At Applause Casting (aka "Applaud Casting" from HURRICANE); one of many casting sessions to find local NM talent for "Lost in New Mexico: the strange tale of Susan Hero". Update, quickly: moving to the small house at Harry's. Slightly more expensive, but I hope worth it. Netflix is on course with hopeful sale for BookWars, will call Monday for final word.
Have spent the past month hauling ass looking for work; lost my backpack in the hills, I set it down to go wander, then dusk started to fall and everything looked different. I couldn’t find it and had to head back before dark. I hope I can find it tomorrow at daylight.
After all effort with Everet, only got onto Around the Bend tomorrow as an extra, as background actor for a day; shee-it. Possible upgrade if they need someone to say a few lines??
01/02/04
All hail the New Year, which appears like a laughing idiot on my Winter doorway. Was in Seattle for holidays (big general disruption, but fun with the folks, as all contacts and industries shut down anyway), now back, finally upgraded my living situation to a place I actually enjoy living in—a small cottage house, my first free standing structure since the old house
back in Ohio. All thanks to Harry the Hat Man: he’s queer, he runs a hat and jewelry shop on Central Ave.
Seventeen years in a house with my folks in Ohio, seventeen years in rented apartments from coast to coast. Notable exception was the bungalow in Venice where I stayed at Dave’s place on the couch, oh, yea, and the Red House on the corner of Rose and Main near Poco Loco Chicken
Restaurant: a psycho scriptwriter named Jedd lived there, whose roommate I’d unsuspectingly become…
A couple years later, when I returned to Venice beach to say hello to my pals in the Dudley Avenue house (some friendly beautiful beach girls and guys, all with lean pecs smooth and plump as chicken breasts) one of the girls suddenly interrupted as we were talking and said ”don’t look now, there’s that stalker I was telling you about”.
Sure enough, I turned and saw him, my old roommate, Jedd, my old roommate from the Red House. As if he sensed my familiar but long absent being, he recoiled from where I stood, and quickly turned back from whence he came.
Anyway, I’ve said “fuck it”. And I don’t care. I just want to get this movie done, one way or another, again even if I shoot on a shoestring. So, if both producers say no, or can bring nothing to the table, I still inch forward towards my April shooting date and do it with sock puppets.
I look to my right and left and see great new movies, but a lot of stars and talent and successful filmmakers have relatives in the business, or they themselves are well-off to begin with (though they are often reluctant to admit it openly; curious they don’t actually, it’s not a defect), and I can’t compete with them head on.
I have to be more creative, go through the backdoor somehow.
Have spent the past month hauling ass looking for work; lost my backpack in the hills, I set it down to go wander, then dusk started to fall and everything looked different. I couldn’t find it and had to head back before dark. I hope I can find it tomorrow at daylight.
After all effort with Everet, only got onto Around the Bend tomorrow as an extra, as background actor for a day; shee-it. Possible upgrade if they need someone to say a few lines??
01/02/04
All hail the New Year, which appears like a laughing idiot on my Winter doorway. Was in Seattle for holidays (big general disruption, but fun with the folks, as all contacts and industries shut down anyway), now back, finally upgraded my living situation to a place I actually enjoy living in—a small cottage house, my first free standing structure since the old house
back in Ohio. All thanks to Harry the Hat Man: he’s queer, he runs a hat and jewelry shop on Central Ave.
Seventeen years in a house with my folks in Ohio, seventeen years in rented apartments from coast to coast. Notable exception was the bungalow in Venice where I stayed at Dave’s place on the couch, oh, yea, and the Red House on the corner of Rose and Main near Poco Loco Chicken
Restaurant: a psycho scriptwriter named Jedd lived there, whose roommate I’d unsuspectingly become…
A couple years later, when I returned to Venice beach to say hello to my pals in the Dudley Avenue house (some friendly beautiful beach girls and guys, all with lean pecs smooth and plump as chicken breasts) one of the girls suddenly interrupted as we were talking and said ”don’t look now, there’s that stalker I was telling you about”.
Sure enough, I turned and saw him, my old roommate, Jedd, my old roommate from the Red House. As if he sensed my familiar but long absent being, he recoiled from where I stood, and quickly turned back from whence he came.
Anyway, I’ve said “fuck it”. And I don’t care. I just want to get this movie done, one way or another, again even if I shoot on a shoestring. So, if both producers say no, or can bring nothing to the table, I still inch forward towards my April shooting date and do it with sock puppets.
I look to my right and left and see great new movies, but a lot of stars and talent and successful filmmakers have relatives in the business, or they themselves are well-off to begin with (though they are often reluctant to admit it openly; curious they don’t actually, it’s not a defect), and I can’t compete with them head on.
I have to be more creative, go through the backdoor somehow.
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