On the tail end of our drive to Portsmouth, New Hampshire in October, my friend/driving buddy Linda and I were treated to a brief rain shower followed by a full half rainbow that lingered in the sky for a good five minutes or so. It was spectacular and it seemed to bend in our direction and point us on our way. It reminded me of my drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and how welcome the beautiful sunset (and my convertible) made me feel. I was receiving the same cheerful hello from New England, where leaf-peeping was in full swing and I couldn't be happier to be heading for this watery harbor town. I arrived, checked in to hotel and festival, and headed for the opening night film, starring NKOTB Joey McIntyre, who, since I don't watch reality shows (there, I admitted it), I remembered most recently not for his dancing prowess but for his turn on Broadway in Wicked which I had seen when my friend took me and his mom from Indiana out for a night on the town - and what a night for sure - but I digress.
Being one to seize on kitsch whenever possible, I did wrangle my way into a chit-chat with Mr. McIntyre for a bit at the party before some
young(er) ladies circled him and told him about how much they had worshipped him and how they *screamed* when they saw him live. He looked toward me for my story, prompting me to throw my arms up in a mea culpa "I was a David Cassidy girl!" which promted the same Mr. McIntyre to look right through me and suggest a threesome to the other two. Oh, and did I mention that he had just mentioned his pregnant wife? I kid you not. Baby boy was born last week. I snapped this picture before I moved on. That's me and him, I swear. Moving on....Working my way around the room, I found some other great folks. I could not resist approaching a guy in a (here it comes, thanks for your patience) Southland Tales T-shirt. Donnie Darko fan that I am, I knew he wasn't Richard Kelly, but couldn't figure out who in the name of
Drew Barrymore would have the audacity to wear such a T-shirt in public. Turns out, it was Mark Constance, the 2nd AD on the film who claims it was a blast to work on even though no one knew what the hell was going on. I of course wanted the skinny on my beloved Buffy, and was pleased with nothing but positive accounts of Ms. Geller on set. There's Mark proudly sporting said T-shirt. What a trooper.Anyway, my screening was the next morning. A gaggle of cousins and friends old (and new) from Massachusetts kindly drove up for the occasion, as did my father and his wife who sadly spent a little too much time on Parking Lot (oops, I mean Interstate) 84, to come out and support me. The screening went well for what it was (I'll say no more about the festival's touted 'venue' expansion because, well, I'm a Buddhist, goddamit) and I am grateful to Lama Norlha Rinpoche's sangha in New Hampshire for getting the word out and having such a great attendance at the screening. And what a wonderful town Portsmouth is, and what a restaurant the Friendly Toast is! A toast to the Friendly Toast! And to Linda who will be starting Three-Year retreat very, very soon.....wow!
And as for Southland Tales, well, everything you've heard is true, but seeing is believing and I do believe it'll be spending some time in my DVD player someday, right next to its baby brother Donnie Darko. Whoever gave Richard Kelly the budget to make that is a saint and I love them! But he sure knows how to make you work for it, so it's late and I'm wiped out from that crazy 2 1/2 hours of hijinx and Liquid Karma (and Wally Shawn making out with Bai Ling!!!!!) so I promise you my next installment of WHAT IN THE WORLD... from beautiful Portsmouth, as well as tales from the southwest, real, real soon.
