...sometimes the line walks you.
yeah, the rest of the Fincher shoot was great. Long hours, hectic sleep schedule, but it was only for 4 days.
I'm back at Working Title for now, continuing to "intern" even though I'm no longer even in college. It gives me something to do while I wait for my next P.A. job-- otherwise, seeing as how I was fired from my cafe job in order to work the Fincher commercial, I would have quuiiiiiite a bit of free time on my hands. More than I would know what to do with, actually.
At least I've had time to start reading something other than screenplays recently-- I'm 150 pages into "A Confederacy of Dunces".
I'm trying to get my legs back on my bike, but it's scary. Apparently that crash I had just before leaving Boston did more damage than I thought...I'm not the confident rider I was. I kind of feel like I was traumatized a little. Yes, I'm aware of how ridiculous that sounds, but I'm serious. I keep having little flashbacks to the accident when I'm riding-- I guess nearly dying will do that to you.
This solitary life I'm leading right now, consisting mainly of books, dvds, and a lot of alcohol, is wearing thin. It's nice though, to just lay on my bed with my roommate's cat, and read. But getting drunk alone every night probably isn't the healthiest of lifestyles I suppose.
Speaking of alcohol though-- I was just at this sketchy liquor store, and these two huge black dudes asked me for change. I handed them what I had, and one of the guys was like "Good lookin' out, brother", and then his friend saw the 40oz of Steel Reserve I had just bought and LOST HIS SHIT. He started yelling: "OH SHIT-- he's got the 211!!!" and a bunch of other stuff.
So, in conclusion, I'm glad my choice in malt liquor is enough to inspire nods of approval from guys like that, seriously.
I'm back at Working Title for now, continuing to "intern" even though I'm no longer even in college. It gives me something to do while I wait for my next P.A. job-- otherwise, seeing as how I was fired from my cafe job in order to work the Fincher commercial, I would have quuiiiiiite a bit of free time on my hands. More than I would know what to do with, actually.
At least I've had time to start reading something other than screenplays recently-- I'm 150 pages into "A Confederacy of Dunces".
I'm trying to get my legs back on my bike, but it's scary. Apparently that crash I had just before leaving Boston did more damage than I thought...I'm not the confident rider I was. I kind of feel like I was traumatized a little. Yes, I'm aware of how ridiculous that sounds, but I'm serious. I keep having little flashbacks to the accident when I'm riding-- I guess nearly dying will do that to you.
This solitary life I'm leading right now, consisting mainly of books, dvds, and a lot of alcohol, is wearing thin. It's nice though, to just lay on my bed with my roommate's cat, and read. But getting drunk alone every night probably isn't the healthiest of lifestyles I suppose.
Speaking of alcohol though-- I was just at this sketchy liquor store, and these two huge black dudes asked me for change. I handed them what I had, and one of the guys was like "Good lookin' out, brother", and then his friend saw the 40oz of Steel Reserve I had just bought and LOST HIS SHIT. He started yelling: "OH SHIT-- he's got the 211!!!" and a bunch of other stuff.
So, in conclusion, I'm glad my choice in malt liquor is enough to inspire nods of approval from guys like that, seriously.