a television pilot, my almost lover, and lunch at a french bistro

i've always said that mt. vernon is the closest thing baltimore has to new york. in fact, it's often new york's stunt double in films. as i was walking home from some light marketing this morning, i saw a few catering trucks, but didn't think much of it. it wasn't long ago that The Wire crew was in residence, so I took it all for granted. i reasoned that it might well be for some neighborhood to do. whatever.

i've been looking forward to seeing V all week and introducing her the quaint Marie Louise bistro where i find myself more and more these days (all efforts to think like a poor person aside). as we were walking there, i saw the back of his head.

he was far enough away that i had to trot--well, run--to catch up with him, but close enough that in two seconds i was standing in front of him. he was with a friend, a guy i met, briefly, a couple of years ago at a happy hour (the happy hour where my almost lover let me know that we were done, in so many words). after brief hellos there was the awkward standing around on a streetcorner small talk that i like to avoid if at all possible. i tried to hurry the moment along without being too brusque (something of which i am often guilty).

clearly, something in me still wants something from him, but the actuality of the situation is that we have nothing to actually communicate to each other. editing his book gave us a means and a reason for communication, but i can't get past meeting him two years ago, and the subsequent realization (on his part) that it just couldn't happen. it makes me reticent when i actually see him.

it wasn't terrible, the brief run-in. in fact, it was validating in a way. V had no proof that he existed outside my stories, and suddenly, as is always the case, there he was. he always appears out of nowhere, right in my path. she indicated she understood what all the fuss was about.

V and i went on from the corner of Charles and Read to Marie Louise and i tried to explain to her what it is i really want to do now that i am moorless and nothing is really panning out.

on the walk back to her car and my apartment, we noted the presence of a long line of taxis--all marked NYC cab co and scads of crew members and folks with clipboards and headsets. looks like we're standing in again.

when we asked what was being filmed, a dreaded guy in all black said simply "television pilot."