Monday, January 24, 2005
Service: * * * *
Food: * * * 1/2
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *
It's a marathon day for me at Europa. First meeting Damon at noon. We haven't seen each other for ages. He's had the flu quite bad, and I've just been kinda busy. I suppose dating lots of women and trying to form relationships with all of them will do that.
"When are we gunna finish our script?" I say.
He's too busy looking at the pink g-string sticking out of the blue jeans two tables away. And he's looking cos I pointed it out to him.
"Well, I've started redrafting it," he says. "I figured it would be WAY better setting it in a normal city, not some strange little country town."
"Oh," I say. "Does this mean we lose 'Duiwelspoes'?" Duiwelspoes (Devil's Cat or Devil's Vagina, depending on how clean the translator's mind is) is a fictional South African hicksville town we set the first draft of our horror movie in.
"It just requires SOOOOOOOO much setting up and explaining just to make it plausible," he says.
"Cool, dude. I'm happy. Did the story survive at all?"
"Ya," he says, and he wobbles his hand, "sort of. I mean, it's all there, you know. But now that it's simplified, it just reads so much faster and easier." He looks at me. "We've got a commercially viable movie here, Roy."
One of the managers walks up to us while we're both staring at the pink panties again.
"Sorry to interrupt, guys," he says. "I was going to come and greet just now, but you guys were locked in intense discussions."
"I've been coming here for years," I say, "and I've never asked your name. I'm Roy." We shake hands.
"I'm Sav," he says. "Short for Saverio."
Damon names himself, shakes hands.
I say, "Saverio, how the hell to you cope with all this prime babeage?" I make a sweep of the room with my hands. The place is brimming with hot-hot-hot.
"Ay," he says, and he blushes. "After a while, you just get used to it. You stop yourself from looking, and then it's all okay."
Damon and I talk about the house he's just bought in Norwood. Bloody hell. Nice price. Nice HIGH price. Bloody actors. He bought the place using the bucks he got paid to be in a BBC miniseries shot in Richard's Bay. We talk about how I'm managing with all the babes I'm dating. "It's a bit weird," I say. "I'm loving all the sex." He smiles. "But I think I'm a bit of a recluse, actually." As if that's news to anyone.
He's ready to head home. "You staying here?" he asks.
"Yeah. Got a coffee date with this babe I met at Contractors."
"Aaaaaa!" he says, waving a warning finger at me. "Watch it! Actresses! I've warned you!!!"
"Nah," I say, "she's not an actress. She's an artist." Contractors is the talent agency who take care of my voice-over work. "Serious babeage," I say.
"Oh man," he says. "Sorry I can't stay and meet her."
"Hey," I say, "it's just coffee! We're not getting MARRIED or anything!"
"Yeah yeah yeah," he says, and leaves.
I'm working on goal setting, using this book I bought the other day. It's called MAP 4 LIFE, one of the worst book titles imaginable, but a very good tool nonetheless. It's forcing me to look at all areas of my life -- money, spiritual, physical, emotional, family. Eight areas all in all.
Last night I sent an email to Rich at a company called The Missing Link. They do presentations, and their company is one of the most awesome working environments I've encountered. I wanna work with these guys somehow. I came across them working on the tv series I just finished directing, and they rocked. Skateboards in the office. Legendary coffee. Killer work ethic. Rich emailed me back almost immediately saying, "When shall we meet?"
So I send Rich an sms now, seeing as I'm in goal-setting mode. I suggest that we meet tomorrow.
One of my aims this year is to start charging R50 000 for each intervention I do. And I want to limit my interventions to a maximum of a week's worth of work on my side. I don't want to be employed ever again. I don't want a boss. But I do want to make gigantic contributions to the world. And get paid for it.
Rich sends me a reply. He and Ant are both available tomorrow. Excellent. Done. I don't know if I'll be able to charge my dream figure with them, but I can certainly explore possibilities.
Claudia walks in. She's wearing a striped dress, terracotta, made out of slinky t-shirt material. Mouth hangs open.
I notice Saverio looking at her briefly, then steeling his resolve and looking away.
She's got a boyfriend, but she's not totallllly sure that he's the guy for her. But she's happy with him.
She's been reading my website quite avidly, and she's very curious to know about my polyamorous pursuits. "Aren't you scared of contracting some kind of sexually transmitted disease?" she asks.
"Yes," I say. "But it's strictly safe sex. Condoms are us."
"But condoms don't stop EVERYthing," she says.
"Yes, but most STDs have very clear symptoms, and it's often quite easy to tell if a girl has something."
"Ya, but you can't tell ALL the time," she says.
"Condoms will block most things," I say. "But the one thing that makes this a little different is that I'm not engaging in random sex with loads and loads of different women. The aim here is to build relationships with the women I'm dating."
"Three? Four? How many exactly?"
"Uh, let's see. Kathy. But she's going to Cape Town. Possibbbbbbly Helen, though I'm not sure, cos while we TALK about it, we're not really doing much about getting together. There's Alisha, and we're getting on beautifully. And Karen's my fuck buddy, but she's having a rough time at the moment, so we're not really fuck-buddying, just buddying. There's also Kristine, who's taking things one day at a time, and isn't keen on my being polyamorous, but is accepting it for now. So that's four. And Carla is a possibility, but we're not doing anything at all cos we might be working together soooon, and I don't have sex with work colleagues."
Shame. Poor me. Polyamorous, but not reallllllllllly doing very well at it.
Looking at Claudia's cleavage, I'm wishing she didn't have a boyfriend.
"Hmmm," she says. "I don't think I could have sex with a polyamorous guy. I would be too scared of catching something."
We talk about precautions and AIDS tests and window periods and condoms and being careful. But she's right. It's not all that easy to manage safety with so many people involved. After all, that maxim is accurate. Sleep with one person, and you sleep with every single one of their partners too.
I whip out my sketchbook, and draw her in ink. She's very yummy. I'd love to be polyamorous with her.
"Wow!" she says. "I LOVE this medium! What kind of a pen is this?"
I use a ruling pen, which looks like some kind of gynaecological device. It has a little caliper that can be adjusted, changing the width of the line. "It's a technical drawing pen," I explain. "But the way I use it, it behaves very much like a paintbrush."
I go to my car and grab a sketchpad. "Here," I say, "try it."
She's reluctant at first, not wanting to waste my ink or paper. But I dip the pen and spludge some ink on the page. She takes it, and is utterly delighted and gleeful at the line she gets. "I've been searching for something that'll give me a line like this! Thank you so much!!!!"
Is it too much to hope for a thank you kiss??? Yeah. S'pose so.
My phone rings. It's a production company that I've been in negotiations with for the past few weeks. Can I start tomorrow on a three-week gig, producing a fund-raising video and dvd for a well known educational tv program?
"Of course I can start tomorrow," I say. "But can it be at one o'clock? I've got a whole bunch of things I need to do in the morning."
She names a weekly fee, and I'm very happy with it. But I do feel the need to negotiate my fee up a bit. I've been burned once too many with accepting an offer that's turned out to be way too low. She says, "Hmmmmm. Not possible, Roy. I've given you the maximum the budget will allow."
So I say yes. Which means I'm gainfully employed as of tomorrow, which means my overdraft gets halved and my credit card starts breathing again. Yay!!!!
The day has turned into evening, and I've got to get to backgammon.
Claudia and I stand, and I think, fuck this, I don't care if she has a boyfriend, and I kiss her goodbye. Without tongue.