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Did you talk to Miri? Can we give Hirsh her info?
Love you,
L
Sent on the TELUS Mobility network with BlackBerry
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I let her know I am not who she thinks I am:
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Wrong Jordan Roth...Sorry.
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Wrong Jordan Roth...Sorry.
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Confused, she answers:
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What do you mean?
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Oh I'm sorry. I understand. Your response made sense in the context of my question
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What do you mean?
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Oh I'm sorry. I understand. Your response made sense in the context of my question
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Confused and ready to have fun with this, I answer:
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I must confess: I am in disbelief that my statement makes any sense in the context of your question. I think my statement makes sense only out of any context other than response to an unfamiliar email naming actors in a play which I neither wrote, nor directed, nor produced, nor have ever seeen. I am Jordan Roth, probably not the Jordan Roth to which your love is sent, but a Jordan Roth nonetheless. I am a Jordan Roth who knows that you must live in Canada, or at least have at one point lived in my Northern Sisterland.
Only to be nosy, I suggest that Hirsh should totally get Miri's info. I think that they would be well matched.
In my story, Hirsh is the son of a butcher, who went off to New York to find out if he could make it there. He did. He thrived. Hirsh saved his money, ate Ramen, was humble. He bought a Bookstore; his eyes, through his unintentionally hip glasses, somehow manage to focus the lighting within the store outwards. He knows his craft, he is a shepherd.
Miri emigrated, or rather her parents did, from Georgia in the late seventies. Her parents gave away their entire savings to get out from behind the Iron Curtain. They viewed it as a down payment on a life of promise for their special daughter. Defectiors have their enemies though. They changed their last names when they reached the US. Through her new middle name, Miri became the only holder of that once respected and honored name back home; A home she would only know in stories. Miri was the bridge. She straddled between her own reality and a fantasy land held warm in her parents hearts. She resented their attention. She turned inward. Her beauty enraged her.
Her beauty enraged him.
She looked out of the photograph unlike she ever looked out of her own mystically blue eyes. He burned with an uncontrollable heat, an unchecked intensity that put him at unease. This was the first time he had ever been in love. He does not know it. The only thing left unseen is the rest of their lives.
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I must confess: I am in disbelief that my statement makes any sense in the context of your question. I think my statement makes sense only out of any context other than response to an unfamiliar email naming actors in a play which I neither wrote, nor directed, nor produced, nor have ever seeen. I am Jordan Roth, probably not the Jordan Roth to which your love is sent, but a Jordan Roth nonetheless. I am a Jordan Roth who knows that you must live in Canada, or at least have at one point lived in my Northern Sisterland.
Only to be nosy, I suggest that Hirsh should totally get Miri's info. I think that they would be well matched.
In my story, Hirsh is the son of a butcher, who went off to New York to find out if he could make it there. He did. He thrived. Hirsh saved his money, ate Ramen, was humble. He bought a Bookstore; his eyes, through his unintentionally hip glasses, somehow manage to focus the lighting within the store outwards. He knows his craft, he is a shepherd.
Miri emigrated, or rather her parents did, from Georgia in the late seventies. Her parents gave away their entire savings to get out from behind the Iron Curtain. They viewed it as a down payment on a life of promise for their special daughter. Defectiors have their enemies though. They changed their last names when they reached the US. Through her new middle name, Miri became the only holder of that once respected and honored name back home; A home she would only know in stories. Miri was the bridge. She straddled between her own reality and a fantasy land held warm in her parents hearts. She resented their attention. She turned inward. Her beauty enraged her.
Her beauty enraged him.
She looked out of the photograph unlike she ever looked out of her own mystically blue eyes. He burned with an uncontrollable heat, an unchecked intensity that put him at unease. This was the first time he had ever been in love. He does not know it. The only thing left unseen is the rest of their lives.
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3 comments:
did she respond? I want more...
Wow! I am truly awed. Your story is a beautiful one- although very much not that of the Hirsh and Miri that I am tryiing to set up!
Jordan Roth is my brother (I am a former Roth too!)- and Hirsh's in to meet Miri.
Are you a writer? Where do you live?
Leah
Leah,
Thanks. I must admit that I have been amazed at how many people out there answer to Jordan Roth. I have turned this into a bit of a hobby. I have recieved personal emails and group mailings to Bizzaro selves. In the past few years I have had the pleasure of responding to six, maybe seven, errant emails; I think this one is my favorite. I do hope the best for Miri and Hirsch.
To answer your other question, I live in San Francisco.
Thank you for sending me that email.
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