3 Shows with 3 friends

Went to see Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Savion Glover and The Harlem Globetrotters this month. My wife and I saw them with 3 separate friends with whom we experienced three somnambulistic reactions. LBM at the Tilles Center started out great with their deep-toned syncopation -and then slowly, as the night progressed, managed to put us into a trance state. We, and the rest of the audience, were waiting for some of the Paul Simon collaborations but only one was sung -and all the other tunes were great only if you happened to want to meditate. Our friend Barbara fell asleep and hallucinated. Our African experience at the off-Broadway show, Drumstruck, was the exact opposite. Everyone in the audience got a drum and no one, but I mean NO ONE, got a chance to so much as blink. The activity was frenetic and energetic.

Savion Glover at the B. B. King Blues Club was inexhaustible. His tap-dancing banter with the jazz band on the stage was a remarkable feat (no pun intended) of musical communication. But even here, after a while (close to two hours), we started to feel the repetition of the rhythmic steps and began to wish that there were other elements to the show . The more I watched Savion, the more I compared him to Gregory Heinz... and the more I realized that his steps were "heavier" than Gregory's. Gregory's moves were so much "lighter" and effortless. Savion's steps were loud and "stomped out", pressed hard into the stage floor. Andrea, our friend, became bored. The customary applause was provided and we quietly left the place with the other 200 "tourists" and emptied out onto the welcome chill of 42nd Street. En route to the train, I stopped off at one of the other theaters and what appeared to be "mysterious behaviour" on my part to our friend Andrea and my wife, soon became a remarkable exhibition of faith. I had lost my hat in here, about 8 months ago, and decided to take a chance that it might have been found and remarkably stored for my eventual arrival. AND, it was! Now THAT was exciting.

My wife got 4 free tickets to see The Harlem Globetrotters at Nassau Colleseum -so we asked Arnie and Harriet to come with us to the extravaganza. These guys were good... even though all the basketball clowning was staged... the acrobatics were GREAT! Many cute interactions with the kids from the audience as well as one funny "kiss and tell" adult-moment. We particularly enjoyed the Hot Boys' acrobatic trampoline basket-stuffings. These three guys were unbeliveable in their precise coordination during the half-time show. Globie, the clown was filling in the gaps between periods as "it" pranced around the court for laughs. Yet here too, our friend, Arnie, was "sawing Zzzzzz's"!?! Oh well, maybe the spicy pizza after the show will get him going -one way or another.

... did someone say Winter doldrums?

FASHION SHOW at Bryant Park

SMILE! And she did -avec plaisir...

The invitation-only-tents went up as soon as the freebie-skating-rink was disassembled -and all this week, the center of NYC, Bryant Park, would concern itself with introducing the FALL fashions of 2006 (even though it was still early February). Since my Thursdays are involved with going through this area, I decided to do my paparazzo thing and click some pix of whomever I deemed to be "interesting".


Although my mother was a dressmaker / designer, I never got too involved, but tagged along with her as a kid and got to know a little about the glitzy industry. Descriptions of "EMPIRE" and "A-LINE" dresses with "satin and organza" still echo colorfully through my gray matter. Unfortunately, I'm quite ignorant about constructing clothes or recognizing faces of the fashion-world's who's who -other than the big names of Lagerfeld, Klein, Wang and Mizrahi. On numerous occasions I've walked across Fashion Avenue's embedded brass discs with commemorative engravings to the likes of the classic greats -and so I know their names (Rudi Gernreich, Coco Chanel, Donna Karan, Betsey Johnson, et al) but could never recognize them by face. Nonetheless, whenever I see a fashion show, I think of my mother and it brings pleasant childhood memories of her entourage of customers being fitted for evening gowns in their underwear (and sometimes without their underwear)!


I've only done modeling once... so far. It was for a NYU Tisch Photography theme: JADED BUSINESSMAN. The photog's idea had something to do with a young minotaur being very active in a sleezy bar, while I sat "bored and barely involved" in the center with a bearded aquaintance of mine as we nursed our drinks. It was interesting to see the photog-crew "jell the lights" with all sorts of magenta-type colors. I also got some beautiful photo copies out of it... and an entry into my resume.

