The Sound of Time:  A Ghost in New York City

The Sound of Time: A Ghost in New York City

I am the ghost. That passes through you. That sits and watches you.

Even when you are not there, you are right beside me in my head.

I wonder about you.

“I miss the times I’ve never lived in, and dream of future that’s never gonna come”.

Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? What is it like to be on this earth and only 21 years old.

When I leave you, I immediately begin to miss you.

I watch you, checking your phone, for text messages, and I wonder about you, what it’s like to be 21 years old in a world that seems to be run by 21 year olds, in a clumsy dance between those who are being cast center stage in a screenplay they haven’t read, that’s been written by a wistful mid-thirty something or forty-something, whose been eaten by a couch named Nostalgia yet pretends it’s a cave he can find his way out of anytime.

I wonder, What is it like to be you.

I feel so peaceful around you.

Your intelligence wraps around me like a blanket. I want to sleep beside you. To hold your hand and lay on my back, you beside me, and look up at the ceiling of your room and my room and we’ll put those sticky stars there, that glow in the dark, and we’ll watch them. And listen to the sounds of each other’s breath, our chest rising and falling, the emotions, a cascade of possibilities.

Me, I’m the eternal optimist, always expecting the best and finding the diamonds scattered on the sidewalks, while you are the empiricist, seeing things for the way that they really are. You’re the thinker. I’m the dreamer. And that’s what I appreciate, as it fills in the deficit, paving over the potholes that interrupt the best of intentions.

Everything about her moves me in some way. Watching her, i feel intoxicated, by her every gesture. the bend of the neck. the movement of her eyes, the sideways glance, her hands. the smile that comes up quickly, when her shyness is absent. And that voice of hers, so soft, so peaceful. The way she chooses her words.

“There is a moment”, she says. “Lets walk over there, in the shadows”, she says. “In this moment”, she says, as she begins her sentence.

I walk beside her, hypnotized. I can’t even keep direction around her. Thankfully, she’s good with directions and her iPad is useful, too.

Her breathing and the rise and fall of her chest.

Tell me.

In this moment.

There is a moment.

What does it mean.

After coming home from hanging out with Marian, I have no interest in looking at porn or masturbation. I have such a caring and like and feelings for this girl, who’s just coming into adulthood and walking the precipice between being kind-and-open or closed-and-cautious. And what can i, a 44-year old almost-homeless boy teach her? It’s a beautiful mess, a beautiful girl like Marian being in my world. even as a friend, i’ll
love her.

She introduces me to such interesting places … Artichoke Pizza, The High Line, The Meatpacking District, Chinatown, Battery Park, The Staten Island Ferry, Central Park. We wander. We explore. I’m hypnotized by the sound of her voice, her choice of words, her gestures. The sound of time ameliorates when you’re with someone you love.

I want her to like me like i like her–we collide like two supernovas and disappear into each other and become best friends and more. We sleep beside each other, holding hands. We sleep in abandoned buildings. We go to the roof and sleep on the roof, watching the stores, kissing, telling stories. her soft breath escaping those lips while her chest rises and falls in wavelike motion. We merge. We become the ocean of us. Together, we can breathe underwater.

– – – – – – –

Tonight. I’m so lonely. I’m alone.

I am sitting inside Lauralee’s massive loft space at 132 east 16th street, a minute walk away from Union Square Park at 14th Street – Union Square, a central hub meeting place for multiple subway lines that stretch out like octopus arms in different directions to different boroughs.

I just texted Deborah, who worked with Marian today on “Margarita, with a Straw” a movie that’s based on an award-winning indian movie, won at sundance or something. She said they wrapped at 8. It’s 10:57pm now. I texted marian around 10pm and heard no reply. She’s probably at some bar in Williamsburg or Bushwick, hanging out with her 25 – 30 year old friends. she’s cute and interesting so she gets the attention.

I’ve already shown her the best of me. If she doesn’t love me by now, she’s not likely to in the future. she said she likes a guy that’s picky. She also likes a guy who other girls like. I’m not social enough to garner the attention of a slew of women. I can work a room if i want. It’s just that i’m usually in a hermit state, working on projects. once they’re done, I work the room in order to get the crew to make them happen.

With Marian, I’ve made her up in the parenthesis of my mind. But the reality is this: she’s not adventurous enough, she’s not affectionate enough, and she doesn’t like me like I need her to. I want her to like me like i like her–we collide like two supernovas and disappear into each other and become best friends and more. We sleep beside each other, holding hands. We sleep in abandoned buildings. We go to the roof and sleep on the roof, watching the stores, kissing, telling stories. her soft breath escaping those lips while her chest rises and falls in wavelike motion. We merge. We become the ocean of us. Together, we can breathe underwater.

She called me, saying she was one stop away. I showered When i dryed off and returned to the living room of Lauralee’s loft, I saw there was a text message, asking where I was. I called her and said I’d be there in 2 minutes. I hustled. walking briskly down 16th street, toward union square, then, making a left on Irving Place.

Someone said something and I looked and it was Ariel Eliaz, an actor. We talked a bit, then I continued walking to Walgreen’s. Marian was curled up in a crouch position, her butt on the outside edge of a subway curb, looking at her iPad.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she said.

I’m about to give her a hug.

“Wait,” she says.

She puts her iPad in it’s pouch, zipping it, placing it in her bag, then hugs me.

She gets up and we start walking. She had to use the bathroom. We enter Starbucks only to find the bathroom is not in service. There’s homeless camps that inhabit the nearby Union Square Park and they usually leave the bathrooms destroyed.

