The Poet Laureate of South Jamaica

So, this past Monday I did some extra work on "Law&Order: SVU" as -- funny enough -- a member of the jury. This was a classic day of extra work: Waiting around in "Holding" for eight hours and then being called to set to finish off the day. The good part about this was we had characters (we were not just pedestrians), and were the only extras in the room. We had to react and "be moved" by a video of a woman dying -- a woman who was raped. We were given this direction as the DP and Director panned our 12 and focused in on a few faces (including yours truly).

"So, don't you think I should lean forward like this?" says Poet.

"No, no -- just stay still" says the 2nd AD.

After about two minutes, the 2nd comes back and instructs Poet to move forward -- he was right. It works well with the picture of the scene.

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"Poet" M. rolled into Holding a few minutes after I did. There was plenty of room for people to have a couple seats for themselves -- but for some reason, my seat and the three surrounding had attracted a foursome (including me) who decided to stay even though we awkwardly claimed the seats at different times -- thinking at that time that no one else was sitting next to us...

Of course, I cannot speak for Poet. He was 5'5" and very slight. He had grey hair. In his late 60s? He wore overalls. And the third thing he said to me (after asking me the name of the production company and production number) while running his fingers through his imaginary locks, tossing his head, was asking how his hair looked?

"Huh huh huh, that's what white guys do. You know what I'm talkin' about? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about."

I smiled and giggled, thinking he was a nice old man.

Little did I know he was a perverse, comic genius: A vibrant unicorn. Yes, that's right: Poet Moss is a unicorn.

He repeated his hair joke to me three times. And after the second, he partially excused it by saying he was only joking "You know that, don't you? Of course you do. If you don't, you have no business being here, am I right?" And the way he said it was not to impose or to bully. He was an innocent. He was truly making sure I was ok with it -- before he could proceed.

The first hour, he talked mostly with my caddy-corner neighbor-- a younger black man who was reading a book on marketing and the Internet. During this hour, Poet would catch my eye...or something he would say would make me laugh uncontrollably -- which is sayin' something because I get pretty well annoyed by the typical background actor who thinks himself a riot. He'd call me "Lady" at this point....and a couple hours later, this turned into "Baby".

Across from me was a man who was as square as they come. He engaged only me in conversation, asking about my engagement (I love wearing this ring....it prevents awkward conversations), telling me about his separation. He wore a smug expression and affected an accent that left me feeling uncomfortable in my pity. We talked about juicers; all the while, a cavalcade of documents come pouring out of Poet's bag. He carried with him typewritten copies of letters he's sent to important persons like Tiger Woods and Michael Bloomberg. Bloomberg to change the New York Slogan.....he even had a jingle to go with it. This jingle he would sing with a nitty-gritty voice, up-tempo. He would often sing it while we were rolling and were supposed to be quiet. Which would make me laugh, which he would then notice and latch onto. He would launch into a stutter sometimes, but instead of this weakening him, it played to his advantage. It was his creativity at work (did I mention he had a strong, sharp, and short inhalation - through his nose sometimes? It's a sign of his intelligence.) An energetic thing -- he couldn't get the thought out quickly enough.

People stared at him, shaking their head, thinking he was bat-* crazy. And there was I, taking pride in my renegade-ism. In supporting what might be a nuisance to someone else.

He handed me one of his letters to Tiger, saying I should hold onto it because "You never know, it may be worth money". The man across from me rolled his eyes.

Didja know? Poet Moss wrote the musical "CATS" -- only, in his version, the cats were a bunch of toddlers. There was Cry-Baby Sharlene and Bab Baby Bi-bo, and Cry-Baby Sharlene had "fly pampers".
He sang one or two of the songs, saying he was very protective of children.....

Let me re-emphasize that the man was not creepy. He was simply put: adorable.

We bonded over his many creative projects. He read sides with me for an upcoming audition. He stressed the importance of getting off-book (memorized). "You mind is your mind". And I left with a DVD of one of his films -- he told me to text him what I thought of it. He walked me to the subway and made me promise several times to call or text that I got home safely. And that he would pray for me as I was a young person getting married.

I let him know when I was home.

And the next day, I got a text: "I prayed to God to keep you BUSY. Good luck with script. Poet".

I can't wait to watch his film....I'll let you know how it is. In the meantime, maybe you can watch him in this. Ha!

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Contrasted with this vibrant unicorn of a man were two old fogies sitting behind Poet and me. Boring, 70ish year-old old men. Confusing the crew with the Krafty people. Just so....done. While I was marveling over Poet, the exchange between these two men went like this:

#1 "Yes, so the acting career is over. This is all that's left"

#2 "Yup. Nothin'"

#1 "And the women, too!"

#2 "Tell me about it. The only women I'm attracted to wouldn't look at me twice."

#1 "I'm only attracted to young women."

#2 "A woman I worked with the other day was flirting with me, she was older - you know. And I thought 'Sorry, honey!'"

#1 "Story of my life"

#2 "I was trying to talk with this beautiful 25-year old girl, but she wouldn't give me the light of day."

#1 "It's over....and death is around the corner, too. Have you been thinking about that these days?"

#2 "I know"

You think I'm joking, but I'm not. How miserable is that.


Ahhhh, Poet. We parted ways at the E train stop because he had to go buy Rod Stewart's album. He'd been singing it all day. And Rod was his favorite singer.

On another note, here's the "Omless" Pilot for those of you who haven't seen it.

Love to you!