Do I wake or sleep?

We had the Thyme reading Monday evening (which went very well) and Luke (Demetrius) had asked us over to his place afterward but he lived further downtown and I didn't want to get home late so I decided against it. As it was, I entered the building at 11:00--I skulkedwalked through the courtyard with my jacket hood up, falling in behind two guys who were obviously residents (they were carrying groceries and seemed like a couple). As we approached the doors I saw a guy waiting there, clearly without keys and waiting for a resident to let him in. The two guy residents unlocked the door, letting him in, and the security officers didn't stop the guy. I felt uneasy and lingered in the lobby to fake a phone call. After a couple of minutes, I started to walk toward the C elevator bank--and I saw the same guy lingering by the doors, looking around, waiting for someone with keys. And honestly, I can't swear it wasn't the same guy--it looked like him but I didn't look right at him because I didn't want him to look at me. I was absolutely furious though. FURIOUS. It was the lingering that pissed me off, I can't even really describe why. It just seemed so entitled or something--and why the hell didn't security see this? As I walked past the guy looked over at me, obviously thinking I would let him in, but I pretended to get my mail killed more time in the lobby, hoping he would be gone by the time I went back to the bank. This is what happened, and I got into the elevator alone. I rode up to my apartment, furious and very nervous. Believe it or not, I hadn't really been afraid until then--but if the guy can get in again...?

My dad showed up the next morning and we talked about the whole thing, looking over the lease for legal grounds to be let out of the lease early. I didn't see a specific security clause in the lease so I called Rachel, who said the landlord's obligation to provide security doesn't need to be spelled out in the contract/lease, that it's implicit in the relationship between landlord and tenant. She was all "if you sue him, it's a tort, not a contract dispute." I was relaying this to my dad, who said "tell her we'd like to hire her" and I passed this on to Rachel who said she actually hasn't been formally admitted to the bar yet, but she would be happy to give me any legal advice she could, and would give us referrals if we needed. We could've been Rachel's first clients! I thought about what I was going to say to the manager and then went downstairs with my dad to the manager's office, where we waited for at least a half-hour. Dude. Just...dude. Eventually we were ushered in to see the guy, where I told him about the incident the night before and said "I don't want to live like that, playing games in the lobby and pretending to go get my mail, just to feel safe. I'd like to be released from the lease." My dad said afterward that I did perfectly. Afterward we went down to Union Square to meet my brother and ate at the Shake Shack...mmmm, delicious Shack Shack burgers. (By the way, they have this HILARIOUS William Wegman art exhibit there on screens in the park, showing these park denizens (diners at the Shack, people sitting on benches, a Parks employee driving a truck) with human bodies, clothes and hands and Weimaraner faces. It's difficult to go into why it's so funny but it's brilliant. Check it out if you get a chance.)

Elizabeth emailed me from London, very graciously offering me her ginormous living room to live in for awhile. After the Monday incident I emailed back saying yes--I'm moving my bed and kittehs (and basic things like clothes, makeup) on Saturday, and moving most of the rest of it into storage until I find another place.

Tuesday I rode up in the elevator with the mother of a girl who lives down the hall--I've spoken with her (the girl) many times, and had her and her little brother and sister over for Halloween last year. I spoke with the mother privately in the hall, telling her what had happened and saying "just watch out for your kids." As we spoke another woman from across the hall came by and entered the conversation--apparently the detectives had been knocking on doors and interviewing the residents. The other said that she'd lived in the building for a long time and things like that "never happen here." But she also said there used to be a lot more security than there was now. The detective investigating the case had left a message so I called him back and we had a nice long chat. One of the first things he said was "that guy across the hall isn't too helpful, is he?" I said "uh--YEAH. Yeah. No, he isn't." He said the girls next door and down the hall had very nice things to say about me, all "she's so nice!" and "ooh, she's an ACTRESS!" I said "well, I like kids and have invited them in several times to play with my cats." He said the building is still in transition and the management is trying to drive out the criminal element, and he mentioned gang activity and drug-dealing. I suppose I'm such an innocent, I genuinely had no idea that was still happening in that neighborhood. He seemed a little surprised that I was actually moving--I said I was moving for several reasons, 1) the guy knows where I live and what I look like, 2) the recurrent security lapses, and 3) that fucking neighbor. If you can't even count on your neighbor to call the damn cops...well, that's not a place I want to live.

I went over to the precinct HQ last night to look at mugshots--man, there are a LOT of criminals in this city. It got depressing after awhile. Detective Perez's partner came over to meet me and said "man, that girl next door to you was singing your praises--she thinks very highly of you." I guess I'll see if I can say goodbye to her before I leave. The two detectives were saying how extremely fortunate I was--which I know, in a way, but I haven't been letting myself think about it too much, because I don't want to freeze up and feel too afraid. But they were saying the guy could've punched me in the face or knocked me out, or pulled a gun on me. Detective Perez also said "my superior and me, we think it was an attempted rape" which seems, well, obvious. They're going to try to get a good picture of this guy from the footage on the tape.