We walk along 14th street, heading west to 7th Avenue.

Between 15th and 16th to go to “The Lite Choice”. It’s closed. We go to a nearby donut place, take a seat. She has an apple juice. I have a coffee and a Boston cream donut. There’s no bathroom there.

Afterward, we part ways. Later, I meet Liraz and follow her around “Forever 21”. We grab lunch at Nathan’s Hot Dog Palace. I pay for a 2 hotdog deal and buy her a lemonade. The food sucked. Liraz looked scared.

“You look skinny,” she said.

She left. So did I.

This is what i feel like writing to Marian: I am in love with you, Marian. You’re pretty and smart and every time when I am near, I want to hold your hand, kiss you, touch you. Since you keep refusing me, I can no longer be your friend. This is what happens when a guy likes a girl and a girl does not feel the same way. Please do not call me or text me or email me because I can’t go on like this. is that melodramatic
or what?

I am in Think Coffee, off of 4th Avenue. I am drinking a 20-ounce coffee. I request it 3/4 filled, so I can fill the remainder with milk, a bit of cream, and lots of raw natural sugar. Delicious. I’m not going to eat anything for a few days. This will be a combination in order to skinny-it-up so i can focus on finish writing the rails an amazing screenplay that I banged out the treatment for, the step outline for, the characters for, in a tornado of verbs and nouns that erupted in a muscular narrative, a niagara falls, ground lightning connecting with lighting from the sky, connecting in one big shuttering photographic moment. This screenplay is going to be amazing. It’s the creative lightning that keeps me fueled and happy, among other things. As long as i have something in life to look forward to–writing a screenplay, hanging out with a cool girl like Marian.

The possibilities keep me happy.

Thank God for this beautiful life, full of wonder, curiosity and joy. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God!

– – – – – – –

Marian got a waiver yesterday on “The Other Woman”. Her first waiver. I texted her:
“Congratulations, Marian. I’m so happy for you!”

I’m at “Think Coffee” on 4th Ave between 12th and 13th St. Some Asian woman just sat beside me. She smells bad, like dried sweat and fried fish. Maybe she’s a hooker and just got laid or gave someone a blow job or got eaten out.

There’s a girl to my right who I asked to watch my computer as I went to the bathroom, twice. She’s pretty, dark curly hair, nice legs. Said she’s studying engineering. Smart girl. I asked her if she was a famous writer. That’s when she answered she’s studying engineering.

The homeless people around Union Square are annoying. If they’re demonstrating value in some way, by offering a service or tangible product, they could earn money and continue to support themselves while being homeless. When they beg, it’s just annoying. They just sit around and mumble to themselves and complain and don’t do anything. They could be at the library, learning a skill, then using that skill to earn money. Instead, they just sit around do nothing. At least the subway musicians entertain people.

July 21, 2013

Sometimes i feel like i’m chasing a ghost. I wander alone through New York City. I roam, making my way through the gas stations of this world–Think Coffee, Chipotle, Whole Foods, Panera Bread, movie theaters–places that offer a bathroom and free water, two essentials when you’re roaming NYC.

I text friends and they, usually, cannot hang out.

Some of these so-called friends i will not text anymore. Liraz has a boyfriend and only texts me when she wants a shopping companion, someone to make her feel good about herself. And Allison and Lauralee only text me when they want something. with allison, she texted me when she needed help building a bed.

At least I told Allison that I wanted to spend the night, got to spend the night, and then massaged her and touched her boob. Allison is my type of girl: a pale beauty with nice tits. When I touched her lovely, milky breast, she said “whoa” and I retreated my hand. But, thinking about it now, I think she wanted me to continue touching and then go down on her and then have sex with her, but she was putting up resistance because she didn’t want to feel responsible.

She wanted me though, at least that night, but I retreated anyway. She has nice boobs. Lauralee usually texts me when she wants a shoulder to cry one. She’ll say she’s in pain or needs someone to talk to, and i’m tired of that position in her life. Then, she’ll complain and cry about some guy she’s sleeping with that is emotionally unavailable.

I’m beginning to see that most, if not all girls, only call you when they want something. They have different guys for different reasons.

July 23, 2013

Marian is in Belarus. Lucia, her sister, who I’m friends with on Facebook, too, posted a picture of her mom on Facebook, and she is fat and has a big head. Her mom looks like Marian might look in 30 years, if she continues to eat a lot and doesn’t exercise or take care of herself. Hmmm. Maybe I’m not attracted to Marian any more if she might look like that in 30 years. Her mom has a grumpy face expression, too. Marian is cute now and she is 21. Maybe that’s why she’s cute, because she’s 21. Most people, at 21, are cute.

July 28, 2013 – 9:37 pm

Yesterday, I worked “Oliver’s Deal”, a low-budget, independent film, starring Stephen Dorff. The call-time was 7:45 am at a building on the West side of midtown, on the 38th floor. Since I am, sometimes, claustrophobic, I was dreading the elevator ride up. Thankfully, the elevator was large and it moved quickly. So, after a ride or two or three, I was fine.

Holding, where the extras hang out, was on the 38th floor. Set was on the 37th floor. There was about 20 extras, all union I’m guessing, including Piano Cea and this girl, Kelly, who complains a lot. Our job was to be stockbrokers, sitting in front of computers, tapping away, while talking on headset phones, not talking but pantomiming, and looking stressed, while the camera follows behind Stephen Dorff as he walks along the office.

