Monday, September 18, 2006
DAY THIRTEEN: CHICAGO IV
Molly had to go downtown for an audition and conference call with the advertising agency for Second City's cruise ship shows (you didn't know they've gone so corporate, did you?). I've neglected to mention Molly has been in a series of commercials for Sonic, a fast food chain in the midwest, south, and southwest. She improvises them with this other guy, Brian. They play a snarky couple in sitting in their car, eating the different Sonic delicacies. We watched 20 of them last night and today I discovered parodies on YouTube. It's not around Chicago, so her fame is quiet here.
I've also neglected to mention Molly's married. Her husband, Rich, is away writing improv situations for corporations. Molly and Rich do an act about an aging couple who are old school entertainers, The Winstons.
After coffee from the i-have-no-time-for-you panini euro cafe on the corner, I noticed a pair of recently pruned trees in a front yard. Then I looked at the decrepit synagogue across from Molly's apartment. I spent the next two hours taking pictures of these things and the interior of Molly's apartment. No people, knock me over with a feather. Molly and Rich have a lot of things in piles. Molly had asked me to help organize their office, which seems to make her sick. But since Rich has been away, she knows he would be upset if I moved things around when he wasn't here.
When Molly returned, we took a long walk to a UPS store and talked about our parents and old schoolmates, including the premature death of a friend of ours this spring. The day was autumnal. We passed the first apartment in which my family lived. I insist on these visits to former homes which are nothing more than a minute-long eyebath. Sometimes when I can't sleep I walk myself through these homes and reconstruct my rooms. I don't have this hang-up about my own string of apartments.
We went to an Ethiopian restaurant and saw "The Black Dahlia," the new Brian De Palma film. The film noir-speak left us scrambling for plot-comprehension. The actors seem too young to be carrying a film this confusing.
Molly and I talked a lot about improv, the world in which she is deeply immersed. Talking with her reminds me a bit of conversations wth my brother. (Her mother was conviced Molly had a crush on him when we were kids.) It's not that we lack for conversation. She has a different style than I. Where I want to linger over topics, uncertain about anything, Molly marches through with sure thoughts, intent on exposition. Maybe it's a first born thing. It stretches me, I suppose, in a good way.