And back in 1990, while tracking through the booksigning routes of celebs, Annie Leibovitz was promoting her 1970-1990 collection -which I promptly bought (love her stuff). And while standing on line for her to autograph it, I asked her to snap a picture of me with my handy-dandy-off-the-shelf-instamatic-camera. And SHE DID! She was a really good sport about it, saying, "Yeah -sure...gimme that camera... where's the shutter release...?!". I loved it. A real collector's item.

Not exactly runway work...

Harrison Ford and his FIREWALL

The Learning Annex provides monthly opportunities to approach the proximity of the famous and the near-famous (as Mel Brooks would say in the role of the 2000 year old man). One such occasion was tonight's NYC premiere (sort of) for Harrison Ford's new movie, FIREWALL. I paid my twenty bucks a few weeks ago to enter the halls of the 42nd Street AMC movie theater for the opportunity to witness this event, albeit shivering outside for 30 minutes in the newly arrived February chill. Finally, the ushers let us in and hastily took our computer-print-out ticket-sheets only to replace them with a "flag-decorated wristband". My usher's aim with connecting the sticky ends was off and I wound up with an unwanted "hair-removal treatment" from my wrist. Definitely not very good security... anyone could have made a copy of my printout and hustle through the lax check-in procedures. We were immediately directed to the 3rd floor where a "security guard" checked our persons for any "metal". From my point of view, the metal-detecting wand wasn't even powered on -there was no glow at the tip. Then it was onward, into theater no.6 and seating for all .. I got 3rd row. OMG... these were not stadium seats! I'd have to crane to see the movie screen and move my head from side-to-side in order to take in the action on the huge panavision screen. The waiting-for-the-movie-to-start ordeal was made pleasant by the 40-ish woman on my right, who, as it turned out, was readily conversational. She told me that she liked the entertainment but hated the city. She was getting ready to move to either Utah, Colorado or Nevada. She wanted to see mountains and trees, rather than concrete and asphalt... and whatever personal baggage that was causing her to leave NYC. Definitely a woman in flux!

The movie started; it was a techno-thriller and kept everyone interested to the end. Harrison Ford did what he does best: look vulnerable and get the crap beat out of him! Then the lights came on and Joel Siegel came in. He bantered back and forth with the audience and a few minutes later, the moment we all paid for had arrived: Harrison Ford (Indiana Jones, Han Solo...etc.) entered with a few "handlers" (read: bodyguards) and received a standing ovation. The format was that Joel would interview/prompt Harrison to tell us "stuff". But Harrison is not exactly an exciting speaker, he's very mellow and laid-back and talks slow with deliberation, so Joel had to keep the commentary popping while Harrison was popping pop-corn into his mouth. He was sporting a beard and explained that it was for his upcoming part in a Civil War-era movie wherein he plays the man who tracked down and caught John Wilkes Booth, the person who shot Abraham Lincoln. He talked about not being the first person to be selected for Indiana Jones (Tom Selik was, but had a contractual obligation that couldn't free him for the part). He mentioned how lousy he felt from the "local food" the day that the "Black Swordsman" scene was shot in the first Indiana Jones movie. It seems that he wanted to leave early to recuperate from the runs so he suggested to Steven Spielberg that Indiana should just shoot the giant with the fancy swordwork, thereby completing the shoot early -Steven replied that he was "just thinking the same thing..." and the poor "giant swordsman", who had been practicing his swordplay for weeks just for this scene (which was supposed to be a long one: sword against whip fight) had to "die" with one lazy draw of a gunshot from Indiana Jones!


I noticed that there was a lot of very carefull tip-toeing around the mention of "arabs" during his descriptions. When he spoke about his experiences in Petra, he made sure to mention the "fine arab hospitality... from Queen Noor". And when he had to speak about Marion's (Karen Allen's role) kidnapping, Harrison gingerly described it as the "actors who were...(searching for the right PC expression) dressed up in arab clothes"... as though he was afraid that some kind of "fatwa" was going to befall him if he actually said "arab" without some kind of a "complementary" follow up or dared to put them in a negative light. To me, this "politically correct" baloney attitude that seems to prevail throughout most of Hollywood, is nothing more than a compromise of free speech. It's the very thing that the movie, "Good Night and Good Luck" tries to make clear. It's so ironic that Hollywood makes a very important moralistic movie about the 50's McCarthyism, like GNGL -and yet remains trapped in it's own muck of modern-day PC. Eventually it will pervade their creativity and make them into a cookie-cutter movie-factory producing the "same old, same old". Too bad. I've always thought that actors were much more ballsy.