After work, I met Allison Hall and we went to an Indian restaurant in the East Village. It was about $30 each for the meal, and the meal was mediocre. The iced-coffee was just black coffee in ice, no sugar, no cream, so I traded it for a Coca-Cola. The waitress was not attentive. Allison mentioned a $15 dollar tip and I said “No. She sucked. She doesn’t deserve a $15 dollar tip. $8 dollars is enough.”

After the restaurant, we walked to Pyramid Club and danced to 80’s new wave, then left around 11:45. I suggested we leave in order to get a train as, sometimes, the wait is too long if it’s late at night, and it’s hot waiting for the train in the subway.

Sometimes I think about returning to France and traveling–hitchhiking and using Couchsurfing and WWOOF (Willing Workers On Organic Farms)–through to Germany, then heading north into Denmark and Sweden and returning south then east into Poland and Russia, then west into France, then south into Italy. That’s my long-term goal–to hitchhike, backpack through Europe for a year, Couchsurfing and WWOOFing, with a pretty and smart girl. In between we’ll camp.

We’ll go everywhere and document our journey on a tablet computer with a keyboard attachment (with a waterproof case for both of these) and in a leather-bound journal. We’ll keep track of everything and we’ll fall in love with each other, with the journey, with the country, and experience the grand adventure of living in a country that allows adults to be adults, the country that is Europe. We’ll document everything. And, at the end of our journey, although there will be no end, except we might settle to work at a chateau for a few months, and to publish our journals and photographs online, we’ll have the stories and the adventures of a lifetime. We’ll live the life that others only dream about. Anyone can lead this type of life but they let their assumptions of reality obfuscate their potential dream. We’ll live the life that others only dream about. And we’ll show that anyone can lead this type of life, it’s just a matter of taking the steps to make that life a reality, then leaving the U.S. and going to Europe.

July 29, 2013

I’m at Think Coffee on 4th Ave near East 12th St. Been filling in details on ‘the rails’, a screenplay I’m writing.

Got a reply email to an email that I sent to Marian, the cute Belarusian actress.

She’s currently in Belarus, visiting her family.

In my email, I wrote: I was thinking about death and if you ever died I would really miss you.

She replied: I will never die

Interesting girl. At first when I read that, I laughed. Then, I realized it’s true. No one ever dies. People die physically. The soul lives forever.

August 8, 2013

Marian called yesterday, just as I was standing at the corner food place that has delicious fried chicken and fresh fried fish. It’s good to hear that she’s back. I was laughing and in a good mood, even before she called, so much so that she asked: “Are you drunk?”

And I explained: “No. I’m happy. I’m really happy, because I just realized something– that no one can make me happy, only I can make myself happy. I used to think that hanging out with Allison, that if she liked me, would make me happy, but it’s not true. Because I hang out with her and get bored. It’s only the thought-of-hanging-out-with-her that makes me feel that way, because I’ve hyped it up in my own mind. But only I can make myself happy. And I’m happy. I don’t need people to make me happy. That’s why I’m laughing.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Marian said in that adorable Belarusian accent, sounding like “ohwoh

I’m fond of girls who are pale, wear very little or no makeup, have a natural beauty, have no tattoos, and dress like they’re from the 1940’s or 1950’s. One of the beautiful things about being in New York City is that during the winter I see a lot of girls dressing in these lovely coats, with leggings and boots and it’s such a beautiful site.

During the winter, New York City is a refrigerator of epiphanies–a wonderful slideshow of images, snapshots of our lives developed in the darkroom of our mind, that serve to inspire me and take me to a time where people had discretion, manners, and a kind of charm which is the antithesis of the cultivated boredom and feigned nonchalance that’s perpetuated by this entitled generation that’s lacks depth and integrity.

My friend Marian put it this way: “I miss the times I’ve never lived in, and dream of future that’s never gonna come”.

Although she is a beautiful girl, Marian also has a beautiful brain. Love her.

I can relate to that statement. That’s why I’m a writer. That’s why I wrote a musical. That’s why I’m currently writing a screenplay. I like to assemble the possibilities.

August 9 2013

Worked Boardwalk Empire. 15 hours something. Almost got golden time.

August 10, 2013

Hung out with Marian for hours at Central Park Reservoir, discussing a bunch of stuff. She starts crying at one point. We made little films. It was lovely.

August 12, 2013

I’m sitting at a table in a public sitting area that consists of a giant triangle-shaped median dividing Columbus Avenue and Broadway, at the intersection of 66th Street, in the Upper West Side, Manhattan, New York City. About 50 feet away is the 66th St – Lincoln Center Subway Station. I’m eating grapes.

Yesterday, Sunday, Marian met me at Union Square. I was on the 5th floor of Designer Shoe Warehouse or Burlington Coat Factory, I forgot which, because they’re stacked on top of on another, adjacent to the Whole Foods, and I instructed her to wait for me, that I’d be right down. I come down the escalators and she looks at me wide eyed, with a smile. I had had my hair cut, short, the night before, at a corner barber about 50 yards away from my room, on Wilson Avenue. A bunch of kids, 20-year olds were in the shop, cutting hair, mainly chatting with their friends in Spanish. They were Dominican kids, very friendly, they offered me a slice of pizza and a bottle of Heinekin, and I declined, thanking them. The guy who cut my hair was drinking and the more he drank the more he bounced the clippers off the back of my skull. He did a good job, though. It makes me look tough. I like the haircut.

