Snapshots

— I am re-reading Jane Eyre (Penguin Classics). Just saw the movie tonight. It opens March 11th. Review to come next week. I shouldn’t say I am re-reading Jane Eyre. I am re-LIVING Jane Eyre.

— My cat Hope has a hematoma in her ear. It is puffed up so badly that one side of her head looks like Yoda. I have to give her ear drops twice a day and it has completely destroyed her personality. She now hides behind the fridge and under the bureau and glowers at me in a Yoda-like fashion from across the room. I hope she bounces back from the complete TRAGEDY that are daily ear drops.

— Went to go see Offside with Paul this past Saturday at the Asia Society, part of their Jafar Panahi tribute. I had spoken with the organizer of the tribute, La Frances Hui, and interviewed her about how quickly she had put the whole thing together. I had spoken with her on Tuesday. I got the news about my friend on Wednesday, and so the interview with her was not meant to be. I couldn’t get anything ready by Thursday. But the timing ended up working out, and I got to go see Offside. I have seen it on the big screen at BAM, but it wasn’t packed like it was at the Asia Society. The Asia Society was a full-house. That movie plays like GANGBUSTERS. This is obvious when you watch it by yourself, but it is even more apparent when you watch it surrounded by people. Paul was going to film me outside the Asia Society, talking about Panahi and the entire situation, and so I stood there, waiting as he got his gear ready. He knelt before me, on the sidewalk, rummaging through his camera bag. I watched the traffic go by. A little old man walked by, noticed our pose, and said, “Is he proposing???” He was so excited! I started laughing, not just because of the sweetness of the man’s excitement, but because if Paul HAD been proposing, then I was just an oblivious bitch, watching the traffic go by, unconcerned and bored, as my beloved got down on one knee on Park Avenue. Offside plays, in a packed house, to almost constant laughter, laughter that was manna to my bruised soul. It was a very mixed crowd. There were many Iranians there, of course, but they were not the majority. There were Asians, whites, blacks, young students, ancient people with walkers. And the laughter from all of us – crossing generations and cultures – FILLED that plush giant theatre. Paul had never seen the movie, so I got a vicarious thrill (as I always do, when “showing” a movie to someone who hasn’t seen it before) hearing his laughter beside me. And then, too, I was in tears throughout. I was having a meltdown. Paul was kind. I loved his comment after the movie. He was sitting there, kind of blown away, and he said, “He really understands women.” I leapt on this, curious. “What do you mean??” He says, “He understands what women can bring to a certain dynamic. How invaluable it is.” I was very moved by that. We don’t even know each other that well. Then we took the subway south, and I babbled to him about my friend Brett. Again, he was kind.

