liveblogging without upper case (coz it's the bowery)

i guess i could say i was liveblogging from the bowery hotel where a red-hot-and-happening dinner is going on downstairs for our movie. j is miserable about the room (the w is bigger and he gets points there) and so we're here living the life in the big city of nuevo yorke, watching 'one flew over the cuckoo's nest' - it's the scene where jack nicholson is teaching the Chief how to dunk a ball in a net. he has now complained that the room is too small and that the other rooms are bound to be bigger than ours ("g has a suite!" he says, "g has his wife and two children coming in" i say). i think the room is charming - painted white brick walls and pretty sheets with a coral-colored border, and a large terracotta horse blanket across the bottom of the bed with 'the bowery' in elegant script. the ceiling fan alarmed him enormously; "you mean this room has no f-ing airconditioning" he says. "no" i say, deliberately, "i actually went online before we arrived - it's a design feature, part of the charm." he humphs and hars and stomps around looking for an air conditioner, and once satisfied that he will not fry in this indian heat, finds his next thing to complain about. "you can't call this a goddamn closet" he says, "and no f-ing hangers." i fish out three hangers and place them on the bed for him to stumble upon, but he's already sitting in a chair fretting over his office email. never have i been more tempted to say "let's go out and get drunk, darling" but i don't. but i shall, in a few minutes, when it seems spontaneous :-)

one of the other producers on our film ("from within" directed by phedon papamichael, playing friday night at 9pm at the tribeca film festival - ha ha - you can take the girl out of publicity but you can't take the publicist out of the girl), adrian, is a lovely scots chap with a penchant for very pretty young girls. his gf is enormously lovely and appeared in tight skinny jeans, impossibly high heels, and a shimmery, loose, sequined shirt. she looks adorable. she kisses us both, smells lovely, has a huge, warm smile. "god, i feel old" i say to j later. "she's 10; of course you feel old" he says.