Marian says she’s starving, that she hasn’t eaten the whole day, and wants to go to Chipotle, so we walk there, and get two soft tacos and I get the condiment plastic cups and fill one up with Barqs root beer for me and the other with Sprite for Marian. It’s our little routine. I came up with that when I was at Chipotle with Deborah, another actor, and it was a walkaway lunch for a pilot for this show, somewhere on the West Side, and it was cold but we were told to dress for summer.

After eating at Chipotle, on 15th and Irving, we took the uptown train to 86th Street, got out, walked to the Goodwill on 88th and 2nd Avenue, about 30 second walk from where I used to live (319 East 88th Street, Apt. 17). There, Marian bought a of blue shoes ($12) and tried on a pair of form-fitting blue pants.

“I don’t like them.” She stated flatly.

They hugged her butt. She looked good in them, I told her. Maybe she doesn’t like her butt or the way they felt.

She bought the shoes and then we walked to Central Park Reservoir. It was late afternoon, cloudy overhead, and the air felt cooler.

We sat, talked, took a lot of pictures (I took a lot of pictures of her), did some video on her iPad. She talked and opened up to me. She started crying. I asked her way she was crying and, after I reassured her I wouldn’t judge her, she told me.

“When I was seven,” she began, “there was this guy who told me and my sister that we’d always be whores.” She continued. “There is something wrong with me. In my head. In my brain, that I don’t know how to fix. That’s why I want to take mushrooms. To erase these bad thoughts.”

“Can you do something for me?” She asked in that angelic voice of hers.

“Sure,” I said.

“When I do the mushrooms, I want to be with someone I trust,” she explained.

“I’m sure you have lots of friends,” I said.

“With someone I can really trust.” Pause. “Would you sit with me to make sure I don’t
do anything crazy?”

“Yes,” I agreed.

We continued walking and once we reached the other side, discovered we had circled the entire length of the park, that we were back on the East side again. I think we walked about 3/4 of the way around it, before we sat down. Marian is a special person. Last night, I prayed for her.

Eventually, hours later, we left the park, found a Starbucks to use the restroom, then
took the train to 14th St – Union Square.

We’re sitting on the bench at 14th Street waiting to get on the L train and someone’s like “hey” or “kris” and I turn to see Jasmine Brotzman, an actor friend, sitting in the seat on the far end. I hug her and introduce her to Marian. It’s cool. We take the L train. Marian gets off at Lorimer. Jasmine gets off at Halsey. I get off at Wilson.

Jasmine invited us to a rooftop screening of “Breaking Bad”, the final episode. Later I went. It was fun. Met some nice people.

I need to read The Bible and pray for my friends like Marian, Meghan, Chelsea, Liraz,
Piano, Jasmine.

I feel lonely. Not all the time. But now.

I’m sure there’s a lot of lonely people in NYC. Walking around, guard up, invisible fists in the air, buttoned-up in their suit of armor.

Tues Aug 13, 2013
I need to fast for at least 7 days. Kick the sugar habit. Kick the porn habit. Discipline = freedom. This will bring clarity and drive, necessary for the completion of projects such as the rails and the musical.

Wed Aug 14 2013
Got a letter from Melissa Leisure at Central Casting saying that I’m terminated. Central Casting controls about 50% of all BackGround (BG) acting jobs in the New York City area. Basically, Central Casting has a monopoly on all the jobs for BG actors aka “extras” that fill out the scenes for movies and TV shows. Central Casting’s current casting is for: Amour Amour, Beware the Night, White Collar, Song One, The Leftovers. Hammy the Bear, God’s Pocket, St. Vincent De Van Nuys, Law and Order, Blue Bloods, and a number of other shows.

I worked White Collar (once), Song One (once, stood about 3 feet from Anne Hathaway in a club scene, watching a musician, I played a hipster, wore a ridiculous tennis band around my head, the one given to me by Meghan Hurley, from her visit to the U.S. Open, a gray tank top and skinny jeans and these huge 90’s style glasses), God’s Pocket (twice, matching shot), and Hammy the Bear (twice, matching shot).

It was on Hammy the Bear, I found out after working it, from Melissa Leisure, that someone accused me of sexual harassment. I wasn’t told who, nor was I told what I did wrong. Melissa from Central Casting interviewed me over the phone, and then I get this email saying I’m terminated. Sucks. I wanted to work “Beware the Night”, this movie that Eric Bana is in.

I forwarded the email to Cedric, this SAG lawyer. I have a feeling there’s nothing he can do because the letter is so nebulous and basically states that at any time, I can be terminated from Central Casting for any reason. When you go in there to sign up for them, you sign a release that states that, so there’s probably not much I can do, but we’ll see.

Thursday, August 16, 2013
Yesterday I worked as a stand-in on “Hostages”. Saw Kevin there, who’s been a longtime stand-in of the now-cancelled “Smash”. It was just me and him and Tony. Tony had an 11am call. It was at Broadway Stages, in Brooklyn, off the G train. I took L to Lorimer, then the B48 bus to Nassau Ave/Monitor Street, then walked to 372 Kingsland Ave, Stage 20. It was the stage where they filmed “Golden Boy”, now cancelled. I was there last year from that.

Afterward, I called Marian and said “how’d your soup turn out?”

“How’d you know I was making soup?” She asked in a sleepy voice.

“Ha ha ha, because you got the ingredients for it when we hung out,” I replied.

“I’m making it now. How did you know?” She asked.

“I just now,” I smiled. “Do you want to hang out?” I asked.

“Let’s meet in Union Square in 20 minutes,” she said.

“Okay.” I said.