One of the people I work with has been really annoying about this, though--when I told them on Monday, she was saying things like "you should've kicked him in the balls" and "why didn't you kick him in the balls?" No, I should've done exactly what I did do--stay un-raped and un-murdered. She's a terrific person most of the time but I don't need to hear what she thinks I did wrong. On the other hand, one of the guys I work for was bragging about me yesterday to one of the other partners--he was talking about our annual summer outing and how usually we play softball but this year we played volleyball. He said "you should see Clara, she's very fierce when she's at bat." I said "well, I am extremely competitive in sports--I lettered in three sports in high school." Then he said "And last week she fought off a mugger in her apartment who pulled a knife on her..." The guy looked startled and said "Really?" I shrugged and gave him a brief rendition of what had happened.

Whew. The world is too much with us.

Last night I went over to Sami's to look at some stuff she offered up for Midsummer costumes. I took the N all the way to the end and walked 8 blocks through Astoria to get to the cute lil' apartment she shares with Silas. Astoria seems quite hipster-y--I loved all the darling restaurants that I passed, even if every other street sign was in Greek! I love my new apartment but the main thing my new neighborhood is missing is RESTAURANTS. I don't cook. I need cute little hipster places where I can order girly drinks and appetizers. (Although I've discovered just a few blocks down from my building, just past 125th Street, which is really 129th at that point, are a bunch of cute, inexpensive places that cater to the Columbia crowd. This is great because I can't always be going to the Dinosaur, as that place always has a line.)

Sami's apartment is ADORABLE. The bathroom has this weird extra space in it where she placed two chairs--I said "Is this like a salon? 'Today's topic is "Democracy in the Middle East"--discuss, while I sit on the toilet.'" She also has this cute lil' nook in the kitchen where she's hung lights and fruit garland and autumn leaves garland. She brought out a huge bunch of clothes and we picked and poked through them. I think we can use a LOT of them for Midsummer--we'll have to see how they look on people but I'm excited. She also gave me some stuff--Sami's taste and mine are somewhat different, hers is a little hippy-er, mine is a little girly-er--but I went for several items, one of which I'm wearing today.

I love that kind of team spirit. I mean, Sami went way out of her way to offer up this stuff for the show, and it really is a huge help. Theater is such a leap of faith, and an off-off venture needs the help and positivity of everyone to succeed. That's exactly the kind of person I would cast again and again, and I make a point of looking for that when I cast. I did a show at the Studio down in DC where one of the interns was very negative and criticizing what the director was doing--we had this terrible musical about the life of Jack Kerouac. Oh God, the original script was awful, complete with the opening number "Growing up in Lowell," with a lyric that actually had the phrase "the laughter and the tears." Doesn't that sound awful? I mean, this is about JACK FREAKIN' KEROUAC--of all subjects, why would you write a conventional musical about HIM? So the director really changed the script (without, uh, consulting the playwright), and asked us all to bring in our own suggestions, from research about his life and writings. We also ditched the score and had a group of jazz singers--who weren't in the scenes--do numbers between scenes, that commented on the action. I cobbled together a monologue from an interview with Luanne Cassidy, Neil Cassidy's first wife (whom I was cast as), and of course found a scene from a short story with a character called The Texas Blonde. Sadly I was FORCED to wear a smokin' hot white bathing suit in that, and do a full cross in high-heeled sandals in a theater in the round. Oh, the SHAME! Anyway as a company we really were operating on the fly, and it was a leap of faith--we were all a little unsure if we'd be shut down on opening night but we thought the work was good.* Except for this one intern who was just. So. Negative. Well, word got back to the director and she ended up being let go. You just can't have that infecting the energy. I think any theater program should force actors to direct or produce at least once, so they know how important positivity is.

*The playwright eventually saw our show, and was a little taken aback but didn't shut us down, and we ended up getting nominated for a bunch of Helen Hayes awards so it was all good.

Anyway--thank God for people like Sami. I'm really glad she and Silas auditioned for this show.

Silas was there with a fellow band member of his, whose name I forget. I said that the next time my cousin Colin is in town (the sax player), he should meet Silas and Mickey. I told Silas that Colin's in a band with the sons of Jaco Pastorious, and he seemed impressed..

Afterwards Sami and I went out to eat at one of the many Greek diners in the neighborhood, and had a long, awesome conversation. Our table was covered by a glass plate with a crack in it, and at one point it cracked much further. (Now that I think about it, it's like the Stone Table in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.) As I paid we told the guy who glared at us as though he thought it was our fault--dude, you're the one who seated us as a table with a crack in it!

Packing is HELL. I don't think I have enough boxes. I've been sleeping on the floor for days now and have to coax Tatiana down just to see her, since she lurks in the loft all the time. And Friday is going to be interesting--I have a full 10 hours at work, and have to "nip" up to the new building (way up in Harlem) to pick up the keys and the lease at 8 am. This means I'm getting up at 7:00 or before.

On the bright side, although I'm not living in the most exciting part of it, it'll be ncie to live in Haaarlem again. I've been checking out the 'hood on citysearch and I can't wait to hit me some M&G's again. M&G's is the real version of what Sylvia's serves up to busloads of European tourists. Tracie took me there when we lived together. And I want to try Miss Mamie's Spoonbread Too--damn, Southern food is the best. Southern, soul--it's all the same thing. Heart attack on a plate--deep fry that baby. With a side of mayonnaise! Yee haw!