— There’s a strange high that comes from wakes and funerals. I was so disbelieving of what had happened that I almost couldn’t wait to get to the funeral home on Sunday because at least then I could have a safe space to try and REALIZE what had happened. I saw people I haven’t seen in (in some cases) decades. Dear old friends, my God. Brian. Joe. Marvin. I haven’t seen these people in decades, and when we saw one another, we hugged and started crying. It was awful and beautiful. Necessary. Brett’s parents are amazing people. I have known them since I was 16 years old. I remember sleeping over Brett’s house once, and we ordered pizza and rented Revenge of the Nerds. I was SIXTEEN, having a SLEEPOVER, with a COLLEGE GUY at his PARENT’S HOUSE and that is what we did. He was one of a kind. He included me, treated me like an equal, but he also protected my innocence. We were friends. I remember somehow “sex before marriage” came up in the dressing room once (I met him because I was cast as Millie in Picnic in a college production while I was still in high school), and I tentatively offered my own feelings that I was against sex before marriage. Not for everyone, I didn’t care what anyone else did, but for MYSELF. It wasn’t right for me. Imagine another kind of college boy, corrupt, lascivious, and how that would have been a red flag to him to try to deflower the young girl. But Brett was hilarious about it, and came up with an acronym: “SBM” (Sex Before Marriage) which he used with great aplomb. “Do NOT PRESSURE Sheila to have ANY of that SBM. SHE IS NOT INTERESTED.” He would tease me about it, which took the edge off, and made me feel normal. Clearly, I gave up my staunch no-SBM stance eventually, but he didn’t scorn me for that stance while I still held it. We were still referencing it throughout the years of our friendship. “How’s that SBM going?” “I’m doing great with it.” Or “I’m CLEARLY not having enough SBM.” I am so glad I was able to go to the wake and the funeral and the graveside service. Mitchell was opening a show this weekend in Chicago and couldn’t come and I know it killed him. He said, “I feel like The Big Chill is happening and I can’t go!” But he was with us in spirit. There are too many beautiful/amazing/wrenching stories to tell, and many I do not want to tell. I am currently re-living them with my friends. It is hard to go back to real life. Sunday and Monday was a cloister of grief, as it should be. It takes us, the living, some time to get used to our new situation. That is what such ceremonies are for. It’s hard to separate from one another. Jackie was there. David and Maria were there. I found their presence very comforting. Brett’s good friends from U Conn were there – Fatsi, Lizzie and Jonathan. Love these people. An entire busload (not an exaggeration: they used the corporate bus) of Brett’s coworkers at the law firm came up for the funeral on Monday. Antonio (my first boyfriend – you know, the guy who gently convinced me that SBM wasn’t all that bad) was there. Liz (Brett’s girlfriend of many years, now married to Joey) was there with Joey. Liz and Brett were soulmates. Kindred spirits. They were together when I met them. Brett was in Liz and Joey’s wedding party, for God’s sake. We all clung to one another as we buried our friend.

— Random quotes from the weekend of Brett’s services (there were many hysterical moments. Those of you familiar with wakes/funerals will know of what I speak – things are RAW, shit goes down, you weep, you ROAR with laughter – we had all of that this weekend):

“Don’t mind us. We’re just bonding on kind of a right-wing level right now.” – Me to David in re: me and Brooke

“How do we know he can survive without that??” – David (the moment cannot be explained, but we all died with laughter)

“You likin’ that NASCAR race, Brooke?” – Me, returning to the room I shared with Brooke. She was in bed, falling asleep, and a NASCAR race was on TV, with cars exploding into fiery meshes, not exactly the most peaceful of lullabies.

“I’ve seen some fucked-up shit.” – Me from the backseat on the way home

“I’ve been Tweeting this whole evening.” – Fatsi, after the wake – again: Dying with laughter.

“I just went to Dunkin Donuts in my pajamas.” – Me to Brooke, 6 a.m., re-entering our plush room at the Hilton

David picked an eyelash off my cheek and said, “Make a wish!” I replied, totally casually, not bitterly, just matter-of-factly, “I don’t make wishes anymore.” It became a running gag.

Stub ‘n a Nut – the bar David and Joey want to open that will cater to emasculated men.

“Has anyone contacted Helmet?” Brooke. For some reason, after she said that, although it was a serious question, we laughed until we cried.

“Someone needs to thank Howie for this lazzi window.” – Fatsi

“Hey, Shmilly!” – Joe – using his pet name for me after decades. The first thing he said to me.

Brett would have been proud.

On our trip to Manchester, NH, to see Liz in NOISES OFF. From left to right: Steven (Mitchell’s brother and our collective dear friend), Brett, Mitchell, me, Liz

Reflection in a window before NOISES OFF. Left to right: Steven, Mitchell, Antonio (with camera), Brett (in front), me

Brett and Eric Lutes – you may recognize him – in William Inge’s PICNIC

My brother Brendan, and Brett

Brett and Liz, there to see me graduate from college.

part of the cast of PICNIC doing the last-night ritual: painting the name of the show on the wall of the Green Room. From left to right: Joe, Liz, Jennifer (lying in front) Lenny, Joanna, Me and Brett

Brett, Liz, my sister Jean – at Circle in the Square Downtown to see me in AFTER THE FALL

David and Brett, at Liz and Joey’s wedding

Brett came and found me in the crowd at my college graduation. I hadn’t even gone up to receive my diploma yet. This one really got to me.

The entire cast of PICNIC.

Brett and my parents