Grumpy people suck
Today was day one of the filming for the next BlackMilk production, The Lovers. Contrary to my earlier threats of somehow purchasing a ticket to Timbuktu, I was there, behind the scenes, helping with the set-up and packing up. Oh, and of course helping the husband with the sourcing of some of the materials required for the props. And dusted off my archaic knitting skills (but you'll have to see the movie to understand).
We shot the interior scenes today at Leon's flat in Gardens, a lovely old 1960s building and all went well, the different shots waxed within good time. The only complication was the grumpy folks living in the apartment block, one particular old grumpy lady coming up to bitch and whine about the "heavy boots" and the moving of furniture.
To be perfectly honest, we moved one cupboard twice. As for booted feet, no one was jumping up and down. And we were well within limits of reasonable hours (busy from about 10am until 5pm). So, really, the woman could have just bloody well dealt with it. Oh, wait, it was Sunday. We're all supposed to be hibernating.
I think she sent her husband up to case the joint, because this really doff old geezer stood at the open front door, his mouth flapping inanities no one paid the least bit of attention to. We later met him on our way out at the front door. My god, the feelthy look I received (well, I was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a Path of Sin T-shirt). But he looked at Zolty and passed some sort of comment, and also tuned Other Leon some stupid phrase.
I mean, WTF? If I ever, ever make it to old bones, which isn't bloody likely and not something that particularly bothers me, I sincerely pray that I don't become a crotchety old self-righteous grump. I've met some 60-year-olds who can party along with the young 'uns and they're IMPRESSIVE. They have more buzz than I do sometimes.
So, really, a message to grumpy old folk. Get a freaking life! We're out trying to do stuff and if it means we gotta move a few bits of furniture around then so be it. We're creating things of beauty. We're not hiding in our miserable little apartments and sniping at the young 'uns, okay?
Status report:
Finished edits on urban fantasy novel for a fire-and-brimstone author I'm working with.
Put away a good chunk on a romance novel I'm editing.
Hell's Music now cruising at 57 000 words.
An idea for a short vampire erotica piece sort of outlined.
We shot the interior scenes today at Leon's flat in Gardens, a lovely old 1960s building and all went well, the different shots waxed within good time. The only complication was the grumpy folks living in the apartment block, one particular old grumpy lady coming up to bitch and whine about the "heavy boots" and the moving of furniture.
To be perfectly honest, we moved one cupboard twice. As for booted feet, no one was jumping up and down. And we were well within limits of reasonable hours (busy from about 10am until 5pm). So, really, the woman could have just bloody well dealt with it. Oh, wait, it was Sunday. We're all supposed to be hibernating.
I think she sent her husband up to case the joint, because this really doff old geezer stood at the open front door, his mouth flapping inanities no one paid the least bit of attention to. We later met him on our way out at the front door. My god, the feelthy look I received (well, I was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a Path of Sin T-shirt). But he looked at Zolty and passed some sort of comment, and also tuned Other Leon some stupid phrase.
I mean, WTF? If I ever, ever make it to old bones, which isn't bloody likely and not something that particularly bothers me, I sincerely pray that I don't become a crotchety old self-righteous grump. I've met some 60-year-olds who can party along with the young 'uns and they're IMPRESSIVE. They have more buzz than I do sometimes.
So, really, a message to grumpy old folk. Get a freaking life! We're out trying to do stuff and if it means we gotta move a few bits of furniture around then so be it. We're creating things of beauty. We're not hiding in our miserable little apartments and sniping at the young 'uns, okay?
Status report:
Finished edits on urban fantasy novel for a fire-and-brimstone author I'm working with.
Put away a good chunk on a romance novel I'm editing.
Hell's Music now cruising at 57 000 words.
An idea for a short vampire erotica piece sort of outlined.