I took the G train but was looking for the Lorimer stop. Apparently, the “Lorimer” stop, from the G train side, is “Metropolitan”, so I did not get out. Had to take the G train back to Metropolitan, then switch to the L train toward Manhattan. By the time I arrived in Union Square she texted me and she was at Salvation Army, off 4th Avenue, near 12th St.

“Where were you?” She asked. “I’ve been here half an hour.”

“I took the wrong train,” I explained. “Sorry.”

She got this cool top and skirt, matching set, half-off, for only $6.50. We left, then up 3rd Ave to 23rd Street, and I showed her the Goodwill. We looked around. She was looking for a sleeveless denim jacket but did not find one.

“Let’s go to that other store.” She suggested.

“The one with the upstairs?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She said.

We took the uptown train to 86th St. It was crowded. The train was running with delays. It was so crowded, that Marian took my hand as we left the train at 86th and her small pale fragile hand felt so good in mine, it felt like home.

On the way to the 88th & 2nd Avenue Goodwill, I told her: “There’s no one like you,
Marian. You’re just different. You’re cool. I like you a lot.”

I put my arm around her.

“Ugghhh,” she grunted, pulling away.

“What?” I asked.

“I like you but I don’t love you.” She stated.

After that, I was quiet, walking a little ahead of her, not glancing back to look at her. She tapped me on the left shoulder, I pretended I didn’t know it was her, I turned around and glanced at her and laughed. But still, as we entered Goodwill, I was pretty much in a
fog, reeling at what she had said.

At Goodwill, we looked around. She found some black pants “BGD” and sunglasses. After we walked to park (Central Park Reservoir), sat at a bench, and talked. We saw a raccoon scurry past the joggers, bicyclists, and walkers, toward the reservoir. She wanted to see it, so we walked toward it, but by this time it was already deep in the bushes.

– – – – – – –

At home, I sent Marian this email:


When i was with you tonight and we were riding the subway and it was crowded and i walked out and you grabbed my hand … it felt so good.

There’s something about you that’s very special. when i’m around you, i feel peaceful. you have this beautiful voice and this cool way of speaking and you have these cool phrases …. “in this moment”, “there is a moment”, “in the

Then later, when we were sitting on the bench, i just wanted to hold your hand

i’m falling in love with you.

Because of that, i don’t think we should hang out anymore since you don’t feel the
same way.


– – – – – – –

Needing some advice, I went to Lynn’s Lair, this FB page where she invited anyone to post whatever they wanted, so I posted this:

I’m in love with my friend and she likes me but doesn’t love me. Should I end the
friendship. I want to hold her hands, put my arm around her shoulder, but she doesn’t want that. Should I end the friendship? Your advice.

Don’t forget that it is human nature to want what we cannot have. I’m not encouraging playing any “hard to get” games here or anything like that, I think that’s very childish and immature. However, I am encouraging that you show her your value by not always being around and giving her the freedom to ponder upon what she feels for you. As I mentioned in the previous comment, go out and have fun and meet women. Believe me, not all hope is lost, there are still some amazing men and women out there !!!!

Hope you are having a wonderful night Kris Kemp. It is my pleasure to help you. One of my favorite quotes is this : “Love is friendship that has caught on fire” (Ann Landers). I know how frustrating your situation can be but patience is a virtue not many people have my friend… I personally don’t think you should end the friendship, continue being friends with her and treat her nicely, continue seeing her… However, don’t revolve your whole world around her. Go out, have fun, and meet other women. Tell her that you respect her decision and that you will continue being her friend. There are three possible outcomes : 1) You will meet another amazing woman who loves you and you will forget about her; 2) She will start wondering why you are not always around her and/or contacting her so often anymore and as a result she will start reflecting upon what she truly feels for you which can turn into love; or 3) Time will pass and as your friendship grows and
matures sparks will start appearing and it will turn into love. Hope this can help
you. -Lynn

Friday, August 23, 2013, 7pm
I’m upstairs at Whole Foods, at 14th St – Union Square. Worked 2pm – 6:15pm on “The Following”. Did stand-in. Got paid $169. Nice. Thank God!

Got a text from Allison at Grant Wilfley (GW) Casting, asking if I wanted to work MTV’s (Music Television) VMA’s (Video Music Awards). Said yes. Got it. Also, got 2 calls from GW that would not play for some reason. So I texted, then got a text back, asking if I could work for POI (Person of Interest) on Monday. Texted them, saying yes. Got a reply. “Sorry” they already filled spot. “NP, thanks anyway” NP – No Problem I texted them. Something better will come for Monday, a commercial, SAG, $342 for 8 hours + principal $1,660 for 8 hours.

8:55 pm
Cool. Marian called. I called her earlier and did not leave a message.
She’s going to meet me at Union Square.

Saturday, August 24, 2013
Last night, Marian and I walked East 14th Street, west, sat on sidewalk bench and talked. I was in a really good mood, happy that she called and, when she called to tell me she was in front of Walgreens, and I told her I’d meet her, then walked from the 2nd floor of Whole Foods (at Union Square) to see her standing, leaning against a column, in front of Walgreens, facing me, but not knowing it was me, I was even happier to see her face, for she had bangs, which added to her beauty.

From then on, seeing her, hugging her, going for a walk with her, sitting with her, her telling me she got a third waiver on “Cymbeline” and that the director, she thinks, likes her, I just love her. Her voice, her paleness, her eyes leave me mesmerized. There’s a lot of beautiful girls in NYC. But there is one Marian.

