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    Thursday, December 08, 2005


    They're here, in the house. The fancy men with their fancy 24p camera eating biscuits and crapping like trained monkeys in the toilet. Of course, as irony is my friend, the cat didn't try and wake me at 6:30 this morning. He simply jumped on the bed and went to sleep. So I woke myself at 4:00 expecting his arrival and drifted in and out of consciousness until my alarm went off at 7:00. If they hadn't been coming, I would have slept through the night for the first time in 7 days. Instead, I'm surrounded by grips and electrics, a DP who thinks he's the director, but is unable to make the lighting adjustments, so the AC is basically the DP. Now the director/producer is trying to tell the DP what he wants. It's like film school all over again except these are local "professionals".

    Somehow the craft services woman was just told who I was, whatever that means. She just asked me what my screenplay is about. I told her I don't talk about those things. I've said nothing to anyone. What little musings about me have radiated into the air here in this fair city? This is very disconcerting.

    They're pulling up the carpets and have called for a dolly. It's most interesting to me that this is a shoot for images to be used for a special about fung shui, and there is no "designer" here so the director/producer is running around redecorating and wondering where all of the "props" were from whenever it was he photographed the house. Plus, unless my understanding of Fung Shui is off, the house while nicely designed, is not a fung shui house. Oh well. What do I know. After this I'll never work in this town again.

    Director/Producer just asked if I could write a screenplay while they were outside the office making so much noise. I told him I'm not writing a screenplay. I'm not, I'm writing this.

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