Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations.
|
|
| You Listen to Me, Mr. Kick-Ass Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations. |
|
|
Friday, November 08, 2002 I Voted For The Friday Five! 1. Did you vote in your last elections? Gulp. No. And I feel guilty about it. It's just that I hadn't any clue at all who was who (what the hell do I know about New York politicians?) I thought about going and just voting Green straight down the line, but I was late to work and I didn't know where my polling place was...and now the motherfucking Republicrats are going to send us straight to war, and it's all my fault. Sorry. 2. Do you know who your elected representatives are? OK, fuck you for making me feel guilty AND stupid. Well, I know that our mayor is Bloomberg, our Governor is Pataki, and one of our Senators is Rodham-Clinton. And someone told me that some guy named Stern was the King of All Media, but I'm not sure that's an elected position... 3. Have you ever contacted an elected representative? If so, what was it about? Yes, lots. Back in the day, a lot of Nicaragua, and "please don't make so many nuclear weapons," and such. Actually I don't remember the specifics, but it seemed that I received form-letter responses from elected officials every few weeks throughout high school and college. Ah, idealism. Most recently I sent letters in protest of a University's gestapo tactics during a Dubya visit, and through Working Assets Long Distance, I've lent my name to their form letters to protest corporate tax loopholes and first-strike aggression in Iraq. 4. Have you ever participated in a demonstration? Participated? Yes, and I've helped plan them too. But not for many years. I was arrested once for entirely symbolic non-violent trespassing on the property of the Strategic Air Command in Nebraska. Actually I think it was then that my cynicism started creeping in. It just seemed so pointless--they didn't give a shit why we were protesting, and the arrest was nothing more than paperwork and bother for the people involved. 5. Have you ever volunteered in an election? What was the result? I seem to remember doing something for one of Bob Kerrey's gubernatorial campaigns. We loved him--he was like Nebraska's JFK. He even dated an actress. Then, like all cool people, he moved to New York. posted by Ginger | 1:15 AM OK, so like what's up with the boy who keeps rubbing you? Alright, alright. So, over the past weeks I've offhandedly invited him to a couple of events--a music show here, a comedy show there, a movie over there... He never could do it: already booked, sorry, work, show, rehearsal. Then I decided to hang back and see whether he'd ask ME to do anything. Nope. Taking the hint, I firmly decided: Aw fuck it--and went back to asking him, yet more persistently. How about this concert? No, busy that night. OK, how about a lecture series? Gee I'd love to, but I've got rehearsal. Harry Potter movie? No, gosh, sorry I'm booked. Now I couldn't take this entirely personally--working actors, like doctors, have impossible schedules and for this reason are generally miserable dating partners. But still, three Nos in row. Sheesh. So, you'd think after all that rejection that I should really get myself a clue and realize that he's either 1. Really really not interested or B. Gay as Aunt Tillie's garden parties. But do I give up? Oh, what do you think? I had one ace, and pushed to the limit, I played it. You see, due to a timely e-mail and a particularly weak sense of fiscal responsibility, I ended up purchasing two tickets to an upcoming Broadway musical with huge buzz, directed by a certain Australian who recently got Nicole Kidman nominated for an Oscar. I chose the date of the show more or less at random, and at the time had no idea who I'd take with me. So even though this musical is still many weeks off, I went ahead and asked the Rubbing Boy if he wanted to go..and by God the Boy said Yes! With many exclamation points!!! And flattering remarks (the word "babe" was used in reference to my person...but whether this pertained to my looks or youthful vigor has yet to be determined...) Of course the enthusiastic response to a Broadway musical is not particularly encouraging on the gay/straight issue, but a girl takes what she can get. Besides, the only point in knowing is to determine the possibility of my getting laid, and there's some time before that becomes an issue. So here comes the embarassing part (you were hoping for this, weren't you?)---the part over which I'll worry most when such time comes that I inevitably reveal my blogging life (or, worse, somebody else reveals it to him), and Rubbing Boy ends up reading all of this high-school-ready crush nonsense about him: I looked him up on IMDb. First I looked up one of the theater companies he works for, curious as to what they were doing. There I found his bio, which mentioned his TV & movie credits. By now I know a number people with TV and movie credits--nobody you'd recognize, but one thing you learn quick in this business is the staggering number of actors needed just to keep our lust for entertainment satisfied. From the lass who serves cosmos as the Sex and the City gals kvetch about their middle-thirtiness to the guy who tells the Law and Order cops how he saw the unfortunate victim get thrown out the window: the people I see frequently in my life might be people I'd see once in a while on my TV, if I had one. So, the fact that Rubbing Boy had TV & movie credits wasn't particularly surprising or thrilling. But after my amused search of his name I suddenly realized... hey, I could rent this. I could actually see him play something other than a singing vegetable...even if it's just