From The Hollywood Trenches

Recently a co-worker of mine quit to go into being a production assistant (P.A.) on a reality t.v. show. If you know the business, this position is usually designated to a third year college student who trades slave labor for a couple of school credits. It's win-win. Win on their part for education of a working production. Win on productions part for free labor.

Unsoundly, this guy I worked with is near 30. Now I can hear a bunch of you guffawing about following your dream. And he's doing what he wants to do and blah blah blah. I get that. But there are calculated risks. And THIS is not one of them.

First, personality aside, working as a P.A. is equivalent or worst than the assistant to a janitor. At least the janitor has experience to tell you what to do the most efficient way possible. YOU on the other hand are the whipping boy. On a movie set, it usually entails stopping poor pedestrians on the street from getting into a shot. Or halting traffic. Or getting everyone food. Or massaging aging actor's bunions. OR...well, there's no true description since, in essence, you are EVERYONE'S bitch. I recall a bunch of film school friends working on "Swordfish" that glorious crap shat out by Travolta and minions. They were on side streets stopping traffic so that they can hover over downtown Los Angeles with a bus attached to a helicopter. My friend said they had to halt traffic. One particular woman he stopped was begging to get by since her child needed their medication. I'm serious. This lady was stopped from medicating her child, so that a stunt could be performed. How do you explain this? How stupid is that? My film school bud quit the next day.

At a certain part in life, hopefully sooner than later, you develop a sense of self-worth. When you're young, you shouldn't have it. Even though punk kids these days feel entitled to everything, that is the best time when you should be taking these types of punches. Instead, we're talking about Larry Holmes post-Ali, going back into the ring. Which is fine. But don't say I didn't warn you.

To be perfectly honest, I've never been a P.A. I've worked in the middle, got to the upper-middle, then went back down to middle. And would say now, mid-middle. BUT I have treated and have seen treated P.A.'s with the type of behavior you wouldn't treat a dog. It's a terrible place to be. Woe be to you when they start paying you (minimum wage). Because when you work for free, everyone is kind. They throw you even a scrap of coin, you are now fair game.

Personally, my behavior to P.A.'s weren't as shitty as my contemporaries. They loved that empowerment, since half the time, they're being yelled at. So it all trickles down. For me, I'm usually too tired to acknowledge it. I remember one time a P.A. brought me lunch into a trailer where I was having a meeting. We were about a day behind in a boxing arena set. The director, me (cinematographer), 1st AD, producer and whomever else were just blabbing about how late it's been. And how we haven't even got off the first shot. I remember a plate being slid underneath me. And I just glared at the person. Everyone in the room sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher. I was so exhausted and angry I couldn't even eat In fact, I specifically told them NOT to bring me food (how stupid does that sound). Yet, here it was in front of my face. I'm 26 years old, mind you. The P.A. was roughly in their very low 20's. The anger poured through me. I just put my fist into the plate squashing what looked like potatoes and a half chicken. The P.A. was shocked. I wiped my hand off with the shot list. And push the plate away from me. For which she quickly removed.

Yeah, that's what to expect.

But...to my-co-workers benefit, and I wish him well...if you have the restitution to deal with shitbags who do shit like that (which I've abused this person in the past), then you will go far in this business. If you feel life is too short to deal with (what amounts to) really juvenile self-aggrandizing crap, in the small window of opportunity to move up in the business, then P.A. is for you.

There is a reason why no one from my film school (aside from myself) moved forward in the movie business.

The Art Of Not Feeling

Lately, I've been feeling very numb to everything around me. Nothing really matters anymore, and I think I'm just too stupid to care. I don't care about hot chicks anymore. I don't care about starting up a career in movies anymore. Hell I go to the gym throw in an episode of "Entourage" and watch people reaching for the brass ring while being surrounded by the beautiful people of Hollywood. I don't fucking care. Nor, does it bother me that I don't fucking care. Well, I guess it kinda' bothers me that I don't care, but at the same time...I've got no real anger for it. All I can feel now is a faint tinge of who I was before.

