10.23.06
Posted in Life at 9:06 am by Fletcher
So, its confirmed.
I’m in on the Nantucket Shoot. And according to Capt. Ron, I’ll be working with the lighting crew. Something new to learn. And being in Nantucket, in the fall - time to bust out the cable-knit sweaters, tweed and wool. Affect a New England Accent. Start smoking a pipe and drinking Narries.
Saturday was a massive night with the good Captain and most of the crew - we met at the pub, where our esteemed Director was hosting. I met Damien, an associate of Capt. Ron who taunted me mercilessly about how much work I’d be doing as part of the lighting crew. Capt. Ron had notes and sketched out the hospital where we’ll be shooting and was running down his shot list, while the pub filled with Bridge and Tunnel shmoes. When Heather and her two friends from college called, we decided to adjourn to the Irish Pub down the block - more space, less assholes…
And how we drank, and ate really bad-for-you pub food, and talked incessantly - that vibe of connection - that feeling of being with the right people; who share a common passion and similar goals; and we spent a long happy time just enjoying that bond. I had a weird twist when I ducked out for a smoke and was assaulted by a drunk Aussie - a guy I knew from working at the Newspaper; who drank and gossiped with the best of them. We talked and he filled me in on the latest comings and goings of the Paper, and I felt a weird pulling in my head, like part of me missed those days of journalistic bombastic fun, and the direction life has taken me since I left. I returned to my team a bit confused and shaken - wanting to go in 2 directions at once…
This was quickly forgotten as Heather started gathering everyone to head back to the Director’s pad, after stocking up on ale and chips, and we proceeded to spend the next couple of hours being entertained by some electronic digital version of ‘Guess that Word’ until it was 4 in the morning and I found myself drifting mentally. Some of the other guests were getting ready to depart, so I made myself part of the exodus, drifting home and towards sleep; with a smile and that special buzz that comes from being with good friends…
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10.18.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:17 am by Fletcher
Looks like we’re putting the band back together.
Got an email from Capt. Ron about an upcoming shoot, and as soon as he finds a place for me, I’m in.
Nantucket. Freakin’. Island.
3 day shoot, expenses paid. With the crew from the ‘Sovereignty’ shoot. I don’t care if I have to scrub toilets and give foot massages to lepers, I am going.
I just got the script, and what’s cool about this one is that there is a wide range of interpretation one could apply to the script, as well as a ton of ‘make it up on the spot as you go’ type improvisation. Like film meets fusion jazz. The only negative is that some filming might be in a hospital. And I like hospitals as much as I like jails. Still, Nantucket in the fall. Hell, I’ll clean the damn hospital for this chance.
Off the record: I’m considering a redesign of this here online journal (I hate the term blog, it sounds like a gross biological act; ‘Scuse me, I’m gonna blog all over dis joint!’) 1st on the docket: NAME CHANGE. When I started this here thang, it was in response to a dramatic change in my life, namely dumping a cheating wench - but, time wounds all heals, as Mr. Marx put it, and I’ve moved on, grown, etc. and the white hot anger that fueled the name has mellowed into a minor headache, and I question that a more definitive title would fit my life and what it has become.
Which means I have no idea what to call it. So, I’m taking suggestions…
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10.17.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:19 am by Fletcher
One of my fellow inmates at the vocational Guantanamo chastised me and a fellow for our Monday Morning Analysis of Battlestar Galactica. I was halfway thru my commentary when my phone rang, and she yelled into the phone, loud enough to be heard across the city desk (as well as a 4 block radius):
‘Stop talking about Galactica, you #%$*&!!! geek!’
And this coming from a Trekkie.
And one who will debate the whole Star Trek vs Star Wars conflict.
And one who swears that I’d never get her hooked on it. Sounds like a challenge to me.
DJ $ellout and I talked about this, and the one thing that we agreed upon is the stigma of the name. It obviously brings horrid memories of cheap 70’s sci-fi knockoff with bad hair, overly recycled special effects and campy dialog. If it was named ‘The kickass show where they blow up shit, drink, cuss and have freaky sex’ then no one would think twice about it. And that’s the other hangup, that its in ’space’. Which is completely irrelevant. It could be set on a modern day aircraft carrier with little to no tweaking of plot elements and everyone would be into it.