I talked to her about this and she said that 3 guys called her to see what she was doing. I told her funny stories and we acted out scenes from the sides (script) from “The Following”, from earlier that day, on which I had been doing stand-in.

“I love this,” Marian said, referring to our conversation and fun rehearsals.

I want her to love me.

We walked to the West Village. She wanted to eat. So did I. Some place with dim lighting. We found an okay mexican place called Banuleu, ordered, and as we ate, our conversation quieted. Before we ate, she reminded me to pray.

Before she got off the train at Lorimer, I told her: “I think about you a lot.”

“Think about God”, she said.

Makes me love her even more.

Sunday, August 25, 2013
Last night, well yesterday actually, I worked at the VMA’s (Video Music Awards) portraying a PA (Production Assistant). Me and 11 other extras (background actors) pretended to be walking busily or pushing crates-on-wheels (Cody and me) while Kate Perry walks from a hallway and into a lobby.

It was a pre-taping, showing Kate Perry walking by herself, which would not happen as every other time, she was flanked by 5-to-7 people comprised of personal assistants, security, and others. You think that TV would document her life as-it-is. But this was fake carefully orchestrated in detail. A big fake empire of staged and practiced motions.

The main PA who staged everything even had us rehearse our movements, using another PA, a girl, to play Katie. We did this–the rehearsal–5 times I think.

I’m getting smarter, stronger, younger-looking. I’ve been earring healthy, going to Whole Foods and ordering fresh vegetable juices–kale, beet, sometimes with carrot. Some other goals including not looking at porn, to quit biting my nails, and do 450 sit-ups a day, in sets of 150.

I’m going to produce the musical, sell it for $5 million. Before then, I’ll finish the rails, produce and amazing trailer for it, and pay someone to complete it in graphic novel form, and Darren Aronofsky will produce it. I know as long as I focus on God, then my goals, that I can realize my dreams.

Once you put God first, everything else falls into place.

Discipline equals freedom.

On the coin of life, discipline is tails and freedom is heads. Or rather, on the coin of life, tails is discipline, heads is freedom.

The girls in NYC seem to be only after 3 things: fame, fortune, power. They’re also info-addicts, addicted to chick-crack like texting, Facebook status updates, comments. They only want to know information. They do not care about the person. As fun as sex can be, all the downtime and stupidness in between is not worth it.

Two nights ago, walking the NYC streets, I saw these dolled-up girls, high heels, dresses, nail and toe polish, talking loudly about their exploits the night before, and I had deja vu that I was in West Palm Beach, Florida or at the Gardens (Palm Beach Gardens, FL) mall on Saturday afternoon. New York City has changed from the gritty enclave of the mid-to-late 80’s and early 90’s. I will not judge. If it is safer, and it is, I am glad for that.

Think about God.

Beauty is fleeting. Lust is temporal, a drive that evaporates and collapses under its own weight, leaving nothing in its place.

– – – – – – –

Marian and I were talking and she said she was trying to find the base.

“The base of love is sex.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“What is the base of success?” She asked.

Even at 22, she’s seeking to find the recipe for success.

We talked and for whatever clues I suggested, she had clues that suggested otherwise. Perhaps it’s just serendipity (good chance).

“There’s no sense.” Marian said.

Even at 22 years old, Marian has the temperament of a skeptic.

– – – – – – –

Saturday, Sept. 14, 2013 4:11pm
It’s 63-degrees and I just got off the phone with Marian.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” I started.

“What?” She asked.

“I’m happy. Learn from people who are happy.” I continued.

“But don’t you want to be socially accepted?” She asked.

And my house of cards fell to the ground.

“What do you mean?” I asked. But I knew what she meant. I just wanted her to
say it.

“You know what I mean.” She said.

“Like where people are calling me, wanting to hang out with me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Yeah.” I said.

And that’s one of the reasons why Marian is not attracted to me, because she wants someone who is popular among their peers, their friends, who is desired by others, in a social context. Something I can make happen by making changes in my social behavior. It is easy.

– – – – – – –

I hate this whole leggings-and-yoga pants shit that girls and women wear. It’s Sunday, 11:45am and I’m at Lincoln Center, 65th & Broadway, Upper West Side (UWS), Manhattan, and chicks are actually wearing yoga pants and leggings to this event, The New York City Film Festival. Skinny jeans is one thing, but yoga pants,leggings? C’mon. No class.

All these girls roaming NYC UWS, so arrogant. They never even look your way, unless a girl is with you. Even then, they don’t want you, they just want to destroy the girl so that they can suck more attention toward themselves.

Most NYC girls have been corrupted and destroyed by the constant attention of their guys-in-the-friendzone that circle their kiddie-pool-of-confidence, giving them a “like” or “love” or “thumbs up” on social media black holes like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat.

The social media attention that girls receive does not correspond with their looks or intelligence. The girls continue to date assholes because they like drama and chaos because they’re lives are boring and mediocre and they need anything to stir the pot. They feed at the drama buffet – on chaos.

They don’t know how to cook, play musical instruments, or have other skills necessary to maintain an inner confidence and to attract a mate for the long term. They rely on their looks and, at the end of the day, gravity wins.

But gravity does not exist. Gravity has never been proven. Density exists. Density is mistaken for gravity.

The sound of time exists. And from the sweep of the clock’s hand at birth until the sweep of the clock’s hand at death, there are moments in between. Moments in which we can make a difference, bending the space-time continuum and setting possibilities into motion, that create mountains for us to climb, oceans for us to dive, and worlds for us to explore.