I think there's going to come a time in your life where these types of feelings and memories start to fade. I wasn't convinced that it would happen before I turned 40. But I'm sure my drinking had a lot to do with dulling my emotions. Emotions are shitty things. Until they are taken away. I sense that most people function on a lot of emotion. Live for emotion. That's the stuff that hope is made of. I'm really not invested into it anymore. I think I should feel something. But I don't.

I suppose people would call this depression. I dunno. I think in the midst of it all, I don't feel depressed. Just...blah. Everything is blah. And I've lost some equilibrium. I'm in a fog. And it's a bummer, because I kinda' wanna feel something again. Remember the movie "Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind." When his memories are being erased, he clings onto them the best he can. I can see where that comes from now. I feel that each day a different memory fades, and I know I'm suppose to feel something, but I don't. Which causes feelings of emptiness.

The other day, I started up on a feature script I'd had written roughly (and ironically) 40 pages of. Then I just stopped. I went back to read the last page. And I forgot why I stopped or what I felt like as I was writing. It just went dead. I read back to what I wrote, and for the life of me...have NO idea what was the original spark of interest that would have me write 40 pages. I felt...maybe some...excitement. But none exists now. It's kinda' dark. And re-visiting now, I felt almost as if to re-purpose it for how I'm feeling now. No es bueno. What I got was just a hollow shell of writing. No energy, effort or drive. Almost as if I knew the mechanics of writing, can piece letters together for words. But zero...absolutely zero heart. I'm not sure if this is the norm for now on, but it really sucks. And I do hope that somewhere out there others may read this and realize that if they feel the same way, they aren't alone. What was the purpose of life? What questions did I need answered? Why start something only to have it fade out? These are all things at the back half of life, I may need to probe. For the time being, I'll keep making art. Maybe that will cure some of the emptiness.

I Turned 39

Heya folks,
Today I turned 39 years of age. One step closer to hit 40. I wonder about how I felt about people in their 40's when I was a kid. And it was ancient. I mean, by the time I would reach 40 a lot would happen. Mostly hoverboards would whisk me away to Canada. Or some weird shit like that. Didn't happen. Which blows. You know sucks the worst. When they don't ask to see I.D. at bars anymore. You know you're ancient then.

It's kinda strange how people put a label on powers of 10 b-days. Women go nuts at 29. Seems like. I've had two separate female friends who've dug deep before they hit 30. Then we have the culture that says you are the age of what you think you are. Ha! Tell that to my achy bones and rotting teeth.

Anyhow, I do enjoy being older. A little pained that certain things haven't worked out the way I imagined it. But if I stopped to tally everything I've done up to this point...it's really not been a wasted life. I think there's been a lot of moments of fulfillment that I can take to my grave.

The other day I got a company email that a co-worker had died. This was at another facility. I knew her. Saw her everyday. She was the nicest, smiliest person at our miserable company. You can see in her very young life that she suffered the fools with a smile. Would chat me up with her small but functional English. It struck me since...it was so sudden. She was 27. Didn't even make it to that point. She left with a husband and child. I left that facility when she was still pregnant and we chatted about that. I offered her the name of "Tomasino." Seemed regal enough. She laughed. The two years I knew her, she never came in doom and gloom. Just did her job and left.

I worked in an area that was very clinical and cold (both in temperature and demeanor). And somehow seeing her come in and empty the trash, it was a bright moment in the day. I had no romantic intentions in the least. Just some people are like that.

I think about the 11 years I've lived beyond her. If you consider that she had a purpose and something to live for, I do feel a little guilty that I think she would've done/lived her life with greater focus than I've squandered in the same amount of time. I feel her daughter would've grown up and they'd live a more precious life than the meandering/dream killing existence I've lived. It made me put into perspective that we all need to NOT waste it with petty stupid things and chase the things that make the moments we have tolerable.

