I had such fun writing the last update that I feel compelled to carry on today--if you would rather delete before reading, I won't be offended. The story of the wandering jew is an old one, you may feel you've heard it all before. It's like a Shalom Aleichem story, but with more movie actors.
In any case, this morning found me starved and freezing in an over-air conditioned room with terrible acoustics somewhere, I imagine, in London--though it was quite a long ride. The film is a sweet slacker-done-well comedy in which my boss plays a rich American dick head. It is, admittedly, a mostly charmless role, and he is deeply regretting ever having accepted it. No amount of reassurance from me seems to make any difference on this point. Perhaps my reassurances ring hollow, since it is nearly impossible to feel sorry for the guy.
"Boo hoo. I have to live in a posh hotel in London for six weeks and I'm not even making a million dollars."
After the read through I make a straight line for the snack table where I quickly suck down some tea in hopes that the heat of it will diminish my teeth chattering, and the whole milk in it will quiet my stomach. I make small talk with other non-actors, who wonder, as I do, what in the world I am doing there. Then off we go to Primrose Hill (a trendy neighborhood in London) for lunch and rehearsal.
"Lunch," I think. "That's something".
We share a delightful car ride with Simon Pegg, the lead actor. Some may know him from, "Shaun of the Dead". Some may think, "What the hell is 'Shaun of the Dead'?"
We wind up at an upscale Deli for lunch and I begin devouring its offerings with my eyes. Mmm. Beet Salad. What would beet salad feel like in my belly? And just then, I am released. No lunch, no beet salad, nothing. I set out in search of a tube station and end up at a lovely pub for fish stew and a glass of wine.
It's the middle of the day and everyone is drinking...it's a wonder they could get the Olympics.
The stew is very tasty, but the seafood is inedible. There are two prawns in the bowl with heads and eyes and foot-long antennas. How is a person meant to suck out the flesh of an animal that still has a soul? Plus the spoon seems like the wrong instrument for such a challenge. I need a dagger, I think. Or a gun. I eat the broth and the potatoes and the bread. I am still hungry, but at least now I'm a little drunk.
Well, I suppose I should return to my search for the tube. If you are receiving this email, it means I made it back, intact. If not...
And then we descend into absurdity.