Monday, August 21, 2006

At work again here, at the office gig. There just isn’t any work to do so I put Mahler on and I’ve been going over monologues in my head and writing. I feel old and unaccomplished, I feel like driving off a cliff. I simply just don’t have the balls. Hemingway, you had balls. Plath, you had balls. Fabian, you’re nothing. I have no idea why I feel such guilt that I do nothing here at work all day. The bosses walk in through my office to use the fax and I scramble pretending to look busy but we both know I’m not up to anything. I know they hear me typing and I wonder what they think I’m doing. I wonder if I’ll ever get fired.

We filmed a scene for the commercial for the “Bass Dog Collar” that will be in the DVD extras. We spent two hours with my weight bench in the alleyway next to my apartment. My neighbors started yelling at me. We were making tons of noise, the scene was absurd. I found myself and the other actor, our shirts off and pumping iron in the alleyway grunting loudly and getting really gay on camera for two hours to get about a minute of usable footage. Then we did some test shots for the chase scene for the other film. We’re holding call backs at my place tomorrow. They want to do top shots for the other film as well in the apartment. Moving the furniture is going to be a pain in the ass. Hopefully this will all come together and look presentable. I’m not very happy with the way I Kill People for Money turned out even though the festival people pretended to like it so much. Serena came over and argued with me for a couple days this weekend. It’s all really messed up here.


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