no funny title based on a movie, sorry

Went to the Lodge. Bumped into way too many guys about to lose their homes or unable to pay child support or about to be homeless. True story. Nothing funny here. Then drove home listening to a story about Indian people, poor people, who earn their money as human septic sweeps. Yeah, human beings who use their bodies to clean out septic lines in India. We're all going to hell.

Peace out, bitches...

The moonlight shows us for what we really are.

Working is a funny thing in Hollywood: when you don't have it you want it and when you have it you can't wait for it to go away. As luck would have it I just finished a rather painless day at work that was made more bearable by all manner of silliness and shenanigans. I love it when  you go to work and your friends are there and the schedule is realistic and you're sheltered from the elements and even the catering was good today. Ahhh, nice. Now, if someone would just pay me I'd be a hell of  a lot better off! Oh, the dog is bored so I must adieu. Later, if you want, I'll tell you tall tales of the Bigfoot Lodge, which I'ma headed to directly.

Peace out, bitches!

George has fashioned me a metal finger tip, I am quite the town freak which satisfies!

Action on the way! I had a meeting with Maria and we're going to start a documentary about a local gang banger made good. He's been an assistant for Robert Graham, noted artist and designer of, among many other works, the doors at the new church downtown. Anyway, he's having his first solo show on March 21st and his first kid is due in April. It's going to be an interesting time for the guy and I think it'll be fun to be both shooting and around the arts again. In addition, the guy has lived quite a life so the doc might actually be compelling.

In the world of money I'm working on a Carl's Jr. commercial for a few days and then a Wriggley's commercial that promises to suck the marrow from all life around it. Tons of cameras, way too much weird work, and long hours. Make money, money, money, make money! Good times, it's going to get busy around here finally.

And now for something completely different: three cheese plate with Manchengo, Humboldt Fog, and some dreamy cow's milk cheese called Le Wavreumont. It's amazing. Also, black olives with herbs, prosciutto, and a sopresseta. Think it'll work?

Peace out, bitches!

Man, I'll try just about anything, but I'd never in hell touch a pineal gland.

Sunday night and all is boring and unemployed and nothing died at my hands. I can't surf because toxic runoff is strangling the coastline. I haven't worked all week because the remnants of several decades of disastrous deregulatory policies are killing the economy. I can't hunt because hunting season is over. Oh wait! You can hunt wild pig year round! Hazzah! Grilled oinker and root vegetables anyone? I'm fucking out of here!

Oh, I did something good the other day: I took a kid to the Page Museum and despite her best efforts she learned something. And we ate pie at Marie Callander's. The pie was the best part.

Peace out, bitches!

I know just as much about the supernatural as I do about interior design.

Ah, Thursday has rolled around and I find myself completely depressed that it is suddenly grey and wet all around and outside. I never react well to rain  and grey, it just feels so uncalled for most of the time. Granted, the rest of the country is under an avalanche or flooded or without power but hey, that's why I don't fucking live in the midwest of northeast- it's too cold and wet.

On the upside, I've cleaned my soon to be old-place and played with the wet dog and am now going to practice turkey calls. Yes, the quest to have something to hunt at all times of the year continues. With any luck Operation Bowfinger will resume this Saturday and perhaps I'll procure my very own compound bow sometime soon. I have until the summer, I guess, before I actually need to know how to shoot. Seems like enough time.

In other news, the world of work is limping along. Somehow, someway, my friends and I are staying just employed enough to pay our bills and save not a damn thing. Good times. I've had the week off and have been surfing, reading, and hitting the gym, and of course, practicing turkey calls. I'm ready to go back to work but it looks like nothing doing until next week. Balls.

Peace out, bitches!

There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory.

Just heard about this and all I have to say is Bale is an ass and the DP, Hurlburt or whatever, has done his fair share of freaking out on people. Very funny and proof that what goes around comes around. Enjoy!

Peace out, bitches!

I only ask things I'd ask any superstar. What is it that you have got that puts you where you are?

Jesus Christ (superstar!), what a week! I don't even know where to begin so I won't. I'll just post some photos from a house we shot at on Tuesday last week and tell you that you should always be careful what you wish for cuz you might get it and good. I worked my ass off over the last couple of weeks and then went out on Friday and "annihilated this week." I'll seriously buy you a shot if you know what band that's from. Anywhat, Saturday I took the retards (aka Melah and Ani) bowling by taking them to an archery lesson (Project Bowfinger begins!), then my pal got married and some redneck bands played and Melah and I finished the day by eating at Blair's (fan-fucking-tastic! The short ribs with pasta killed it!). Good day. Good solid LA day. Sunday was no less spectacular as we met a bunch of my friends at the beach and Ani had her little buddies and there were kids and surfboards and volleyball and chips and dip and Pelligrino and Melah actually surfed. Fine times were had by all. 

As for work, well, there was the weird house for the Japanese R&B singer who sounds just like Beyonce. That was... interesting. These are all images from a house decorated by an interior decorator and costume designer who has clearly lost his mind. The place is jammed with so many horrible knickknacks and clashing styles. He had a throw pillow with the phrase "Beyond Avarice" stitched into it. What the fuck? The bird was my favorite and I really wanted to steal it but I never really got the chance. 

Following that, the whole camera/grip/electric set of jackasses moved onto another job with another idiosyncratic director but thankfully she was in a good mood. That didn't stop us from shooting Jennifer Hudson for fourteen hours but hey, at least the Director wasn't going batty like she usually does. I did a Bon Jovi video with her years ago and I've never heard anyone scream and cuss so much for no damn reason. Smiles go miles?

Oh, almost forgot, the HBO job that started off the run had a night shoot scheduled for Sunday and I got off work at 7am and slept for an hour in a gas station parking lot and then prepped. Good times!

Now it's Monday and I'm done and I surfed, did laundry, took my dog an a nice long walk and I'm finishing my day practicing turkey calls. God bless America. Not really, I'm just kidding around. I don't actually believe in God in the sense that it could be called on to bless America. I guess what I really meant was Hail Satan!

Peace out, bitches!

ps-Yes, mother! I watched the end of the game. Fuck Warner! Hail and well met Tomlin!