Otherwise, I liked what Harrison had to say. He liked acting, "It's the only thing that still keeps me engaged..." . One can't help but think if Calista Flockhart has anything to do with that "engagement stuff". His greatest lament was the "loss of anonimity"... "The trouble is that I 'look like' Harrison Ford!". It's true -one would easily recognize him anywhere. He also mentioned that he is planing to "transition" into "secondary roles". This drew a lot of "disappointment sounds" from the audience. But it seems that he's acknowledging the fact that his age, and perhaps his acting abilities, are fading him into the background. He did cheer us up by saying that "...there is another Indiana Jones movie in the works with Steven". Only the paperwork needs to be worked out!? One can only hope (given his propensity for the runs).

It was time -and the conversation between him and Siegel came to an end. We were hoping there would be a Q & A between Harrison and us... but alas (and "a lack"), that was not to be. He left the applauding audience with his "handlers" and we left the theater feeling as though we were... still behind a firewall.

Poooof! I'm an MTV STUNT DRIVER

I got a bit lost again on my way to the West Broadway randez vous with the music video crew. Walked upstairs to the director's apartment... they were just starting to get "organized" (read: come to) and the whole place was full of cigarette smoke. Apparently, they didn't get to crash until 4 in the morning! I told the director, Will, that I would go and get breakfast while they got their stuff together. He was glad I made the gesture, took an envelope, wrote my name on it, gave it to me and mentioned that I should collect and give him all of my receipts for reimbursement. Sounded pretty fair to me. So I left and went down the block to the original audition cafe, The Cupping Room. This time I would be a paying patron and not just someone passing through. Had my cup of tea and pastry, read my paper, checked out the other patrons... and basically killed 45 minutes at a leisurely pace. Very mellow. Headed back to their building, and as I started to open the apartment house door, Will and Justin, another member of the crew was just coming out. His van was parked in front and as he inspected the window there was complete and utter amazement at the fact that he did not get a ticket for his overnight parking fete in a restricted zone. He let me sit in the van and I offered to watch it for him while the rest of the crew went back and forth for packing their equipment. As they trickled down with various sizes of camera boxes, I got to meet them one-by-one. Each seemed to have a different accent. Interesting...in an exotic sort of way. Everyone crammed in -but this time I avoided the contortionist routine by sitting in the front seat early. After cursing about not having any cigarettes, Will stormed out of the van and upon return, tore-ass out across the Williamsburg Bridge enroute to our DUMBO location. Unfortunately, he got lost and we pulled over to a drunk dressed in fatigues to ask for directions... Whoa! The guy leaned into my window with a breath that could have turned into a flame-thrower had anyone lit their cigarettes... he could barely muster a few incoherent blabberings of "turn at the corner and then turn back and...[a long "where's-my-brain" pause]...and then turnaround" -complete silence for another minute as we all anticipated him to just plop on the ground while his alpha-rhythms baselined. Oh well, guess we'll just follow that sign over there that says "Brooklyn Bridge". That worked out swimmingly well and we found our way to the spectacular site. We were literally under the Brooklyn Bridge with a terrific view of downtown NYC in the background. Excellent location scouting! It was cold near the East River waters and we all found ourselves bundling up or shivering, like the leading man, Jerome, was doing. Jerome was a French dude, and strangely enough, resembled a young Billy Baldwin (or maybe I just had Billy Baldwin on my brain from the day before). I believe most of the crew was French and after demonstrating my poor high school foreign language capabilities, they had no problems with speaking French in front of me. They figured I didn't understand a word of it! This attitude turned out to be somewhat overconfident on their part later on. The plan was for me to drive down the cobblestoned street while Jerome cuts me off riding his bike -and I stop short while cursing the hell out of him. Hence, the "ANGRY DRIVER" role. All this was to be set to music later on by a somewhat wellknown band for whom this video-story was being created in hopes of publicising their newest album. Lucky for Jerome that I was a NYC taxi cab driver during my college years... the sublime perfection of which, has never left me. The camera would be attached at numerous precarious locations on the vehicle each time the French DP wanted to get a different angle of my cursing cruise down the deserted street. It was fun but dangerous. One of the camera guys sitting next to me bumped his head on the camera as I was directed to stop short. He told me that worse things have happened to him: Once he fell out of a tree with a camera!!! I suppose only an "injured" guy would continue to do this kind of crazy work. After a dozzen or so takes, the DP and the director were satisfied with the accumulated results and I was told that "We're done!". I gave Will my envelope with the receipts and asked for the reimbursement. A short conversation in French took place between him and the DP. I understood enough to realize that Will was willing to pay me $20 but the DP had convinced him not to pay me just now... that "Eet would be better like zis!" I realized that although Will was the director, apparently he wasn't the man in charge... the French DP had the Svengali influence. Will took me aside and said that he would send me the money later when he got my name and address squared away. Since I was having so much fun on the set, I kind of took it in stride and allowed it to pass. After all, they haven't given me a "release agreement" to sign yet. Apparently they forgot -and that would be my "ace in the hole" later on! They arranged for me to get a ride back to Manhattan from Olivia, the friendly PA who ran their errands. Her constant cell-phone conversations and blackberry scrollings in the middle of NYC's rainy streets made the SUV ride a bit harrowing -especially when she almost ran through a red light and into oncoming traffic! I played my "angry driver" role well for the video, now I wondered if I would become an "angry passanger" before we reached Penn Station. Naaaaaaah... I was too sleepy.

