Today I Bumped Into . . .
. . . Philip Seymour Hoffman. Or rather, he bumped into me.
I mumbled an “excuse me” and we did the two-step getting out of each other’s way shuffle – conducted in total silence on his part because of the cigarette he had in his mouth which he was trying to light. We did, however, make eye to eye contact. I am taller than I thought!
OK, so I walked straight through a film shoot – lights, cameras but certainly no action, but hang it, this is my neighbourhood, just around the corner from me and I had some place I needed to be, people to meet and frankly Philip, you were in my way.
Here in New York film sets have a habit of sprouting from nowhere. Empty streets one night, the next morning a whole studio has established residence. Trailers full of electrical equipment, wardrobe and trailers for the stars. Like the best trailer parks in this country, these dressing room trailers come with an I.D. and if they don’t belong to Lucy or Desi, they belong to Romeo and Juliette.
Philip, I thought in that split second rush of blood to the head, I love your work! But of course I said nothing when what I really wanted to say to him was come up to my place. It’s just around the corner. I can put the kettle on, make you a sandwich, here is the remote control, let’s watch The View. Together! Just talk to me Philip in that wonderful, deep rich gravelly voice of yours. I am a good listener, really!
Nonchalance, where would we be without it?
The film shoot goes by the working title of A Late Quartet, and remember, you heard it here first!