You know, although I’ve heard of it, I’ve never actually seen “My Dinner With Andre.” I just watched about 25 minutes, partly because I will do anything to procrastinate, and partly because it looked really interesting. I have to find some time to watch the rest, which shouldn’t be that difficult.
Manhattan is Manhattan. I gather that it’s always been rather noisy and crowded, for it is a city, and that is how cities are; some more so than others, but by and large, that’s what you buy into when you live in one. Although I am not crazy about the noise, I am also not like those folks who want it to be like the suburbs.
I read recently that Martin Scorcese and Mardik Martin wrote the script to “Mean Streets” while driving around Little Italy. They’d park and observe, jotting down little bits here and there. I don’t know how much truth there is to that; sounds like a bit of myth-making to me — but if true, that’s kind of cool. Then again, today, I’m not sure they’d be able to do that drive. Too much traffic and nowhere to park!
There is a writer’s space, I believe, somewhere around Union Square, which isn’t terribly far from where I live. I hear it’s pretty quiet there, but I’m too lazy to look into getting a room. The thought of showing up somewhere to write seems daunting to me. Unless it’s coming with a paycheck; in which case, I’ll be right over and I’ll even bring breakfast.
Paul Giamatti is a great actor. One of the best, and also one of my favorites. Jokes aside, if I could ever write anything good enough for him to say, that would be a dream come true.