Epilogue: They never did pay me. But a year later I ran into Jerome (the bicycle rider) near MSG and he mentioned YouTube as a possible source for seeing a clip of the short.

Adrift in Manhattan with a bearded Billy Baldwin and a pretty Heather Graham

"ONE/NINE" -that was just the "working title". Originally it was supposed to be the symbol of the subway line that ran the number 1 and the number 9 trains. But since 9/11, the number 9 has been eliminated. Lots of memories for me here since I was riding on those trains the day the World Trade Center was destroyed by arab terrorists. Had I arrived a few minutes earlier at my then-workplace in the World Financial Center, I could have been doused by burning jet fuel or various types of debris or... jumpers. My old stop was Cortland Street and each morning I walked through the WTC, out through Tobin Plaza and over the North Bridge to the palm-treed atrium of the WFC... (snap out of it man -that was then; this is NOW!)

Anyway, who knows what the final title of this full-length independent production will be? The interesting part was getting to see some big-name actors, and exchanging stories with some interesting extras. I arrived early at the location on West 67th Street, asked for "Zeke" and was told to go to the 3rd floor holding-area. Huffing up the steps, I was told to go to the 1st floor holding-area... once there, I was told to go to the lobby holding-area -Zeke was still not identified.
The holding-area was a conference room that had a small piece cordoned off for the safe sequestering of the two principal stars. I took off my coat and sat down in front of the "demilitarized zone". Soon others began to arrive and settle in, one tall bearded person was approaching the "safety zone" and I recognized him immediately as Billy Baldwin -instinctively I said "Hi", which was returned in a friendly, albeit non-plussed manner. Whoops... I realized that I had just violated the "non-intervention rule" -extras are not supposed to speak to the principals unless they speak to you first. Luckily, my friend Tom (from the earlier Guys and Dolls gig) just showed up and we began to converse like old friends. Hence, the feint of my non-chalant segue would prevent any undue attention to my innocuos "brash behavior" of my previous moment's "Billy-encounter". Oh the suppressed angst that we extras have to incur!

I was chosen to be a lonely popcorn-eating matron in a "movie theater" scene. Lots of activity from the DP, John, and the spanish-accented director, Alfredo De Villa. The other extras were strategically seated and a couple of arguments between John and Alfredo broke out about "losing the location for the afternoon" and "lighting problems" and f#@%! this and f#@%! that... I just sat there as Selena, a production assistant whom I knew from previous shoots, brought me a leaking cup of soda as part of my props. It was soon replaced but my pants were rather damp! Then all of a sudden, "Team Two", a couple who sat a few rows in front of me would now be replaced by "Team-One".

