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!