Another week has gone by…

Another list, I appreciate it is a little bit of a cop-out. I do actually have great stories – one about a BBQ place – but I’m ill and on some kind of cough medicine. Special as my body reacts to these things I’m currently as clear-headed as a ketamine-addict. ( as a matter of speaking obviously, mother.) Some events just deserve and require more effort but for now here are ten to keep you/me satisfied.

1. Weather in New York is unpredictable in March. Did we have a nice warm 21 degrees two weeks ago, last week we were hit with hail and snow. This might have had something to do with the persistent cough that is now making its way through the whole course.

2. Went to see Adjustment Bureau ( if that gets made, it means there is still hope for us fledgling writers!) Was more in awe of the array of cinema food, which they then had to spoil by informing us of the calorie-content. (Why?!) So I had a medium bucket of Cherry-coke that kept me buzzzing through the film.

3. I have now frequented the kitchen. I even cooked a meal ( the first in 3 weeks. Long story, mostly involving salads and elaborate lunches.)

4. I could only do this because I got introduced to this grocery place Trader Joe’s. Someone ( a Native ;))  had to come with me and hold my hand. I did find Salt Water Taffy which made the trip worth it.

5. Saw a one-woman show Bootleg Islam as part of the Iranian Festival at the Brick theatre with D. ( Previously mentioned in the Chinese food story) It was the second time I went to see some fringe here, after seeing the awesomely executed Machinal the week before.

6. There was snow when we came out of the theatre thus we had to find shelter and some drinks, until the bartenders put their coats on too…and it was only Wednesday.

7. Coffee. Black: it has become a necessity.

8. Last night I found my way to a place where my new friends were having a meal, only on vague instructions, an address and the NY grid system. Even nearly got bull shitted by a guy who tried to send me the wrong way.

9. Bull shit radar in general seems to be working well – though I do feel like Odysseus resisting the Sirens sometimes.

10. “Inspiration is overrated.” Quote from Debora Cahn who talked to us about her job as screenwriter/producer for Grey’s Anatomy. Sometimes you just need to keep writing.

The Park/ The other side

Today I thought to take another angle on the long list of assignments due in soon. As the last couple of days have been eventful and, dare I say, at times mind-blowing; it was time to think outside of the box. So outdoors it was for inspiration, a quiet mind and hopefully an end to my film story.

My story starts in a fairytale like village, think Amelie or cute French town meets the green of The Shire. Its heroine is a ten-year old girl who goes on an adventure on her pink bicycle.  She rides up the hill to obtain her goal and then down a hill again. Actually, when I first pitched this story, it ended on top of the hill. Our tutor advised to keep on going until she came down again. In other words: think of a different ending. Hmm. Mind racing unfruitfully, I thought Central Park’s nature surroundings might inspire me.

I was looking for the off-road, hilly paths trying to avoid the runners ( and my runner’s guilt. ) when I suddenly spotted her. Actually she came zooming past singing aloud. She was a little younger – she still had her side-wheel on-  but her bike was pink and it had a white basket. She was wearing her hair with cute accessories (exactly like I had described in my character-bio) underneath a purple helmet. I just had to follow her for a bit, trying to be inconspicuous. ( I felt the International Office of our school would probably wash their hands of me if I got arrested: “She did what? Follow a random child? No sir, not part of one of our courses. Thank you. Goodbye.” )

When she struggled to get up a hill, her mother came running up and instead of pushing her ( what my initial instinct was, but No, I should not touch strange children.) she encouraged her daughter by shouting French at her. Perfect: the girl was French ( I hope, or maybe mum has some interesting parental techniques.) The girl tried, swaying forwards and making funny noises… but still rolling backwards. Now mum did step up and pushed her.

The girl was delighted and so was I. There she was, she existed.

I photographed the bike ( without the child, don’t worry mother.)  as evidence but for some reason my camera refuses to connect to my computer – Alas!

I tried sitting down in the park and be still, like they do in the movies. Sit on a bench or the grass and just be. No such luck, my mind kept spinning and I was worried about wet patches on the grass. So I kept walking, until by coincidence (yeah it’s not like I could actually orientate myself.) I hit 5th Ave and was close to the Metropolitan Museum. I realised I had done it. I crossed over from Upper West to Upper East.

Was I going to need my passport? From what I saw it’s just as nice, a little different ehm a little more prim perhaps. I found the museum ( Thank god for NY’s grid system) and before immersing myself in art, I sat on the steps . (Clean and no risk of wet patches.)

Strangely enough, there in front of a colossal cultural treasure chest, amongst a hundred other tourists with the sun on my face and a live a-cappella group busking in the background: my mind finally went still and was simply very happy.


It has been a while since I have blogged about the pilot. Things happened in between and really the best people to talk or write about it (and I imagine that that’s the last thing they want to do.) are the wonderful Sura and Lina. They both have been working so hard to make it all happen.

Over the last few months these two gorgeous women have been absolute supertroopers, even dealing with the last-minute panic of our camera man being unavailable. They got a terrific cast together, found places to film and lovely people to help us out. To everyone involved, I’d like to say thank you, thank you, thank you! I never got to write an entry about this because the reading of the script happened the night before I left; but I forgot to tell you all that I was so moved. No matter what happens, where this project ends up going, to me just ’round the table reading’ felt like an accomplishment in itself.

Filming started today and I am very sorry I could not be there to support you guys.   So just a little shout out to let you know that I have been thinking of you and I am sending you lots of love, hugs, golden stars, butterflies and fluffy baby bunnies.

Brunch crusaders

brunch [brʌntʃ]


a meal eaten late in the morning, combining breakfast with lunch

[from br(eakfast) + (l)unch] by Collins English Dictionary.

Apparently it is the thing to do on Sundays. How hard can it be?


It all started with me and my companion both being slightly fragile: she might have just been tired from work, I had a good night after I signed off yesterday. The clocks had changed and sprung an hour forward and thus we found ourselves queueing in the Grey Dog at 2.50pm with brunch closing at 3pm. There were massive cookies on display as well as huge brownies, muffins and freshly baked breads. However, we couldn’t get distracted: brunch it was. We got our order in at 3pm and made our way to the table by the window.

Three sips of coffee later and we were told that brunch was no longer being served. Alas, miscommunication with the kitchen. After a quick glance at the menu, even though packed with gorgeous sandwiches, we knew that breakfast fare was going to be only way forward.

I’d seen places that served brunch til 4pm, so with 45 min on the clock we were on a mission. We walked around the block one time as we were not familiar with the neighbourhood and needed to be sure breakfast fare in the form of pancakes or french toast or eggs. Breakfast taco is all very well, but not if you have cinnamon challah on the mind.

It turned into a little mission. Twenty minutes later we actually managed to sit down at one place Sweet Revenge that also did cupcakes – and were about to order French Toast when the waitress apologised:  they were out of French Toast. We kindly thanked her for the information and had to move on. Even the gorgeous looking lemon and red velvet cupcakes couldn’t distract us.

Fifteen minutes to go…
We settled for Daddy-O’s not amazing, not bad and it did breakfast, more importantly it did French toast with bacon on the side. At this point I am near literally hoovering the food and my fellow brunch crusader is on her fourth cup of coffee by the time I’m halfway through my plate.

The tabasco on the table almost tempts me to a Bloody Mary but that would have been one for the File of Really Bad Ideas. Especially as it is now almost midnight and  I am still waiting for ‘my muse’ to show up to aid me with my 2.5 of my 3 story-lines. I guess it also doesn’t help that I’m actively ignoring my thoughts that inadvertently seem wander to someone else…

To Be Continued…