Billy Baldwin and Heather Graham walked in and took the place of the original seat-fillers. I was pleasantly surprised by Heather's pretty looks and slim build. They quickly sat down... had their faces powdered and light measurements taken. Was the drama about to start? Not really.
All we had to do was to make believe that we were watching some old-time movie while the two stars were acting "uninterested" in each other. Apparently this was not working out as the director planned because he kept coming over to Billy and Heather and whispered something "private" to each one separately!? Strange. But I suppose he gave them their "motivation" for showing "disinterest"! As the camera-on-tracks panned across the audience, my face was four rows behind and right in-between the two majors. If the editing doesn't cut this scene out, and the producers get sufficient backing for distribution of the finished film -I just might be seen!

(Epilogue: The scene was left in... I'm the blur in the middle between Billy Baldwin and Heather Graham. But interestingly enough, they zoomed in on me since I was at the same visual level as Heather's young stalker nearby.)
The next setting was to be in a school a few blocks away. The crew packed up everything in a very short time along with the extras and literally packed us, like sardines, into an awaiting van. In order to fit into my seat, I had to crunch myself up so that my knee was up by my chin. As I looked out the window, Heather Graham was being escorted to her own transportation. My neck couldn't crane far enough to see what that was, but I bet she didn't have to have to contort herself to fit in (although if she had to, she probably could... her being a practicioner of yoga).

The holding area in the school was the lunchroom. We would be waiting there for a few hours while the crew set up their movie gear on the fourth floor. In the process of sharing lunch tables, more friendships were forged and numerous tales told. One woman was from Tobago/Trinidad and she provided some fascinating anecdotes about her link to this island and that of Africa. Another woman was a storywriter and producer in her own right who recently put on a successful off-Broadway play. A white-haired middle-aged man recounted his success story with beating stomach cancer and provided inspiration for us with his enthusiastic attitude about how he "looked at life completely differently now... since the operation". His big dream was to be in the Sopranos, so I provided him with the appropriate email for submitting: sopranosextras@gmail.com.

At 5:PM "lunch" arrived. Apparently I got on the wrong food-line because I was politely told that the extras are not allowed to eat from the multi-choice-meal area. Instead, I was directed to the table with fourteen boxes of multi-choice pizzas! This 2nd-class segregation is the only thing that bothers me in this industry. But then again, the crew and the principal actors do work much harder than the extras -and so, I suppose I can justify it in my mind that they do deserve the 1st-class treatment.

(Epilogue: This scene is toward the end -and I'm right up there with Heather.)

The second scene of the day brought me closer to the action. It took place in a classroom where we acted like proud parents of our poetry-reading teenage kids. We needed to clap for a minute or so! During our clapping, Heather's role would come into the room and observe while Billy's role, as the teacher, would show approval of the poetry readers -all the while making some eye-contact with each other's character. This scene took about two hours to complete, but the two stars would be going closely past us on a regular basis after each take. Both were rather quiet at each passings-by. For some reason, during breaks, Billy would go into one of the other classrooms and constantly be on his cell phone -if he were smart, he'd be lining up the next gig (but I suspect that he was checking in with his wife, Chyna Phillips). It's a win-win either way!

We wrapped after 11:PM, signed our wavers and collected our $50-bill. Most of us were only told that the story revolved around three separate love stories which somehow intertwined as the movie came to a close. Personally, I didn't see any chemistry between the two majors and the story sounded wishy-washy. But then, I wasn't privy to the "big-picture". If it ever came out, I knew I would still want to see it... and of course tell all my friends about it. Got home after 1:00 AM. My MTV weekend-gig would prompt me to rise at 6:AM. Yaaaaaaawn.

Epilogue: The movie was screened at Sundance in 2007 under the title: Adrift in Manhattan. It's not in any of the mainstream movie theaters as of this writing (8/2007), so my best guess is that it will be an indi release.

SoHo - so what?

A cast call at the Cupping Room Café on SoHo's West Broadway provided the perfect follow up to my last night's "adventures with tea-reading in libraryland". I was "white-rabbit late" for the audition because I confusingly went to the "correct" address on on the "incorrect" Broadway… but the director, Will , didn't mind. He recognized me from my headshot as I walked up to him and he introduced me to his assistant. Stephanie. She shook hands with me and I shook it right back (I'm not one to miss out on the "tangible benefits" of western civilization).

