The Week Ahead
Tonight I stay home, to finish my new film treatment for a romantic comedy I'm writing, and to get some rest to tackle the week ahead. I felt feverish at the office today, and if I'm to enjoy myself at all and be productive in the coming days, a night of relaxation is in order.
I that model I met over the weekend. I thought that knowing she snogged another guy might take some of the edge off, but i was nervous as hell, chest beating fast and sweat forming on the brow (though those could all be symptoms of my feverish state), I was almost relieved when it went to the sweet, safety of her voicemail. I did my best to leave a message that didn't make me out to be a tool. We'll see.
Then upon leaving the office, the strangest thing happened. While walking through Soho, I nearly walked right into a tall, reddish blond model who I was almost sure was the girl I'd left a message for less than two hours ago! Maybe I just had her on the brain, but a flicker of eye contact and I didn't slow down, because:
a) I had just left the message a couple of hours before. It was an uncanny coincidence (okay, a model in Soho isn't that bizarre, but still), and might be construed as weird.
b) I wasn't absolutely positive it was her. Last time I'd seen her, I was quite out of it. I was too chicken, for want of a more dignified term, to stop this woman in the street, risking embarrassment if it wasn't her.
So I made it home and wrote while I caught up on Tivo'd episodes of Subterranean, the best music video show in the US. As I finished the treatment to my new RomCom, I ponder what it will take to turn these eleven pages into a full-length feature: how many more scenes, how many more jokes... can I step up and be that funny?
A few hours later, and no call back. Hm. As I said above, we'll see.
I that model I met over the weekend. I thought that knowing she snogged another guy might take some of the edge off, but i was nervous as hell, chest beating fast and sweat forming on the brow (though those could all be symptoms of my feverish state), I was almost relieved when it went to the sweet, safety of her voicemail. I did my best to leave a message that didn't make me out to be a tool. We'll see.
Then upon leaving the office, the strangest thing happened. While walking through Soho, I nearly walked right into a tall, reddish blond model who I was almost sure was the girl I'd left a message for less than two hours ago! Maybe I just had her on the brain, but a flicker of eye contact and I didn't slow down, because:
a) I had just left the message a couple of hours before. It was an uncanny coincidence (okay, a model in Soho isn't that bizarre, but still), and might be construed as weird.
b) I wasn't absolutely positive it was her. Last time I'd seen her, I was quite out of it. I was too chicken, for want of a more dignified term, to stop this woman in the street, risking embarrassment if it wasn't her.
So I made it home and wrote while I caught up on Tivo'd episodes of Subterranean, the best music video show in the US. As I finished the treatment to my new RomCom, I ponder what it will take to turn these eleven pages into a full-length feature: how many more scenes, how many more jokes... can I step up and be that funny?
A few hours later, and no call back. Hm. As I said above, we'll see.
posted by Unknown at 10:38 PM
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