Insomnia, Reality
We do little tricks.
We make little tricks.
The tricks sometimes help.
But they never do.
My friend died.
Cancer.
She wasn't much older than 40.
I got the email around noon.
When I was supposed to be sleeping.
The news wouldn't let me sleep.
I made tricks.
I downloaded Elvis bootlegs.
And Pussy Galore bootlegs.
I "liked" Pussy Galore on Facebook.
I couldn't sleep.
A new email arrived.
My friend was sexually assaulted.
In her own home.
By an intruder.
I had trouble processing it.
She will wear that scar for the rest of her life.
How will she ever sleep again?
I had trouble processing it.
It was truly shocking.
I had trouble processing it.
What am I doing?
This stupid film.
This stupid movie.
It was getting close to 2pm.
I couldn't sleep.
More tricks.
The Office.
Ken Burns Civil War documentary.
I tossed and turned.
I emailed Holli while she slept.
"Now you're really sawin' logs."
I took a shower.
None of my tricks worked.
Men II Boyz
I wasn't in a good mood today.
Mikey and I erected the dangerously annoying tents for the 600th time.
I made an announcement.
"One more fucking day of this fucking bullshit."
Today the gaunt hipster best boy wore a giant foam dinosaur helmet.
His solemn face was framed by the soft cloth teeth of a T-Rex.
He resembled krazy currency from a day care casino.
He wore it for attention that he didn't want.
Afraid to grow up, I guess.
Wentley told me to move a car.
I got in the car and moved it.
I moved it wrong.
Wentley pointed to where he wanted me to move it.
It would mean running over several grips.
"Do you want me to run them over?" I asked.
Wentley arranged for the grips to accommodate his request.
I guess he wanted me to thank him or something.
I didn't fucking thank him.
I drove the fucking car to the spot he wanted.
I got out of the car.
Wentley stared at me.
"What!?" he yelled.
He held out his arms in anger.
I mimicked his angry arms.
I made a stupid face.
I did the twist.
"What an ass," he said.
"Fuck YOU!" I yelled and walked away.
Afraid to grow up, I guess.
Barge
Don Barge went solo today.
In the middle of shooting, he fired his boom operator.
That's too bad.
I liked Manny.
Manny was affable, professional, and treated everyone with respect.
I drove Manny back to the hotel.
He told me of the horrors he had kept quietly inside himself.
Don joked to Manny about the way Mexicans smelled.
Manny Rodriguez is clearly Hispanic.
Don acted as czar of the hotel room they shared.
He studied his weird war maps for hours.
He demanded silence in the room.
Don observed Manny while he slept.
"I noticed when you sleep on your back with a pillow that you snore. Tonight I want you to sleep on your side without a pillow."
Manny went on about Don and his hateful Tea Party lifestyle.
Don fired Manny because he was Mexican.
And that's all there is to it.
Koo Koo & Choo Choo
Back on set, Dan threw his radio on the ground and stormed off.
Don openly made references to the guns that he owned.
Wentley and I avoided one another.
"EVERYONE HATES EACH OTHER," I wrote in my notes.
It had become obvious that we were all losing our minds.
It was only 1am.
Alex suggested I go out for a liquor run.
We were out in the sticks.
The nearest town was Lucerne.
After 10pm Lucerne is dry.
So I just drove.
I drove to three different liquor stores in three different towns.
They were all closed.
By now it was 2am.
I drove back empty handed.
On the long drive back I listened to a CD.
It was by a band called Choo Choo Establishment.
Choo Choo Establishment features the mayor of Lucerne's son, Spike, on bass.
Spike volunteered as a grip PA a couple of times.
One night after a Choo Choo Establishment gig in Elgin, Spike hung out on set.
We talked shop.
"We just got an offer to play a slot at CMJ."
I was impressed.
He ran back to his car and gave us copies of their CD.
It was a three song EP in the digi-pak format.
Again, I was impressed.
Digi-paks are investments.
I put in the CD on the deserted stretch of Route 38.
They didn't sound like a CMJ band.
It sounded like an 80's beer commercial.
Is this smooth jazz blues lite?
Yes, they could play their instruments.
That was a rhythm guitar.
That was a harmonica.
That was a drum break.
But why would they play them like that?
No one knew why.
Then the vocals kicked in.
Dooown here on the corner lookin' for some chaaange...
Whoa.
Did he just actually sing that?
What...
Wait.
Hold on.
The mayor's son is out on the streets of Lucerne begging for change?
Why, so he can go get a soda at 10:30pm?
Saxophone solo.
I could only smile.
Then I laughed.
This horrible music was cheering me up.
I almost listened to it twice.
Back on the set the energy remained ugly.
Alex was bummed that I hadn't gotten any liquor.
"Did you try a gas station?"
Nope.
The burden of life's real events began to weigh on me.
Alex took notice.
"You look shell shocked. Like you've just seen a murder."
He had caught me thinking about actuality.
"This is pointless and boring," I said flatly.
Choo Choo Establishment had tricked me into temporary happiness.
Tricks never work.
Logan's Fun
It was Logan's last night.
He was getting drunk by himself in the talent RV.
While setting up a shot, I observed Don shove Holli off balance.
It was Don's horrible way of joking around.
Scary, forceful and highly inappropriate.
We dished about it in the RV.
Logan overheard and joined in the conversation.
The sun was coming up.
"Are you guys talking about Don Barge?"
It is considered unprofessional for the crew to talk shit in the presence of the talent.
But this night was far from ever being professional.
"Yeah."
Logan proceeded to tell us that Don Barge is a legend.
He appeared in the film American Movie.
Logan reeled off some more information in a flurry of booze-happy excitement.
Meanwhile, Britt was being dragged through the dirt screaming.
I couldn't tell if she was acting or if Don had officially lost it.
Who could tell what reality was anymore.
Everything was awful.
Verdict: Loss
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