Feet 6

(Feet 1 -- http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer/2006/11/30/feet_1)
(Feet 2 -- http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer/2006/12/09/feet_5)
(Feet 3 -- http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer/2006/12/11/feet_8)
(Feet 4 -- http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer/2006/12/30/feet_9)
(Feet 5 -- http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer/2007/02/09/feet_18)

Several days later, in Dallas, where we had flown -- he from New York, me from L.A. (he paid) -- to be extras in the assassination sequence of Oliver Stone's "JFK", my friend Seth Schultz bought me an identical pair of cheap canvas shoes -- a half-size larger, I think -- to replace the mobility-impinging foot vices that had been gripping me, and my world became new.

I danced with a bum in a faux-funky courtyard. I snuck up to the roof of a government building to shoot (with a camcorder) Stone's version of the killing in Dealey Plaza. (But the fact that you could still sneak up to a roof in that area . . . )

Seth and I sold some of my footage to the local news and we sat and watched the anchors at their news desk as they presented it. We had cocktails (or whatever) with a gentile girl who looked like Barbara Streisand and a black girl with impressively soft lips.

My life was goddamm montage.

I had found my shoe size. My feet would never get in the way of life's pleasures and accomplishments again.


But what of stench?

To Be Continued

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13 February, 2007 @ 19:47 GMT
http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/andrewjlederer