thoughts and kisses

I think about things too much. I conjure different scenarios both good and bad. It happens mostly when I am trying to sleep, but it can hit anywhere at anytime.

Sometimes I think...

am I good enough?

am I smart enough?

do people like me?

Sometimes I allow myself to secretly answer,

“no,

i'm not good enough.

i’m not smart enough.

no-one likes me.”

I accept the reality. I accept the doom. I accept the horrible fate. I allow it to swallow me up.

Sometimes I feel the spark that re-ignites the fire and burns the questions away.

I think about sex a lot.

I think about love a lot.

And verse visa.

I always knew when a relationship was over. The kisses became teeth clonking, nose banging realities.

I think about my Beautiful Bride a lot.

I accept that she will carry me when I need to be carried.

I will support her in the way she needs.

I will hear her.

I think that’s the best thing a boy can ever do for a girl. HEAR her.

I love her.

I love the everlasting quality of our kisses. Our kisses are magic. Her skin is my skin, my skin is her skin and our skin and our boy and our family and our dreams and our reality and our LIFE together.

It’s good to be back home.

10 Poo Poo

I’m in New York City. I’m filming a movie. I’m living the dream. I miss my Bride and Boy.

I call home at 10 every morning and night. It’s seven their time. The Boy is actually eager to get on the phone with me. That’s a first for him. He grabs the phone from BB and proudly exclaims, “I go poo poo Daddy!”

I have been having conversations on set with the smartest and most talented people I have ever met. Natalie Portman told me how she loves Conan O’Brien and how funny he is. Vincent Cassel has described the corruption in Italian politics. Mila Kunis has sung the praises of Skyping. The Director Darren Aronofsky recommended a Museum that explores cosmology throughout the ages. The make up artist (so not to be completely name dropping) has related her amazing stories of Greece in the ‘70s.

I would rather discuss poo poo with Boy. “Daddy can’t go poo poo when he is away from home.” I confided. This was way too much information even for him. There was an awkward pause and then suddenly he continued, “I go big poo poo Daddy! Two poo poos!” Yes, he actually counts his output. I would have it no other way. Besides he’s learning to count.

Last night at 10, after being away for 10 days, he finally said, “Please come home Daddy.” My heart sank and soared all at once. “No more Movie.” He added for good measure. I tried to steer the conversation back to bowel movements but as usual he is too smart for me.

It’s all very good news. I was supposed to work six days on a big feature film. Now that I am here they seem to like me and keep giving me more days and more lines. It may not be the BIG break I’ve been waiting for but it is a sizeable break. A fracture.

Still, when I close my eyes in between takes all I see is my family. The boy is going poo poo on the potty and the BB and I are doing the “poo poo on the potty” song and dance and stealing smooches.

Up in the Air : remix

Guess who has replaced George Clooney in his latest flick?

Go on, you'll never guess.

Check out the trailer below.

PEE YEW TO THE NICU

The World keeps going no matter what happens. That’s the biggest problem I have with reality.

Why couldn’t things have slowed down during the Holidays? I tried to squeeze everyone extra hard and extra long thinking I could thereby press the breaks and rip a hole through time. Worse even I think someone pressed the fast forward button down. The knock knock jokes at the dinner table, the bad singing of twelve days, the hide and seek, pigs in a blanket and the gifts are all a blur. The sister, brother-in-law, nephew, niece, nephew, niece, dad, mom, wife and son are all together with the ghosts of other Christmas past. Why didn’t we have the power to slow it all down?

Pee yew

I recently got a part in a movie. As soon as the news sunk in, so did the stink emanating from the garbage in the kitchen. I don’t think it’s right that I had to take out the garbage at that particular moment. I tried to ignore it but its stink was screaming at my olfactory glands. Can’t I declare it a garbage free day? Can’t I celebrate me and sing my song that I make up as I go along and everyone dances to it because they get me and think I’m the bees knees.

RIP

When I eulogized my Grandmother all those years ago I had a huge pile of dirty laundry at home waiting to kick me while I was down. The only clean black bit of clothing to mourn in was my tank top. I just couldn’t mourn my dear beloved Grandmother in a wife beater. I should have been able to declare it an “all laundry is clean day”. The sky should have rained down Downey or Tide or even the cheap Target Brand. Birds should have flown down some dryer sheets and hung around to fold. It was Grandma after all. It was the very least that could have happened!

Ten minutes after my first love broke my heart a buddy told me I had bad breadth and suggested I take a mint. Couldn’t some grand scheme have been in place to spare me the embarrassment on the day of the heartbreak? I suddenly understood the reason she winced when I exhaled “Why?” Plus, I still had classes that day. Why doesn’t High School set aside days for heartbreak? I’m not asking for a lot here.

