never tell imperfectly
I think officially this weekend could be described as "wasted."
Thursday midday I met with Jon and Russ. We got typically lofty and ambitious about some shot ideas (even with Russ trying to ground us, Jon and I were on a roll). I got excited by a crazy/difficult idea for the two hotel scenes that would visually tie the opening sequence to the closing sequence gorgeously... I think. If we can figure out how to pull it off, and then once we've figured out how, if we can actually pull it off.
Anyway, that's about the last time I remember being really productive. I mean, to be fair, on Friday I stayed up late and flooded the internet with Please Come To My Fundraiser posts (not that I'm surprised but it's still a little ego-bruising the proportion of Nos to Yeses one gets), and I did fix many a cutting problem with Bathwater, which I suppose took a couple of hours of work. But it's sort of a blur. I stayed up late that night watching the indie post-apoc film Right At Your Door, pleasantly surprised but not by any means blown away, and woke up Saturday real late. Like, 3:00.
I went almost immediately from lying prone on my futon to sitting at Lloyd Cinemas watching There Will Be Blood again. Then, somehow I ended up at Everyday Music where I bought (!!) Chris Walla's solo CD. Then it's a blur: I know I called Olivia Piper (voicemail), and Kelly (voicemail), and Debi (voicemail), and almost Liz and Melissa (but by then I'd sort of given up). I know I ended up at My Father's Place by myself, ate a salad, watched a drunk Missourian get kicked out ("He calls me a nigger! And if I call him a nigger, his momma slaps me! You belee'dat?"), and wrote notes to myself which basically amounted to Why The Time Travel Dream Couldn't Actually Make A Good Film/Story.
Then, home by 1 and asleep around 3am, I got back up this morning and worked at the Film Center from 9 to 5. So, that's work, but it was boring and I felt groggy and crummy (grommy? cruggy?) and it certainly doesn't count as productivity. After work, starved, I went to the Night Light where by coincidence I saw the Patriots win the Super Bowl (Slingboxed onto Debi's laptop, while she worked). I ate free nachos and drank free whiskeys and wrote myself seven moleskine pages which basically amounted to Why The Suicide Story Isn't Actually A Very Good Story Either, In Fact It's Not Actually A Story At All You Dumbshit.
Then, Movie Madness. Slightly whiskeyed and feeling the weight of Tonight's Not Gonna Be Fruitful, Probably, I wandered for at least an hour in and out of crap sections. I'd decided it might be a nice night to watch part or all of some TV series I'd been considering, but everything I looked at felt wrong. I considered new shows, and bad sci-fi, and British series (having watched The Singing Detective last night and feeling kind of cheated, I couldn't bring myself to immediately pick up the BBC Miniseries that's supposedly "one of the best things in television history"), and looked at goofy erotic films (I didn't know they had a Nasty Nazis section), and music videos, and animations (Aeon Flux? nah; Simpsons? nah). Finally I settled on Season 2 of Twin Peaks. Then I came here and promptly decided, at least for the moment, not to watch it.
So, in short: Thursday a meeting. Friday a little editing and some self-pimping. Saturday almost nothing. Sunday work and nothing. A whole weekend off and nothing to show for it, almost.
Someone's shooting a film outside the studio right now. A genny is running and big kinos are hung under the Tillamook overpass. A barrel fire is going and actors are crowded around it. Someone who must be a producer or AD is walking around with a bike light on his head like some kind of miner. They have some kind of square mini-tent set up and everything for crew. I can't make out what's going on but every few minutes they all cheer and clap. What with the train and the generator, I have to assume an MOS shoot, which means the applause must be because something went right (not just part of the scene). They are out there being productive; I am sitting in here blogging about being unproductive.
Maybe they say the grass is always greener because it's actually greener over there, huh?
(Or maybe they're just not sitting around bitching about it. Ha!)
Thursday midday I met with Jon and Russ. We got typically lofty and ambitious about some shot ideas (even with Russ trying to ground us, Jon and I were on a roll). I got excited by a crazy/difficult idea for the two hotel scenes that would visually tie the opening sequence to the closing sequence gorgeously... I think. If we can figure out how to pull it off, and then once we've figured out how, if we can actually pull it off.
Anyway, that's about the last time I remember being really productive. I mean, to be fair, on Friday I stayed up late and flooded the internet with Please Come To My Fundraiser posts (not that I'm surprised but it's still a little ego-bruising the proportion of Nos to Yeses one gets), and I did fix many a cutting problem with Bathwater, which I suppose took a couple of hours of work. But it's sort of a blur. I stayed up late that night watching the indie post-apoc film Right At Your Door, pleasantly surprised but not by any means blown away, and woke up Saturday real late. Like, 3:00.
I went almost immediately from lying prone on my futon to sitting at Lloyd Cinemas watching There Will Be Blood again. Then, somehow I ended up at Everyday Music where I bought (!!) Chris Walla's solo CD. Then it's a blur: I know I called Olivia Piper (voicemail), and Kelly (voicemail), and Debi (voicemail), and almost Liz and Melissa (but by then I'd sort of given up). I know I ended up at My Father's Place by myself, ate a salad, watched a drunk Missourian get kicked out ("He calls me a nigger! And if I call him a nigger, his momma slaps me! You belee'dat?"), and wrote notes to myself which basically amounted to Why The Time Travel Dream Couldn't Actually Make A Good Film/Story.
Then, home by 1 and asleep around 3am, I got back up this morning and worked at the Film Center from 9 to 5. So, that's work, but it was boring and I felt groggy and crummy (grommy? cruggy?) and it certainly doesn't count as productivity. After work, starved, I went to the Night Light where by coincidence I saw the Patriots win the Super Bowl (Slingboxed onto Debi's laptop, while she worked). I ate free nachos and drank free whiskeys and wrote myself seven moleskine pages which basically amounted to Why The Suicide Story Isn't Actually A Very Good Story Either, In Fact It's Not Actually A Story At All You Dumbshit.
Then, Movie Madness. Slightly whiskeyed and feeling the weight of Tonight's Not Gonna Be Fruitful, Probably, I wandered for at least an hour in and out of crap sections. I'd decided it might be a nice night to watch part or all of some TV series I'd been considering, but everything I looked at felt wrong. I considered new shows, and bad sci-fi, and British series (having watched The Singing Detective last night and feeling kind of cheated, I couldn't bring myself to immediately pick up the BBC Miniseries that's supposedly "one of the best things in television history"), and looked at goofy erotic films (I didn't know they had a Nasty Nazis section), and music videos, and animations (Aeon Flux? nah; Simpsons? nah). Finally I settled on Season 2 of Twin Peaks. Then I came here and promptly decided, at least for the moment, not to watch it.
So, in short: Thursday a meeting. Friday a little editing and some self-pimping. Saturday almost nothing. Sunday work and nothing. A whole weekend off and nothing to show for it, almost.
Someone's shooting a film outside the studio right now. A genny is running and big kinos are hung under the Tillamook overpass. A barrel fire is going and actors are crowded around it. Someone who must be a producer or AD is walking around with a bike light on his head like some kind of miner. They have some kind of square mini-tent set up and everything for crew. I can't make out what's going on but every few minutes they all cheer and clap. What with the train and the generator, I have to assume an MOS shoot, which means the applause must be because something went right (not just part of the scene). They are out there being productive; I am sitting in here blogging about being unproductive.
Maybe they say the grass is always greener because it's actually greener over there, huh?
(Or maybe they're just not sitting around bitching about it. Ha!)