And then we could call it ‘The kickass show where they blow up shit, drink, cuss and have freaky sex’ - plus any show that has a major character that looks like this has my vote…
In other bits of geek news: I’m organizing the ‘1st Annual Bring Your Best Cheesy ‘B’ Movie Night’ this weekend, my contributions being; Buckaroo Banzai, Return of the Living Dead, and Series 7 The Contenders - it should be interesting…
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10.15.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:30 pm by Fletcher
The wedding was awesome, bride looked lovely, groom looked dashing. Everyone was in great spirits, and we consumed great amounts of spirits.
Photos are here
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10.13.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:47 pm by Fletcher
Busy on the ol’ Email today - trying to make arrangements for the Smooth One’s Wedding (pix will follow).
I got an email from Capt. Ron, who might need help on a shoot.
and the Swedish Chick wrote me…
life is looking up.
or as the Smooth One would put it: ‘I’m Winning.’
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Posted in Thirsty Thursday at 12:37 pm by Fletcher
Thirsty Thursday: Clone Wars Edition.
Perfect Tommy is working the bar, training an energetic asian kid with a lot of piercings and who responds to the unlikely name of Say. Perfect Tommy (so named after a character from the best cheeseball B movie of the 80’s, “Buckaroo Banzai”) and I chat about Red, and just how cool Swedish chicks are in general.
The pub seems light-hearted, despite the drop in temperature, and people seem mellow and relaxed. As I pop out for a smoke and a chat with Craig The Bouncer, I casually take in the 3rd Ave. scene. I see a familiar head bobbing up and down at the Banc, across the avenue. Its Heather, chatting away with Em, the wildly creative red-head. I call her and tell her to wave across the street, but of course she wants me to pop over and say hi.
I finish my ale, leave it on the bar with a napkin on it and tell Perfect Tommy to ‘put my beers on hold, I’ll be right back’ and chat with the ladies for a while about Fed-Ex, movies, insurance, art, famous homeless people, Braking for Jake, and Heather’s Super Mum, who is in town.
3 pints later it hits me: O Shit. I’ve got a tab running across the street, as well as my bag, hopefully still slung over the back of a barstool. I quickly apologize to the ladies (who were getting ready to leave anyway) and book across 3rd. Perfect Tommy chastising me for leaving him with the ladies too long. As I settle back into that scene, I get the nicotine urge once again and pop back outside. Craig is talking to some guy, who he introduces as Alpha, a former bartender, ex-marine and now owner of his own private security firm.
OK, let’s be honest: the guy was a fucking Merc.
Thousand yard stare, rigid back, flat top hair used to measure how level stuff is, handshake that could pulverize rocks, and forearms bigger than my friggin’ thighs. And his energy and mannerisms just speak Action Hero. The guy’s got amazing stories about Africa, the Middle East, The Far East, and I spend a good hour just listening to his lurid tales, but I realize its a school night and have to head on home…
And as I’m walking back to the pad, I realize: I shoulda given him my business card, considering my soon-to-be vocationally challenged status. Hell, every Action Hero needs a geeky sidekick who can work computers, fix anything, and retort with quick witted banter.
And I’m that guy.
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10.10.06
Posted in Uncategorized, Life at 8:00 am by Fletcher
In the ongoing saga of the occupational sphincter nuggets, its good news, bad news. I was given a exit interview in which various options were thrown out at lightning speed, under the watchful ministrations of the Big Kahuna and some HRobot. The options are: stay until I find something else, stay until the bitter end and get some cheap jack severance package or move to Asshole, Mo.
I told them exactly when, where, and how they should expect me to move to Dipshit, Alaska.
I also let them know, in no uncertain terms, just what I thought of the low rent manner in which they informed the lower caste, via conference call, and how it was only slightly less chickenshit than the mass email firings that Radio Shack did a few weeks back.