Self-esteem comes from the inside, but they’re too ignorant to learn this fact. So
they consume more bullshit–girly magazines, cosmetics, shoes, trendy clothes, and get addicted to the loop, to the conveyer belt that leads to empty wallets and unsatisfied hearts.

I’ve got to remember to …
1. Qualify them
2. Make them laugh
3. Get them to invest
4. Have fun
5. Be mysterious
6. Create intrigue
7. Flip the script

Instead of trying to find a girlfriend who I’ll probably come to resent since they are time-eaters, I need to focus on my dreams, my own creative aspirations. As these creative aspirations require a team, I will assemble the team and put together a cool short film and I’ll lead them. This will be our own tribe, creative, cool, confident, laconic, stylish, European. This will be our tribe.

Thursday October 10, 2013
It’s around 9am. I’m sitting at holding for “Taxi Brooklyn” at Silvercup Studios,
42-22 22nd Street, Long Island City, Queens, NY.

Last night, I met Marian at Bedford stop and we went to an ice cream store. She got ice cream and we sat outside and talked. She was cold, so suggested we go to Dunkin Donuts which we did. Her and her ice cream. Me, I got a tea.

She told me she had seen “Gravity” that day. By herself.

She knew I wanted to see it with her, but she did not care.

I wasn’t finished the tea, but said I have to go and left for the L.

She got off at Lorimer. I rode to Wilson.

I texted her later, saying “I don’t want to hang out with you anymore.”

She replied: “okay”

Five minutes later, she texts: “Would you call me on Fridays”

Then, hour-and-a-half later, she texts: “Good decision, Kris, it’s a step forward for both of us.”

I’m not going to call her again. Eventually, if I do pick up her call, I will say to her, “If you want to talk, come over and give me a back rub” or “What’s up, I’m just on my way out, but I have a few minutes”.

Either get her to invest or let her know my time is valuable or both.

“I’m busy now, let me see if I can fit you in tomorrow. Hmm. No, I can’t. Call me
in a few days.”

“Good decision, Kris. It’s a step forward for both of us.”

How arrogant of her to text that. I wanted her to say, why? But instead, she says
“okay”, then “would you call me on fridays”, then that?

It’s a good decision for me.

For her, it’s not a good decision, nor is it a step forward. She doesn’t appreciate anything I’ve done for her, including my FB help the day earlier. Instead, she goes to “Gravity” by herself and she knew I wanted to see it with her. She’s selfish. She doesn’t care about me. And she doesn’t appreciate anything I’ve done for her.

October 23, 2013
I tried not to answer her calls for a few days and Marian left a message saying something like “what’s wrong with you, you’re so weird, why won’t you pick up my calls.”

I called her back and she said her phone was dying, so I said let’s meet
at Bedford. We met and talked at Dunkin Donuts on the corner.

She said she was worried about me. That felt so good to hear her say that.

“Why didn’t you say that?” I asked her.

“I thought you were mad. If you had said that,” she answered.

“Next time, just email me and ask me ‘are you ok?'”

She does care about me.

We talked and I was anxious about Central Casting calling and, thankfully, about 1/2 hour ago, they did, and I just checked in to get the details. Working “The Blacklist” tomorrow, 10:45am call to courtesy van on 96th & Broadway, play a traveller with luggage. Praise God!

I realized something tonight as Marian and I were talking at S&B, this polish restaurant on Bedford. Marian said “We should do this more” when we acted out a scene from “Jordy”. She likes to play make believe as it engages her mind, her emotions, and she can be someone else, and step outside of the shy girl who she is.

She has the potential to become a well-known actress in independent films. I hope
we take the ride together.

Tues, Dec. 31, 2013
New Years. Initially, I was planning to work coat check for “The Wander”, a NY Eve rave party nearby, at 77 Morgan Ave, in Brooklyn, off the L train. Feeling slightly lonely, and somewhat unmotivated, I left my postage-stamp sized room, walked to the subway, rode the L train to Morgan, then walked to 77 Morgan Avenue.

The streets were abandoned, dark, warehouse buildings, brick-and-windowless, all around. I spotted a door, no sign on it, but noise coming from behind it, and entered, walking into a large warehouse space, where a handful of people stood in clusters, some cops included, and sparse decorations that were of the art installation variety, but unfinished, sat haphazard on the floor.

I approached a group of people and asked: “Hey, do you know where I go. I’m doing coat-check.”

“What group are you in?” A guy answered.

“I don’t know. Jonah Lamarra called me.”

He said: “The event’s been cancelled. But I’m taking my group and we’re going somewhere else. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I answered, then returned home.

Back in my room, I sought for another adventure. It was New Years. I was in New York City. And I sure wasn’t staying home. I bought a ticket for BangOnNYC (Bang On NYC) Eve Rave, for $70 + a few dollars service fee, via PayPal.

I slipped on skinny black jeans, a black v-neck t-shirt, a puffy Banana Republic winter coat (also black), some smart wool socks, and Mephisto Goodyear shoes, and hopped down the steps, walking briskly to the mouth of the subway, and taking the L to the Jefferson stop.

From Jefferson, it was a long walk. In fact, LOL, the street led to a RR track, where I ascended a pedestrian stairway that went above the tracks to the other side of the street. On the other side, more industrial buildings until I arrived at 699 Scholes Street at corner of Onderonk Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11237.

Inside a gated area, that was open, gates opened, a tent had been set up for people to check in. Standing in line, I began talking to a girl, Megan, and we hung out throughout the night. As soon as we walked inside, she bought me a water. I ended up dancing with her, in front of the stage where trance bands played, and then later, on top of a bus.