Intensive Care

When Boy was first born he spent nine days in intensive care. He had Respiratory Distress (trouble breathing). On day three of this ordeal I had a callback for a “Fruit of The Loom” commercial. Beautiful Bride and I decided of course I should go to the callback. I need to make a living after all. It also happened to be five minutes away from the hospital. As I was about to leave the NICU the Doctors and Nurses rushed around the Boy in an emergency formation. There was blood and a controlled sense of panic in the room. After five minutes of torture they explained to me that they had to put a tube down his throat to help him breath. He was stabilized but I was a mess. There was nothing I could do though and BB once again encouraged me to go to my callback. Why was the World still turning? Why couldn’t I step outside of this moment or split myself in two?

At the callback they paired me up with a 6-year-old boy. They asked me to pretend to teach him as my son how to throw a baseball for the first time. Then they asked me to teach him how to fish. I realized at some point that I still had my hospital bracelet on. I almost started to cry my heart out right there in the room, but somehow I got through it. I would still be angry today if didn’t get that job. I did get it though. The Boy got stronger and healthier. That day was his lowest point. I shot the commercial on the day he was brought home from the hospital. It now seems like a speck on the radar.

Here’s a link to that very commercial on youtube. If you are interested in seeing it, I am the guy with the little boy on the screen in the background.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjGruchlKGw

Being led by Mr. Soft Pants.

I no longer have to pay attention when I’m driving. Boy tells me to stop when the light is red. My mind is then free to wander and ponder the cloud formations until the Boy shrieks with impatience at the first glimpse of green. I turn when he says’ “turn Daddy” or go this way when he says’ “this way Daddy”. I never actually get where I’m going anymore but I don’t have to think either and that’s a better reward. It’s also nice to see how much he is becoming like his Mommy (my Beautiful Bride) with all his backseat driving.

The boy won’t wear any pants but sweat pants. He calls them soft pants. We used to only have two pairs and one of them was too short. It was WAR on the days that they were in the wash. The jeans, khakis and cargos (aka hard pants) simply will not do. The good news is he is much more independent with the potty when he wears the soft pants. I went to Old Navy and got him eight pairs with pockets. He is Mr. Softpotty Casual now.

It’s all O.K.

I picked Boy up the other day and his hard pants were wet. I said, “Did you wet your pants?” He said, “YEAH! It’s OK Daddy!”

Boy knows that the remote control is verboten. One morning I found the remote in twenty pieces all over the living room floor. I gave the Boy a hard stare, “Did you break Daddy’s remote?” I queried. “YEAH! It’s OK Daddy!” he tossed off.

I am wing man.

We go to the Airport and watch the planes take off and land. We applaud each successful take off and guide each landing with a chant of “steady, steady, steady” until it touches the ground.

The other day there was a little girl that was the same age as the Boy. She had a toy airplane and was waving it around to mimic the movements of the real ones. She was hanging her arms over the fence that I never let the Boy hang on. When he noticed her it was like an electric shock over took him. He instantly grabbed my hand and dragged me to within five feet of her. He planted me off to the side, pulled his soft pants up (no kidding) and sauntered over to her. When he got close to her he made sure he got a little too close so that she couldn’t help but notice him. He stuck his neck out in her space, smiled and said “I a big boy!” The poor little girl was overwhelmed and ran to her Daddy. Boy looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders “It’s OK Daddy!”

And me too.

When we decorated our Christmas tree, BB and I pointed out all the ornaments that meant something to us. “This is from the first Christmas Mommy and Daddy were Married” BB glowed. “And me too.” Boy glowed back. “This was before you, when it was just Daddy and I.” “And me too.” “Just Daddy and Mommy!” “Daddy, Mommy and me too.”

I drove with Boy past our old apartment and stopped to take in all the old memories as they came flooding back. “This is where Mommy and Daddy lived before you were born. We used to swim in that pool and laugh at the crazy lady who lived across from us. I climbed up that tree when I was locked out once and Mommy almost killed me with a baseball bat.” I explained. “And me too.” He explained further. “This was before you were born”, I taught him. “Yeah. Before Mommy, Daddy and me were born”, he lectured me.

I’ve since inserted the Boy into all my memories. Now there truly never was a time without him. He was around when I was in kindergarten and was crushing on Rose. He told me to kick Sr Phyllis on her heiny. He held my hand when Grandma died and said "it's o.k. Daddy." He gave me the courage to leave my job as a bartender in New York City and take a chance and move to Los Angeles. He showed me my dreams were possible. He stood with me on my Wedding Day and we smiled as the most beautiful girl in the world said "I Do." He winked at me when he was born. Things I'll never forget

potty talk

un film de spodaddy

photobooth II

Un film de SPODADDY