Symmetrical book stacking. Just like the Philadelphia mass turbulence of 1947.

Airborne? He was thirty-eight years old. Why the fuck would he do that?

I have been feeling of late like Capt. Willard: standing around, armed and smoking, feeling slightly disgusted and dazed while all around is absurdity and madness. The cow gets airlifted while a flame throwing tank backlights an impromptu post-carnage mass and a man lies on the grown holding himself together with a pot lid. What to do with oneself at moments such as these? What to do indeed.

Movies are like the lite-weight retard version of war. Full of pomp and circumstance signifying nothing but usually minus the death and severed limbs. Lots of people ruin their lives making movies but almost no one dies which is surprising given the general lack of any real intelligence within the filmmaking community.

I'm at that point in a film's birthing process where I simply don't care anymore. I'm short, only nine shoot days left, and all I want to do is not get hit by a sniper or step on a land mine or in any other way catch a hot one. The Suck is full of surprises though, your only real protection is blind luck and a simpleton's tenacity. Stay on target, as it were, and you might just wander through a shit storm and come out on the other side cleaner than you entered. It sounds stupid and it is but such is the business I have chosen. I'm tired. I'm tired of loading and unloading the truck. I'm tired of hearing the 1st AD say, "OK," when what she means is "I don't know what's going on." I'm tired of endless conversations about the best way to do something. I'm tired of being the camera guy who has to show everyone else the right way to do something. I'm tired of Stockholm. I'm tired of rain and cold. I'm tired.

If you watch closely you can usually tell what scene was in the middle of a production. The light will be a little funny and the focus might go soft on a scene that could have been reshoot very easily. Or there'll be a boom shadow or camera shadow or a PA standing in the background doing a lockup. You're over it after awhile and it'll show. You finish strong of course as you're about to be done and the adrenalin takes over and hell, the last week is all anyone will remember anyway unless you really fucked up.

And now for something completely different: I get to send my bi-weekly invoice to production and they can kiss my ass and pay up. Welcome to The Suck.

Peace out, bitches!

King illegal forest to pig wild kill in it a is!

A little yoga, chat with Melah, shoot arrows for an hour- not a bad morning! I think it is now time for some food and a little museum stomping around. Too bad it's so damn overcast.

Peace out, bitches!

We've been up on that hill ten times, and they still don't think we're serious.

At some point a movie ends the production part of it's existence. That is my favorite part of the film making process, the end of principal photography. Let some other cunts do the reshoots and clean-up work, I'll be off this piece and on to another bit of the suck. Right now we're in the middle of the suck- too far gone to turn around but with no end in sight. Not yet, anyway. You can feel it too. The whole crew has that haggard look so common to the mentally unstable and the desperately drunk. We're redlining and we all know it but you can't really do anything else. The few pros on this crew are taking it in stride in the sense that they haven't killed anyone yet or walked away. The FNGs are sweating bullets and loosing it every day. It's hump week and during hump week we separate the wheat from the chaff, the men from the boys, the suckers from the hustlers. Pick your fucking metaphor, it doesn't matter which, it all means the same thing: we ain't done yet so hopefully you have the stones to finish.

Personally, I'm longing for my couch back home. My couch and my wife-to-be and a nice glass of pinot grigio and no one asking me for anything. Maybe watch a movie. Maybe not. I just want it to be so hot we're damp and the doors and windows are all open. That would be nice.

Back here in the suck, though, we have a long weekend coming up. I plan on shooting my bow, skateboarding, and drinking just enough to forget how truly lonely I am right now. As Kilgor said, "Someday this war's gonna end..."

Peace out, bitches!

Go on, make it worse. Now it's gonna rain.

I'm so tired of this shit. I'm short a guy, there are no grips, we only work eight hours a day, and everyone is constantly "politely" yelling at us to go faster. If you want to make a movie look like shit the thing to do is rush. Rush your set dressing, lighting, and camera work and you'll just get yet another sub-par piece of Swedish film making. Fucking typical.

Tomorrow should be even better: a house boat. A cold, damp, cramped and possibly sinking house boat. Awesome. Did I mention it's fucking cold again here?

Dammit!

At least we're still holding fast in the camera department. Poor Björn spent most of the day in the bag while semi-useless but still trying Max "helped" out. I need a loader! Not a second who gets stuck in the bag and a trainee who doesn't know anything.

I made fried rice with ground lamb tonight and it was better than any of the Thai food I've had thus far. There is a spot in Södermalm that's pretty good. Maybe I'll go there Friday after work. Yeah, nice meal, get a few pints and call it a night.

Sigh. I miss home.

Peace out, bitches!

This here's Miss Bonnie Parker. I'm Clyde Barrow. We rob banks.

I truly hate Bank of America. I've said it before, I know, and I'm still a customer but this time they've gone too far. Thanks to the lunkheads, halfwits, bedwetters, and chronic masturbators over at BofA I haven't gotten paid in a month. Awesome. Good job, fellas. Way to not be able to transfer money from Europe to the good ol' US of fucking A.

Rent is due. Alimony is due. Bills needs payin', Pa!

Oh well, nothing to be done on a Saturday in overcast Stockholm except get some food and maybe skate the nearby park. Looks like rain though so maybe hanging out in my awesome flat with a book might be a better idea. 'Sides, we've booked ourselves a commercial shoot for tomorrow and then it's five more days of "Cornelis" and we're doing nights and days with really short turnarounds. By Friday night, which is also Björn's b-day, we'll all be quite haggard and wishing we'd slept more. Yeah, good book and some rest could be the solution to today's sense of "meh."

Peace out, bitches!