I’m scheduled to shoot a short film today, and I assumed I’d be hogtied right now, but our main actress bailed last night around 2 a.m.
Without her, we’re skee-roooo’d, so we are scrambling to secure another actress. One woman has agreed to do the part, but she’s a SAG actress which will require specific permission if she does something unpaid.
I’m sitting on my hands waiting to hear back. It’s fun working with a crew. There’s a producer and a director who are picking up what I’d have to do if I were on it alone.
So here I wait. I’ll write a few notes down that have been going through my noggin.
I discovered I have a superpower. Are you jealous? I was skeptical, but I’m sure I have one. When I go running, I almost get hit by a car every other outing. That must mean I’m invisible. Right? I mean, how else do you miss a 170 lb man with big black hair moving at approximately 8 or 9 miles per hour?
For about a year, Tina has learned how to color her own hair using professional products. But after doing it herself for that long, she desperately needed to have a professional job done. So I encouraged her to find someone. She found this one guy in our neighborhood, but his rates were through the roof. Then she reached out to a person we’ve used for hair on a photoshoot, and she agreed to do it fairly reasonably and she would do it at our home.
On Wednesday, she came by and they worked in the kitchen for what seemed like days, chatting it up about all kinds of topics. We asked if she would cut my hair, and she did. It was a little pricy, but it was worth it. She did an amazing job. I’ll have to post pictures at some point.
Last weekend, we re-watched Austin Powers. It has to be one of the funniest movies of all time. So many great lines. Probably my all-time favorite scene is when Dr. Evil and Scott go to therapy. When Dr. Evil is asked to give his story, he stands and says:
The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum… it’s breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
We reference the movie a lot, because almost every time we park in our parking spot for our condo, we have to jimmy our car in, forward and reversing several times in almost complete minutiae to work our way in.
Inevitably, I’ll say, “Lemme just Austin Powers our way in here.”
I’ve been running a one-sided conversation about religion lately in my mind when I can’t sleep at night. It’s essentially trying to cul down the possibility of telling someone why I don’t believe in the shortest way possible. I eventually fall back asleep before I nail down the “perfect” delivery.
Essentially, the speech goes something like:
Given the magnanimity of the universe, I understand why anyone would believe that a larger-than-thou, awesome being created everything. But to think that that being created two people and put them in paradise, ostensibly without flaw, and within vessels that were immune from disease, death and harm. Then once they disobeyed, that disobedience was so awful, so incredibly evil, that the rest of humanity, for all time, must suffer things like cancers, typhoons, hurricanes, starvation, diseases, handicaps, and ultimately death.
Why don’t people revolt when they learn that their cancer is the result of the crime of disobedience?
“Sorry, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, your daughter has down syndrome and deformities. If it weren’t for your great great great great to the tenth power grandparents and their idiot decision to eat from that one tree, your daughter would be perfectly healthy. Blame Adam & Eve for the torment your daughter will experience.”
Then after four thousand years (or whatever time period between Adam & Eve to Jesus), people were separated from that being without a bridge. That being’s answer is NOT to fix the issues of cancer, starvation, weather destruction, etc., it’s to cure “death.” And curing “death” means you still have to cross over. You still have to “die.” It’s just that you live forever AFTER dying.
Jesus would actually be an effective savior should he have actually done more than provide a cure for the inevitable fate that you still have to experience to get to “meet” the bastard.
Once you take the concept of such incredible design and masterful creativity, and you place that being in the context of the creative “mind” behind the bible, it renders that mysterious awesomeness a flaccid, powerless fart.
Those are just some meandering thoughts about the process. There are always little nuances to the topic. I usually fall back asleep from boredom after the first line or two. But sometimes the process goes further.
I must go check on my filmmaking debacle. Glad I had a chance to bore you with this update.
Thanks for reading and thanks for any response you might have.