There was that saying there is suffering with chasing your dreams. In fact, I'm sure there's a alleyway full of homeless people that felt the same way at some point. I think fear of success means having it taken away. The tragedy of when everything goes right and it is ripped from your life. There's a scene in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" where James "007" Bond finally gets the girl, Marries her. Wants to leave MI6. And is happy. (SPOILER ALERT) Only to have her gunned down. From that point on, he is more or less, an unhappy miserable angry person, who seems to now bring pain to others. I think that part of him spoke to me the loudest. Even the most battle-hardened secret agent lets his guard down and the happiness is ripped away when he least suspects. I feel people fear this the most. Which is why they angrily hang on to what they've built (family, house, friends).

As I turn 39 today, I think of my future and how adversity will test me. I have enough years behind me to cope. A few years ahead to change it.

Friends In Hi-Low Places

I've been catching up with a lot of television lately. Mostly, older series that have ended their run. Which is where I pounce. Since I can't stand waiting a week for the story to continue. Also, I don't have Netflix, Hulu or even internet at home, so it's difficult for me to really set a schedule to watch it, if it's not in bulk. I decided to give "Entourage" a shot. Since it has a lot of Los Angeles locations. And I have this strange excitement of seeing where productions have shot. I know, lame and fanboy-ish, but I'm not from here, so I think I should get a pass.

Anyways, it turns out I've worked with two actresses from the first season. This was shortly after film school and my friend Doug and I had huge aspirations. Doug being the director, and me being the cinematographer. It was really great to remember them when. So it got me to thinking how far removed I am from that system.

I recall being so passe about the whole experience. Like it would never end. Of course I'd always have a hot Guess model in front of my lens. Of course, people would be clamoring for whatever we do. Of course, it will launch me into the next level of cameraman. How could it not? They're success must rub off on me.

Cut to:
2013
I'm physically frothing at the mouth trying to convince a lowly vault worker at the post house I work at now that I was someone once. Now...I'm not sure what was more pathetic. That I was naming off my credits or that I thought this would somehow make me feel important again. It was sad.

Then it dawned on me...Everyone thinks you are what your position is at the moment. Lemme be more clear, you can't tell people you played Brad Pitt's brother when you're flipping burgers at McDonalds. It's just never going to earn you respect.

See, the issue was, there are a ton of aspiring people in this town. They believe you are on their level. Because you actually talk to them. Or at them anyway. And so you are mortal. As they are. Meanwhile, your ego can't stomach this and you really wanna punch them. Because deep down, you've suffered almost a decade on dealing with celebrity, and a taste of the limelight and here you stand, listening to their hopes and dreams as if you give a shit. Which is where you really wanna vomit on yourself from biting on your tongue. A hater, such as myself will mutter "good luck" under my breath. But the dreamer that died years ago will say "yay, go get 'em, tiger!"

Look, if you are asked to do one of their projects and you know you're overqualified, but still take on the project that's on you. You've now set your bar to whatever they want to set it at. Not what you set it at.. Your value is only how you value yourself. And in these cases, people will constantly undervalue themselves, in order to get the gig. Silly...I know.

An important lesson to learn in any field of life is that you are worth EXACTLY what you price yourself to be. If you sell morals, ethics and self-esteem for pennies, you cannot complain that you're not getting paid your worth, because you took the gig.

There's a dick swinging contest here in L.A. It starts with the unspoken "I'm better than you because ______" (fill in the blank). This will lead to great bitterness. But is part of all competition. I mean, what is the difference between saying that and "I'm unique from you because _______" I guess tonal shift. Same thing though. You possess something no one else has. Probably a fire in your gut to stand by your stupid vision. In the end, you have to remind yourself that you play make-believe like a retarded kid. In fact, retarded kid is probably better at it than you. That's the reality of Hollywood.

I went to a bar with a friend recently. I ran into a person I thought I knew. She said "hi." I was confused. Sort of recognized her. I nodded to her and said her name, more as a question as in "don't I know you from somewhere." In which case her response was (scoff) "...why do you think I said hi to you?" In other words, why would I say anything to your ugly stupid face if I didn't know you. See, everyone wants to feel important in this town.