The director plied me with compliments in his somekind-of-an-English/French accent, about me having the perfect looks for the part of the "ANGRY DRIVER"… and then Stephanie suddenly piped up, "Can you just muss-up your hair and can you just muss-up your eyebrows… yeah like that… real fuzzy!".
"Perfect!" says the director. Then he showed me the MTV-type of script and described my part as being that of a driver who almost runs down a bicycler in Brooklyn's DUMBO district… and when the cyclist skittles out of the way, I should get out of the car and shout angry explitives… and "Can you be available for the next four days?". Sure… I said. But why do I need to be available for " 4 DAYS" when my part is so short? Oh no no no… misunderstanding… I'll only be needed for ONE DAY… and after a small conference with the DP, even the day was nailed down! "And only during daylight."

Good by me. One more thing… can he reimburse me for the train trip? Well we're all working without pay here… but yes reimbursement and "meals" will be provided. EXCELLENT (I'm starting to bargain... knowing fully well that it's all baloney)! The DP then took me over to the wall and took some photos of my "angry" puss. Then the director bade me good bye… and that he's "99% certain" that I would get the part… but just to make certain -I would be contacted by the DP later today (the baloney slices were getting thin).

A day later the call DID come.
I got the part!

Another interesting adventure resulted from my latest excursion in this neighborhood. While walking through SoHo, I found a "yellow notice" posted on a tree, saying that filming was going on for "PERFECT STRANGER" -and the contact number was: 212-563-7053. Upon the follow up, I found out that Sylvia Fay(e) was the casting director. Unfortunately, her website, InstantCast.com was charging money to join. Yet another lead gone awry. Or perhaps, this is the trip that the tea-leaf-reader was talking about last night… not working out! But NO! I shared this info with Tom, my new best actor friend from the Guys and Dolls gig -who also wasn't able to get a fix on Sylvia Fay but recommended that I get in touch with the Scott Powers casting agency. They had somekind of a movie job available. I quickly acted on Tom's tip and emailed my stuff to them. A few hours later I was called back and given a $50-gig that was being shot the following day at 35 West 67th Street, entitled "1/9" with Billy Baldwin and Heather Graham! Life is good.

A performance artist with tea leaves

`But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
`Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
`How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
`You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'

<>

Went to my local library to see a demonstration about serving tea. An elderly English woman was giving a spot of history about its origins. It seems that many thousands of years ago, a Chinese emperor realized that boiling water reduced sicknesses and so he would frequently command that his drinking water be scalded. One day... lo and behold... some of the leaves from the branches that were stoking the fire, had flown into the boiling pot and... VOI LA... the leaves gave up their flavoring contents to the hot water, which the Chinese emperor found to be pleasant upon tasting. Henceforth, there would be tea!

This ceremony was now being performed by the elderly matron-of-tasseography who also entertained us with numerous anecdotes from different cultures relating to the various rituals surrounding the drinking of tea. One of these rituals was her avocation, that being the "reading of tea leaves". Of course, after completing our repast with the loose tea, we lined up and had each of our fortunes told. It always amuses me to observe the curiosities of people to want to know "how things will turn out"... when in fact, things turn out the same -whether you know about them beforehand, or not. I must confess here that I am an ardent fan of Ouspenski and his writings about the inevitable fortunes of his imago, Ivan Osikin. But I digress...


I heard the wise tea-woman speak to my friend about her latest and upcoming fortunes -and I observed that she was right on with her assessment of symbols formed on the sides of the teacup. So I stuck my thrice-swished and turned-up-side-down tealeaves in my cup over to the fortune telling tea lady for a personal scrutiny of my so-called destiny. First off, she asked me if I had been playing an instrument lately (which I had) -and she told me to "stick with it" because it would bring big success (I'd better polish up my triangle). Then she asked if I ski. When I demured, she switched to "someone close to me" who skiis or snowboards -and that they should be careful... (Guess I'd better use more super glue on my pet's paws.) Also, a long trip that I was planning would not work out because of lack of funds at this time (oh well, I guess I'll put off my trip to Antarctica... for now). But the last item was the best. According to her, I enjoy giving love and I will get back a lot of it! Now that's what I call good fortune... and a wonderful performance!!!

We gulped down the rest of our teas and finished our "sweeties"... and left the hall of knowledge for the safety of our respective ignorances. Ahhhhhhh... BLISS.