“You’re sitting in a wheelchair, looking at your premature baby in an incubator, and you’ve just gotten out of surgery, having almost died. Aaaaaand…action.”
I fixed my eyes on what I decided was the “incubator”. A burgundy throw pillow, on the opposite side of the room.
“Take your time with this… I’m going to improv with you between your lines.” The casting director fired up the camera.
Oh no. Ok. Well, here goes.
Me: “Doctor, I —“
“YES, how can I help.”
Oh. This is like, a lot of improv. Between all the words.
“…I am wondering if my baby will be—“
“—be… OK. If she will be ok…”
My eyes were welling up. I held on tightly to my wheelchair, which was a plastic office chair with normal legs. I tried to seem “Tired. Recently surgeried.” Continue reading
That room right there in that photo? Totally glowy in hot pink light, that you get to stand in the middle of, blissfully losing touch with reality, even though you’ve got super-dork booties on your feet. Like you’re some kinda hippie barefoot doctor of… not helping people.
My friend Chris Turnham asked if Ervin and I wanted to go to LACMA (Los Angeles County Mega Awesome…right?) to see the James Turrell retrospective, a few weeks back.
“YES!!” I said. And then, “Who is James Turrell?” is what I typed into Google. Ah-HA. He does art with light and something or…. I don’t know. But everyone and their blogging bestie was raving about this show. I wasn’t NOT gonna go. Continue reading