2007-07-21 - 10:52 p.m.
...SPEAK NO EVIL..!!
Actually, make that: �Speak no ANYTHING at all..." That�s been my mantra, since becoming plagued with a week-long...and counting...bout of LARYNGITIS (counting to myself, in my head, that is).It all started last Sunday when I met my friend Diana Biederman at Don�t Tell Mama for an evening of classic American songs known as Victor�s Show. The "Victor" in question is Victor Neufeld, formerly Barbara Walters� producer at 20/20 and currently a producer at CNN. Well, that�s his day job, but Victor does one heck of a cabaret evening�with witty banter in between great songs. But I digress...
So, just as Victor broke into �Come Fly With Me,� I got a fly in my throat�an annoying tickle that just wouldn�t quit, despite my trying to drown it with vodka gimlets. I had to stifle a cough throughout the entire show, �Ahem, ahem-ing� only during the applause. I felt as if my lungs were about to burst. Victor sang on and on� �Route 66,� �I Love You Just The Way You Are,� �Rhode Island Is Famous For You,� �Wasted Away in Margaritaville,� etc. Applause, applause�cough, cough.
I bid Diana good-night�and hacked and wheezed all the way home on the #3 train. (FYI, Diana is now in LA, trying to sell a TV series she developed. Think good thoughts for her. She describes it as �Dynasty in swimsuits.� I see a touch of Melrose Place in there, too. I hope she nails it; it would be such a refreshing change from dumb-old reality TV.)
Monday�still coughing, voice fading.
Tuesday�up at the crack �o dawn for a TV segment on CW11 Morning News with my client Fred Flare, source of �all things cute.� Voice fading FASTER and faster by the minute. One of the models asked me if I had been out �karaoke-ing� all night. �No, I just always sound like Bette Davis after a carton o' Lucky�s.� By evening, my voice was more like an "other-worldly squeak."
Wednesday�VOICE COMPLETELY GONE..!! And, of course the phones kept ringing, and I couldn�t call anyone back. Panic set in. I spent the whole day sending out e-mails apologizing for not returning calls. What would I have done without e-mail..?? The mind reels. My booming business empire might have entirely collapsed! Rushed off to see my darling Dr. Zimmerman (David), who loaded me up with prednisone and antibiotics, which I began pounding before I even left Duane Reade. David told me to "try not to talk AT ALL"�but I was a desperate woman. I had a long-planned meeting tomorrow at Gilda�s Club with Fred Forcellati, my Loehmann�s honcho.
Thursday�woke up saying, �hello, hello�testing�hello��voice still gone. Only a vague whisper is audible. Meeting looming at 2 p.m. DAMN! Drink the tea. Take more drugs. Suck about a million Ricola Cherry/Honey Drops. Still nuthin�. Get to meeting, totally embarrassed, imagining myself as the guy in that really depressing commercial where he has a fake larynx b/c of smoking/cancer. Squeaked and croaked and whispered throughout the meeting, but my throat got so dried out, that suddenly I developed an alarming full-body coughing convulsion. It was an extravaganza of coughing, wheezing, gasping for air, eyes tearing, nose snotting up. It was hideous. I ran from the room, and tried to cough it out and compose myself in the bathroom. Left Fred hangin� with the Gilda�s reps. It was mortifying. When I returned, the meeting was wrapping up, and I felt totally humiliated and exhausted�but what the hell, I gave it my best shot. Back out on the street, Fred (I LOVE this guy) said, �Hey, Linda�don�t call me, okay. Send me an E-MAIL..!!"
Friday�still trapped in my voice-less world. Sent an e-mail to Kevin Moriarty, who had called me earlier in the week. I told him I had no voice, and he wrote back, �Sorry you can't use your voice. Can you still use your mouth?,� which was a tad pervy, though he totally denied it was meant to be suggestive. Hey, how long do I know you, K-Man�?? Took the rest of the day off and went to see Broken English, starring Parker Posey and directed by Zoe Cassavetes (and featuring her mom Gena Rowlands, whom I worship). It was very New York and neurotic and I loved it. Posey�s character was prone to depression and panic attacks and had no luck with men�and, sad to say, I could totally relate. However, she did follow a man to Paris in the end, and the movie lets you believe that things might work out after all. (NOTE TO SELF: Get your ass to Paris. That�s right, folks�I�ve never been to Paris!).
Saturday�able to croak out a few essential words� �Large coffee with half-and-half, please.� Otherwise, no need to talk. Spent a glorious sunny day just roaming around�silently, except for the occasional phlegm-ball. Green market, the Strand, Filene�s, Bed Bath & Beyond. Ate some yellow wax beans and tomatoes and fresh mozzarella for dinner�watched the 12-hour Godfather Saga off and on, read Murakami�s Norwegian Wood. Just chilled. No pressure to call anybody. No can do.
It�s funny�but just a few weeks ago�at a Father�s Day barbecue at my sister Susan�s house, she and my sister Pat told me that I talk too damn much. �You never stop talking; we can�t get a word in edgewise.� Hmmm�I just thought I was being entertaining, informative and amusing (those bitches!).
So, hopefully, soon I will be chit-chatting away in the land of the talking (sorry, Pat and Sue). It�s been extremely frustrating not to be able to communicate. There�s no nuance in an e-mail�unless you bold everything�or use FULL CAPS�or underline...all of which I�m totally guilty of�not to mention exclamation points!!!!
And as a publicist, I�m totally hobbled by not being able to pick up the phone and pitch a story idea or spew my non-stop client propaganda 24/7. It�s deadly not to be able to nail the witty comeback or zing the brain-dead customer-service representative. Mostly I missed dancing around in my underwear singing Amy Winehouse and Janis Joplin songs out loud. Or faux-scatting along with Ella and Mel Torme. (Is it just me�or is scatting completely retarded?)
Okay�I didn�t mean for this to run on SO long�it�s just that I have this logjam of words trapped behind these useless vocal chords�so they had to come out somewhere.
I know, I know�it�s just laryngitis. So, tell me about your ingrown toe-nail, your mosquito bite or your paper cut�
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