as a proverbial spear-carrier, third from left. The fact that he gets named in the credits at all is encouraging, since I think you have to have a speaking line for that. So what the hell--I had been wanting to see that show anyway. So, yes, I rented one of the things he's in--it's on my Netflix list. But if you tell him...GAWD I'll just DIE! posted by Ginger | 12:34 AM Thursday, November 07, 2002 In case you were all wondering what my room looks like... Here it is. posted by Ginger | 11:47 PM Monday, November 04, 2002 Thanks Mike Before I left work, I wanted to blog something to counteract yesterday's somewhat depressing blog entry...but then I started reading this article, discovered via Michael's site, and got all depressed again. I am registered to vote here, but have no idea who to vote for. So the question is, is it better to vote blind or not vote at all? Sigh. But back to the day-to-day fun happy news of my life: 1. The shows went well Sunday. We got a pretty decent crowd and impressed some folks who might hire us to do shows in parks and at schools and stuff. 2. More backrubbing Sunday! Still very G-rated though, I'll have to work on that. Still don't know the answer to the gay/not gay conundrum. 3. Nearly done knitting my first sweater--just have to finish the back then put it all together. 4. Bought new underwear (see #2). Um, I mean, I needed it anyway... That's really about it. Sorry to be so boring today, kids! posted by Ginger | 6:48 PM Sunday, November 03, 2002 EXCOOS MEE! There's this woman on the subway I've been meaning to tell you all about. Beggars on the subway are everywhere, of course, but this one stands out. Once in a while I'll see her on the C train (which I believe Scott once termed "the most ghetto subway line in New York." This is, of course, my train.) The woman looks to be in her mid-twenties, plump, baby-faced, clear pale skin, round red cheeks, hair in a sleek brown ponytail. She wears unassuming Target-ish sportswear (leggings, sneakers, windbreaker)--not the "just-slept-in-a-dumpster" look favored by most subway beggars. She carries a couple of small shopping bags--generally less than the luggage I cart to work every day. Her speech is heavily-accented--Russian or Polish, I think--high-pitched and sing-songy, turned up to a screechy whine as if she's always talking over a room full of rowdy kindergarteners. As she moves through the subway car, she stops directly in front of each and every black man on the train. Not black women, not white or asian or hispanic anyones. Only black men. She stands right in front of them, actually leaning over, almost into their faces. She always says the same thing: EXCOOS MEE! DO YOO HAFF ZIXTY ZENTS? Always sixty cents. Always "Do you have..." not "Can you give me..." or "I need..." People react in different ways to this. Most just say no. One guy, incredulous, answered with a question "You want ME to give YOU sixty cents?!" Another simply asked "Why?"--which was the only time I've ever heard her say anything but her standard line: I NEED TO BUY SOMEFING!! One older man, looking utterly baffled, had to ask her to repeat herself a few times before he understood what she was saying. Finally, as she leaned over him, he gave a sort of a shrug and started digging around in his pockets. He handed over what he had and, without a word, she walked off to the next car. As she passes through, the other passengers look at each other, as if to silently commiserate: "Get a load of THIS one." I wonder if anyone else notices that she asks only black men. I'm sure they must, and my silent, never-answered question whenever I meet anyone's eyes is "why?" I want to know her story--Why beg? Why black men? Why sixty cents? What do you need to buy? Where do you go when you get off the train? After a year of riding the trains, I understand now that there's a standard subway-beggar script. It is so finely-tuned that it seems to have been taught in some sort of panhandler seminar. Even Bart Simpson did a version of it when the Simpsons went to New York (the one where Homer had to wait by the World Trade Center [RIP] for the cops to remove the boot from his car, and he had to pee real bad). For the uninitiated, it goes something like this: Good (morning, afternoon, evening). I am a homeless person but an honest person. I hope by the grace of god that you are having a good morning, and that you have something to eat today, and a warm safe place to sleep tonight. I hope that tomorrow you will have something to eat and a warm, safe place to sleep. Last night I tried to sleep on the train and I am very tired and hungry, and I hope that you can spare something to help me get a bite to eat. A quarter, a nickel or a dime, even a penny, can help me today. Thank you and God bless. I hear some version of this pretty much every day. Rarely I give change, usually just look down, read my book. Sometimes I look at them as they pass by, as if it is more honest to acknowledge that yes, I see them and no, I am not giving them any money. But yesterday, I heard something I hadn't heard before. At first, I thought someone was singing to themselves on the train. The volume low, a falsetto voice--a chanting with a Caribbean, reggae-type rhyhm to it. As the singing crept closer, I began to pick out the words: Ex-cu-huse me, lahdies and gen-tle-mennn I don't mean to bother yoooou But I am ti-erd and need a place to sleep toniiiight A quarter or a nickel or a dime To get a beeed Or a bit to eaaat. A quarter or a nickel or a diiime Will help me sleeep toniiiiight. ... It's strange, a really strange thing, to have your heart broken every day. posted by Ginger | 6:10 PM |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
||||
|
|||||
