January 6th, 2011

Van Gough livelongandprosper

Your daily random, because I are tired

I was up filming until 10 pm in a massive, mostly-abandoned flour mill last night. Three foot thick brick walls, original steel grinding bits, skeery four-storey grain elevator that actually killed someone long ago, etc. Gorgeous place, holy crap was it filthy and COLD. And of course, the costume decision was for me to wear my sleeveless dress and 5 inch heels, no tights. My jaw is still hurting from shivering. I was surrounded by gentlemen, though, and every time the camera cut one of them would offer me a coat. D'aww. (The space is my "husband's" art workshop, and I'm visiting him, trying to get him to focus and work. And make money so I can buy things. That's the kind of gal she is.)

We also shot a teaser for a film that my buddy's looking for financing, and I got to play a stoner kid (lol, um, what?! I left "kid" in my rearview mirror a couple of decades ago. Not unlike that child that I had that pissed me off. Who am I kidding, I didn't even look in the rearview mirror for him, and he knows why) that got attacked, a chain wrapped around my neck and fed into one of the big roller gearworks. AWESOME. But screaming over and over and flailing as you try to fight for your life, and then gurgle out horrid faux blood, and then go slack and hold it.... hold it..... hold it.... wait let me get the focus, hold it..... Okay, CUT! is exhausting. But totally fun, don't get me wrong, I'd do this every day if I was able to do so.

I had to smoke a fake doobie, too, which I wasn't too keen on. It was made of the same stuff James Marsters smoked after he kicked nicotine while filming Buffy. BLECH. I couldn't fake it, either, because they got a close up of me taking a toke, and nothing's worse than someone who isn't smoking on film, but they're "smoking." Nothing is worse, guys, not genocide or stale, lukewarm broccoli water. Okay, maybe the broccoli water is worse, but it's close.

I am on Day Three of Tamale rolling, and I'm so sick of tamales you have no idea. Give me a week and I'll be nomming them, but the smell of cumin and corn meal is getting to me. Last night we had some awesome tacos from a hole in the wall around the corner (those are always the best in my neck of the woods) and I had honest-to-god barbacoa with queso fresco and freshly made salsa verde and borracho beans (drunken beans, mmmm. That's beer-soaked black beans to those not from here.) Holy crap, it was so good, and if I hadn't had to fit back into my dress (and if I wasn't trying to lose this holiday/winter weight) I would have had nine of them. Damn, I love good food.

After this week (more filming all weekend long, yay!) I'm going to buckle down and get back into writing. I miss it, I want to see if I can follow things through, and I just want to prove to myself that I can see these stories I've outlined to the end. The bitter, bitter, red-penned end. :)

GUYS, HEY GUYS. IT'S ALMOST THE WEEKEND. Here, you want a laugh. Yes, you do.

Also, for my own sanity/time management, I'm invoking the right to not reply to comments where there's nothing I can say. Example: I've posted that I love love LOVE the color green, I can't wait to paint my eyeballs green. Comment: "Eh, I don't really like green." or "OMG, I haaaaaaaate green!" Uh, okay? That's one of those "we are at an impasse" moments, right? *thunk* Sorry, only so much time in the day, etc. etc. Bitchy? Maybe. Ehn. (Notice that I didn't post: I love green, I'm soaking my legs in green tinctures, but before I go off and dye my cats emerald, tell me how do you feel about green? Also, can someone help me jam more spinach in between my teeth? GREEN YAY! <3") But that would be an awesome post, you guys. You'd elle oh elle, don't front.