Upon arriving in New York, I realized two things. It is amazing how so many people can make you feel lonely and my wish for wanting more 24 hour places may have been a bad idea. It's very hard to be antisocial (read: by myself) in the city that never sleeps.
However, Wes wine and dined me to all of his favorite spots in the city, and I'm not talking 5 star restaurants or premiere clubs, but hole in the wall joints that are high on culture, personality, good food and low on pretension. Wes also spent a lot of time with his friends. Fine by me. I got along wonderfully with his friends, a crude sense of humor helps, but I also understand that people need time away from their significant others. I like alone time too and when Wes had a boys night out, I had a girls night. Besides I could never tell if Jason Schwartzman was oblivious, deadpan, or a just dickhead. Although after a few meetings, I was leaning toward dickhead. Who else would wear jackets and pants that are too short for them? Not to mention that he always talks over everyone. Owen Wilson on the other hand, is a stitch. He talks a lot too, but then he'll pierce you with his intense gaze and all you can do is talk and vacillate between staring at his nose and his eyes while he nods thoughtfully at you, as if he's listening.
A high point of NYC was being in the city when my globe trotter friend, Ris, was in town. After a stint in the tropics learning how to be a latin dancer, Ris took her talents and combined them into a hot new dance style, hip hop, latin dance mixed with breaking. Ris was the world's premiere B-girl. She's developed quite a name for herself and was in town to do Saturday Night Live. She wasn't hosting it, Justin Timberlake was, but she had a dancing part for a skit and got me a ticket. The night was amazing, and on top of being an amazing dancer, Ris was a stitch on stage. I have a feeling she may have a writing gig on SNL when she's done with her world tour.
Shortly after Ris left town, Wes left as well. He's gone a lot working on a new screenplay, and divides his time between NYC and Paris--rough gig, right?
He was here a lot in the beginning, finishing up the editing for his new film, My Best Friend. I got to meet the cast and crew and have made a lot of contacts in the film world. Which is awesome, considering that's what I went to college for. A double bonus is that I found a lot of film people have good ideas, but don't have the know how to write a decent story/screenplay. Looks like I may have a job in the future. Until then however, I was helping out/logging footage for Wes's new film.
But, he left before it was complete, putting the editor and producer on hold and I didn't feel so great about that. Especially since I was still in town and had to deal with the unhappy looks in Wes's absence. So I took it upon myself to go in to the editing booth and cut my own version of the flick. Seeing all the footage from having to log the scenes really helped me get a feel for the story and how I thought it should be told. I finished my rough cut over a weekend. Granted I didn't sleep a wink, but then again I was in the correct city for that, wasn't I?
I'll be honest. It was quite presumptuous of me to cut the film. But what else could I do? No progress was being made and I wasn't doing shit in the city by myself. I had a good feeling for the script, the story and what I thought Wes's vision was, although to be honest, he talked to me less and less the more he worked on his new script. I think he was lost in thought. I know I tend to do that when I'm in the heat of a scene. What could making my own version of the film hurt? I didn't change what they'd done before he left. I was just practicing my rusty editing skills, right?
Anyway, Wes came back late Sunday night. It may have been earlier, but I didn't see him until later when he found me in the editing booth, curled up in the chair with my head nodding to and fro in slumber. Staring at a computer screen for a whole weekend nonstop causes jubilation at first, like a runner's high, you've pushed too far, but then you just crash wherever you happen to be. I happened to still be in the computer chair.
I don't really know what happened after that. I woke up, warm, cozy and on a palette of blankets in the corner of the booth. I had a very Pollyanna moment when I wandered into the viewing room and was met with hugs, smiles and people generally cheering that I was alive.
Except they weren't cheering because I was alive, they were cheering because of my rough cut of the film. Wes, dear sweet, quiet Wes, came up to me, hugged me with his warm soft corduroy jacket enveloping me, then held my face in his hands and kissed me.
"You knew the story better than even I did. I didn't know how to reconcile the part toward the end, but you showed me it didn't have to be, and that was the beauty of it." He smiled at me, the man rarely shows a true smile, which is part of his charm, but it startled me.
I took a step back and decided that I needed to break up with him.
This life of wishy washiness didn't suit me. A life of hand me down stories and friends didn't fit with what I wanted for myself, and that's what I would have with Wes. I explained this to him. I explained that New York was fun, but didn't suit for my future. People in NYC didn't travel. Hell they didn't drive and had everything they needed at their fingertips.
That wasn't me. What I needed was spread all over the world, and I wasn't going to be able to find it if I stayed here.
Somehow I think that's what got through to Wes. I believe his trip to India for Darjeeling Limited had changed him and he understood that sometimes you couldn't find what you needed where you were. Sometimes the answers were outside of ourselves.
We parted on wonderful terms, with a warm corduroy hug that lasted longer than it should've for two people who have just broken up and I went off to find what I needed--wherever and whatever that may be.