deep in my heart i'm concealing

Things I am longing to say..

I woke up this morning with Italiana's voice in my head, singing "You Must Love Me." On the terracotta floor were strewn: my dress from last night, empty bottles of water, "a dreamer examines his pillow" by JP Shanley, "The Real Thing" by Tom Stoppard, "Agnes of God" by John Pielmeier, my Catcher in the Rye script, a container of colored pencils and a costume sketch.

I drank far too much Chardonnay at the Welcome Cocktail Party of this wedding weekend extravaganza, but it wasn't enough to liberate the party animal. All the LA folk went dancing down the street - I went back to the villa, chatted with the older ladies from Boston, and passed out with my face in a play. There's a beautiful speech in The Real Thing about why the character Henry doesn't get jealous. About how being a lover and loving divides the world into two categories - your lover, and the everyone else. Everyone else gets blurry. In the situations where I haven't been a jealous lover, this is always the case.

But typically, I am a bit jealous.

This is the wedding of one Mr. Nat Faxon, actor from Club Dread, Slackers, & Beerfest. His writing partner, Jim, is here, and I absolutely froked when I saw him - apart from looking like a combination of Moby & Micheal Stipe, this guy plays the T.A. Phillip in Slackers...one of my all-time favorite dumb movies. Whenever I see him wandering the beach, I can't help but think: "This is the final exam. That's right, books go under our desk. It's not open book. We left junior high a long time ago!" in that terrific sarcastic snarl.