Tomorrow I'm going to be a year older. 44, I think. I'm so bad with numbers that I have to look at my drivers license to know what year I was born in.
When I was a teen, I would think of my future. But never did I push my fantasy beyond 40. In all candor, I didn't expect to live this long. There were all manner of things readied to take me out in the ensuing years. Asteroids, robot insurrection, global plague, nuclear winter, or my own dark moods. But mostly, I couldn't imagine myself older than 40, because I'd no longer have that connection with youth. You know, I'd be an old man.
Fuck…. Where are those damned robots?
I don't have the luxury to wallow in self-pity. I need to prepare myself for the first day of shooting on the new Nations Entertainment Group's feature this Saturday. For some idiotic reason, they've decided that the first day of production will run 18 hours. Someone forgot to read that first paragraph in just about every “so you wanna make a movie?” book.
It usually goes something like this:
“Congratulations, you novice mogul, you. You're well poised to be the next Howard Hawks! Just make sure that the first day of shooting is slow and leisurely. Nothing complicated. Not an over-load of pages or set-ups. You want to start things off with your cast and crew loving the experience. So you go, tiger. You go. Make a movie!”
Mark my words, someone's gonna get tossed over that balcony at the location in Seguin.
I just haven't figured out who it's going to be.
All I can say is there'd better be plenty of coffee. So, Mr. Ansley, don't hoard the stuff, or it's over the rail before the egrets lift their first wing of the morning.
But I will do my best to keep my name out of the police blotter in the Seguin Gazette-Enterprise.