Still, between the severance, staying bonus, performance bonus- I should have a nice chunk of change, which I can start that IRA I’ve been meaning to, and look at putting down payment on a chunk of land to build my dream house / evil empire. Either that or a one way ticket off this rock and expat my ass to someplace where I can start my dream of enjoying a Jimmy Buffett-esque lifestyle…
But before that little dream can be actualized, I’m gonna check with my lawyer about how binding such agreements are. After seeing my old pappy get dicked around fairly good by a cross section of Corp. America, I trust any asshole in a suit about as far as I can shoot a turd out of my ass.
But, onto more positive aspects of life: Had a major panic attack because of mounting bills and discovered that I would be a few days late with the rent (damn bi-weekly friggin’ pay structure, why can’t they pay us weekly like normal people?) But, the roomie / landlord, in his infinite coolness let it slide, to which I’m grateful- its one less thing to worry about.
Also: The honcho in the mailroom at the vocational flatulence got in contact with his man at Fed-Ex, who asked for a detailed description of what happened, package contents, tracking number and whatnot - keeping every appendage crossed for that miracle that our film will be safely restored to us.
And: This weekend is the long awaited Marriage of Suavezinho, a tragic opera in three parts, ending with the earth opening up and swallowing the wedding party whole, ridding itself of this weird twist of fate and the astronomical impossibility of the Smooth One taking a bride.
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10.05.06
Posted in Life at 7:54 am by Fletcher
Thank you Mr. Hendrix for that apt quote…
The Director put out an APB to everyone in his contact list, hoping that somebody, somewhere, knows a high level Fed-Ex manager, director, or someone that can shake a stick at the proper people to find our lost film. I managed to persuade that guys at shipping / receiving (at the ol’ vocational hemorrhoid) to take a lash at it - fingers are crossed, hopes are high, but as Mr. Rollins once said: ‘Hope is the last act of someone defeated’.
Meh.
So its a step back. If need be, we’ll re-shoot it in the spring, I’ll make the blood even more thick and goopy, and bring the damn video camera so this time, I’ll preserve it for posterity. And bring a hip flask.
On a more postitive note; the Producers just dropped word that they’re finishing “Like a Springsteen Song“, and a premiere party is imminent. Since most of the cast and crew also worked on ‘Sovereignty’, it’ll help lift some spirits seeing hard work up on the screen, and surrounded with good people and talent, should help lift the team out of this emotional topor.
Also, the closest thing to being stoned while looking at a computer screen.
And coolness on the horizon: getting ready for the Smooth One’s wedding and still debating an acceptable gift; plus BSG’s season 3 starts tomorrow night, so I’m gearing up for high geek mode…
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10.03.06
Posted in Art, Life at 8:26 am by Fletcher
Got a call from Heather last night - sounding a bit down and needing an ear to bend, so I met her at her pad - and when I got there, it was obvious that she was distraught, on the verge of a meltdown.
In a drained monotone, she told me, kept repeating; it’s lost - it’s gone.
As in: The Movie.
As in: we’re fucked.
As in: all of our hard work, our time, our creative energies - gone.
Her face is a study in misery. And its tough, something that we all gave so much to, its like (as she put it) having your dog run off, and not knowing its fate. Is it dead? Lost and forgotten and hungry somewhere? Seized by someone else to be thrown in a pit and fight for its life? And the not knowing part is perhaps the toughest thing to deal with - had it gone up in flames, then there could be a sense of cloture, a way of getting past it, of moving on. And right now, this poor girl can’t wrap her head around her missing dog (or film), and needs a friend.
Jeez, I never know what to say in times like this. I remind her that this is not the worst thing that could happen. She has a home, her wits, and a great deal of support from a whole bunch of people. And (in my twisted ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ way) I tell her that we can do it again, we can make that magic again, and I, for one, would jump at the chance to have another experience like I had on that set. And for that matter, I’m almost relieved, as it gives me a lot more time to work on the opening animation and make it right.
And we talk, running through the following topics in no particular order: horror movies, karma, country music, Anne Rice’s Vampire books, my romantic interests, politics, family, and the book she’s writing. And eventually, we get to a point where the fates don’t seem that oppressive, and we can agree that, yes, we’ve had a setback, but ultimately we will prevail and that if we have to shoot this movie over again - so be it. We will do it, and we’ll do it better and we’ll have a ton of fun making that movie one more time.
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