Curse you for breathin' ya slack-jawed idiot.

So I haven't posted in almost a week but I don't think it matters since no one is reading this anyway. Well, that's not true. My mom reads it and thinks I'm the coolest, just ask her!

The past few days have been rather. . . interesting? I worked on a music video on Thursday and Friday and it beat me down. I don't really feel like the work itself was particularly hard, it was more that the lack of organization or planning taxed my intellect. Normally we all show up, the various departments and whatnot, and we pull our gear out and everything is organized and ready to go and we wait to see what the director wants to do. Not a bad state of affairs really, military-style hierarchy, everyone has a job to do so we arrive at the goal of completing the day's work. Nice. Neat. Straightforward. Not on this one. I was talking to the Key Grip, my pal, at one point and we decided that there was no fucking C.O. That's right, no one was truly piloting this ship as it slowly drifted toward some very nasty looking bits of rock and reef. As much as we tried, we couldn't get anyone to give us a straight answer about what we were doing or what we would be doing. This is horribly frustrating for department heads, you simply can't get ahead, you can't plan your day and effectively utilize your guys or your gear. You spend the whole day dodging bullets and reacting to things a shade too late. It sucks.  It's demoralizing. Most importantly, it makes the day seem so much longer and the prospect of a nice cold beer on the couch seems to fade away into the horizon. I always feel a few decades older after a music video.

There were some shinning moments though, like when David Motherfuckin' Carridine showed up in full "Kill Bill" regalia and slapped one of the lead singers. We got it all on film! He ad-libbed this little interaction and slapped the shit out of the kid and then gave the crew this weird speech. I think he was high or drunk or both but either way it was priceless. Crazy old actors who have seen it all and just don't give a fuck anymore really make me happy.

In bizzaro news the owner of the house was psychotic. He let a whole crew inside and then insisted that we not move or touch anything. He basically added an extra day to our schedule by making these stupid requests so they had to drop some shots. What an asshole. Why bother letting people shoot there if you're going to pace around all day and be a jackass? Film crews are very respectful of locations but shit happens sometimes. Personally, I'd never let someone shoot in my place unless they wanted to give me a million dollars and a blow job. What? Nothing. Funny thing about the house, it was Frank Sinatra's old hideaway from the Rat Pack days. Middle of Chatsworth, which really is the middle of nowhere suburban sprawl. Weird. I never want to go back there again, it sucked. Damn Rat Pack.

The three day weekend was basically spent sleeping and eating and surfing. That's a good weekend! Got to hang out with Melah quite a lot and even managed to take Bean & Brent out to insanely good Chinese food. Too bad the work week is now upon me and I have to stay up all night, in fake rain, to shoot a commercial for some useless Italian product. The money is good but dammit, fake rain? I hope it's not still cold tonight because there really isn't anything worse for camera work than cold and wet. I don't like it, the gear doesn't like it, and usually water just makes things go wrong in the film business.

Fuck it. I don't have to be at work until 6:30pm (it's 8am! Why am I awake? Oh yeah, Ghost.) so I think I'll go for a surf and take a nap on the beach. Livin' the fuckin' dream.