I just had the most hilarious phone conversation.
I had a chat recently with a filmmaker friend who offered his services as a cameraman should I sell a documentary idea, so consequently I've been trawling for ideas. I put a post up on the expat forum this morning calling for interested parties, and got a phone call a few minutes ago.
"This is S", she said.
"Before I tell you anything about what I'm involved in, I need to know more about what you're doing and who it's for."
I explained my idea was in its formative stages and at this stage I'm just looking for stories relevant to my ideas.
She insisted on knowing more, divulging little more than what she was involved in is in the "fashion slash entertainment field."
"But, you know, it's very important that I'm in complete control over my image and the coverage this project gets."
"Okaaay," I said. "Let me assure you this is all off the record, it's just a preliminary chat to see if there's a story there, and whether it's going to be suitable for what I'm doing."
But she didn't seem to take it in. "I'm really not satisfied with the lack of information you're giving me," she said.
"I will give your number to my lifestyle coach, who is handling all publicity for me, and if she decides she likes you and what you're doing, she'll make me available."
I said thanks, but really I'm interested in you and what you're doing. There's nothing insidious about this, I'm just getting some information together.
Again she repeated that only after receiving clearance from her lifestyle coach would she speak to me further and give me any more information about her project.
At this point I was thinking, what the fuck? Who exactly is being interviewed here?
I tried to start talking about the casting process, but halfway through I started laughing, and said, I'm sorry S, but I'm not speaking to any friggin' lifestyle coach. If you're interested in this, give me a call and tell me more.
I don't know if she heard because her last words were "Tabitha will give you a caaaaa..."
I hung up.
Ranting, spewing forth some toxic sludge
If hell is the slums at Dharavi, then the road to hell most likely runs through Bandra on a Saturday.
Specifically, it's SV Road, which bisects the shopping strip Linking Road. I spent much of this afternoon stuck in traffic, mostly on SV Road, trying to do nothing more ambitious than check out a shop a friend told me about and then visit the vegetable market. I was in a rickshaw, which left me completely open to the acid fumes belching from trucks, 50-year old Ambassadors and other rickshaws for the better part of two hours. In the end I gave up. And henceforth, I shall no longer try to shop in Bandra on a Saturday. From now on, Saturdays will be for housework and YouTube.