There was a girl nearby spinning a baton that was set on fire on both ends. It was like a carnival or circus atmosphere.

I texted Marian, starting at just after 9pm. Then, I texted her throughout the night, 4x, with an hour or more, usually between.

Today at 10:42, she texts me: I was there. Just read ur mesh. sorry.

I think it’s time to ignore her. He actions show she doesn’t value me.

She’s unresponsive and remote. She is pretty, has a nice voice, and nice body shape. I want to kiss her, touch her, fuck her and go down on her. I told her that in a phone message: “When I see you, I want to kiss you, hold you, have sex with you.”

Maybe I scared her. She was probably at the rave with some guy and didn’t want to see me.

So, I’m at BangOn NY Eve rave party, dancing on the top of a bus. This fat girl pulls me in and starts making out with me. Her tongue was enormous. I could hardly breath. She was moving her tongue in and out so much. She suddenly pulls back, looks at me, and asks: “Did you throw up earlier? Cuz it smells like you did.”

“No.” I say.

“Well, you’re a good kisser, so it’s okay.”

She pulls me back and starts making out.


Wed, Jan 1, 2014
Marian Volkava, the 22-year old girl from Minsk, Belarus, who I was pretty much in love with, the one who ignores my texts NY eve night, even though I was at the same NY rave that she was at, unfriended and blocked me on Facebook. What a jerk. I had spent 9 months with her, as a best friend. Then, when I call her on Wednesday night (she had texted me Wednesday morning “I was there. Just read ur msg sorry”, I listened as she said she got there (to rave) late, and was standing in line at 11:20. She continued, using the words “we”. And I repeatedly (2x) asked her, “who were you with?”

“A friend”, she answered.

That angered me because she always does that–keeps guy friends secret from other guy friends.

I let her ramble, then interrupted her: “Marian, I don’t believe that you didn’t get my messages.”

“I had like 10 texts and I didn’t get them until the next day,” she protested.

“I’m calling bullshit on this one. You were there with your boyfriend and you didn’t want me to meet him. That’s why you didn’t pick up. Bye, Marian.”

The reasons why Marian Volkava is a jerk are:
1. She keeps her friends secrets from each other, so she can use them, flirt with
them to get attention, their time, etc
2. She lied to me, promised to see Gravity with me. Then saw herself.
3. She doesn’t value me, takes me for granted.
4. She lied to me about photos. Said she would tag me as photographer for photos
I took of her. Did not.
5. I introduced her to all my friends. She didn’t introduce me to any of hers.

Thurs, Jan 2, 2014
The plan was to go to Pyramid Club in the East Village, take the L to 8th Ave, then walk to Avenue A, between 6th & 7th, where it’s located, and dance with Allison Hall, Jaimie Joyner, Jasmine Brotzman. That did not happen.

Jasmine texted me saying she was sick and “the storm isn’t looking good.” Allison mentioned the weather, texting “It’s really bad out.” So, we cancelled the dance party.

Thankfully, Jasmine texted me, asking, “Want to come over for your birthday? Don’t be alone on your birthday.” I accepted her invitation, bundled up, and walked through the foot-high snow drifts covering the sidewalk to 345 Elder Street, a bottle of wine in hand that Aaron gave to me from dinner that he had cooked for me after I helped him move in to his apartment on Wilson Avenue.

Jasmine introduced me to her roommates. I laid on the living room floor and relaxed, while Jasmine stenciled, Ben & friend played chess, Jody looked for jobs on her laptop, and Albert watched a documentary about Jean Michael Basquiat. Jasmine and I joined him on the couch. He went to the corner store, I requested a bag of chips and bottle of Coca-Cola, the kind made in Mexico with cane sugar.

He returned with Doritos, the soda, and something for himself. Later, we ran outside, played in the snow, then to went up to the rooftop to run and slide in the snow. I took pictures. So did Evan, another guy who arrived later. Fun night.
Thank God! 🙂

Fri, Jan 3, 2014
Snowpacalpse. Snow blankets NYC. From snowstorm that started last night. So today, earlier, I took the L to Lorimer, then walked to McCarren Park. It was, literally, freezing. Snow banks 2′ hight. I think it was 17 or 10 degrees. I sent Marian some texts.

me: My birthday today.
her: Happy bday
me: Thank you, Marian.
me: Come ice skating with me.
her: Have a good day kris
me: Thanks. Wat u doing today.
me: U want me to send you some pics of the snow?
me: Well, Marian … McCarren Park – ice skating. It’s like 5 min from you.
me: U too Marian.

Even though I over-texted her, it got my hopes up that she texted back, and maybe we could still be friends. McCarren Park ice skating rink (small) was closed. Riding the subway on the return trip, I thought about Marian’s email reply. Last night, I emailed her

subj: I’m thinking about you
body: and I miss you

She replied:
For no reason

I emailed her back, today:
What do you mean.

She emails me back:
What I mean is that it’s time to move on and stop thinking about me because I will never be mutual. I wish you all the best and I don’t think we should see each other again.

Even though she is cute, it’s for the best since we have so little in common. Also, she’s said things then gone back on her word, like the movie thing.

– – – – – – –

Thinking about what happened between Marian and me, I realize that it’s all my fault. She was about half my age, gorgeous, smart, stylish, and with a beautiful voice. I fell in love with someone who saw me as a friend. I can’t blame her for anything. Even though we are no longer best friends, I occasionally see her on set and I wish her all the best. She’s a gem, even if she doesn’t realize it.

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