gonna have to call Phil about that.  Can you hear it??  Can you hear it sizzling?  Lemme call Phil."  

She apparently had the Superintendent on speed dial.  I was mortified, but neither did I want to burn down this stunning pre-war building on my first visit.  Phil came down and replaced the bulb, I took a quick peek at the laundry facilities, met one of the neighbors, a short squat opera singer, and we headed up to see the apartment.  I also picked up in the conversation between them that my pixie friend was the Vice Chair of the Board for the building, which is a co-op.

The apartment was sizable, the kitchen was clean, and it looked like something could be done to make it quite homey.  However, nothing had been done at the moment.  There was not a painting hung on any of the walls, no pictures, the furniture was sparse, though antique, and I was surprised to discover she had lived there more than two years.  There was a guy working construction in her apartment though, so maybe that was it?  He had assembled and installed a couple of IKEA bookshelves, and was currently working on the lighting in the kitchen.   We walked through her bedroom to the room that would be mine, and it gave me pause.  

I understand it's "the New York thing" but it seemed like it would be strange if she was asleep by ten PM and I was creeping through her bedroom late at night to get to my own, or if I had a friend over...just, very close for comfort.  The room itself was quite lovely, with a beautiful view of the park below, and lace curtains blowing in the wind.  It was a little feminine for my tastes, but could be worked with.  So possibly?  I knew I wasn't ready to make a commitment at that point, and she had to rush me out anyway, because she had a last minute Skype conference scheduled in her kitchen, so before I knew it I was out the door and shuffling into the rickety elevator back down to the ground floor.  

There were definitely possible issues.  But it was very cheap rent, and was available September 1st.  If I ended up booking the Greene gig (something that was still up in the air at that time) maybe??

But I had had some crazy roommate situations in the past in Los Angeles, and I wasn't eager to sign up for another.  As nice as this lady seemed, she was very assertive, and in everyone's business.  I couldn't imagine living a life in her apartment that would be in any way private.  

After I booked the gig in Greene (it feels so weird to say that word- "gig".  Any time I say it I feel like one of the Archies) I gave her a call.  The timing would certainly work, and it would be nice to have something secure when coming back.  I left her a message saying I was interested, would be back on the 6th of September, and was interested.  Maybe we could start it out for a couple of months, make sure it worked out.  

However, it is not to be.  She left me a message with a lot of her former friendliness drained away, saying, no, she needed the apartment rented as of the 1st.  The 6th would not work out, and she needed at least a year commitment (so much for "short term ok").  Since she was just getting a million calls on the rental, so it didn't look like it was going to work out, even though I seemed like a lovely person.  Click.  If course, as I'd mentioned in my message I was open and amenable to whatever would work for her, but apparently, she didn't want to converse about it.

Damn.  It's strange how much rejection can sting, even when it's an opportunity you aren't even sure you really want.  Maybe if I'd seemed a little more sold on it?  Maybe if I hadn't been 6 ft 3 to her 5'5 self, a seeming physical threat?  I guess we will never know.

In the meantime, I will have a [place to stay for the next six weeks and will do what I can to look for a new apartment, even if it is from three and a half hours away.