Photo shoot

I get nauseous when I'm about to shoot. I think a lot of people work with the same people all the time for moral support. I know I love to have a my makeup artist with me. It makes models comforted by the fact that there is another female face around. The two I use are just so wonderful with the "talent." It takes the heavy lifting off me. Most of the time gauging someone's sense of humor off the bat is godawful. I really have no idea. I can be myself, but a lot of time "myself" entails making racist rants or Dad jokes. Obviously I'm not that clueless, but these types of disarming thoughts percolate in my dumb head. What does it visually look like? A guy with gritted teeth smiling like a moron. To which most people most likely think "Who's this retard and what's he smiling about?"

I think a lot of people who are secluded act like this. I have an assistant who is really creepy. His face doesn't match his actions. He's a totally nice guy. But as all women understand, "nice guy" is code for "dumb, boring and most like a serial killer." A man of action and adventure just moves.

I do enjoy the novelty of just...shooting. It started to bleed from me recently because...my interest waned. I focused more on writing for another short film. I'm determined to make it work. Another thing is the coordination of this photo shoot. A ton of shit needs to be done. Or at least, in my head it does, so the devil is in the details. I just want things to go smoothly and people to have a good time. Sometimes, and THIS I completely understand, it is like a first date. This girl doesn't know me from Ted Bundy. She doesn't really know my working style. Or if I'm an imbecile. She can just go by my web, credits, Google'd and so forth. If I searched myself online, I'd want to fuck me (cue Buffalo Bill). I'm a complete profession...-ish. I goof around to stave off nerves. I think it translate the same way on a date you go "Do you like...stuff...I like...stuff?" Yeah, power...OFF.

I just love doing creative things. And things change. You really do have to be flexible. And for myself, who is in a brain fog, it's somewhat of an exercise. Or rather torture to have to answer 50 bazillion questions. I've snapped before. When I was in the deepest of drunk/hangover about when I was 28 years old, I was on a feature, where the director was preoccupied with...EVERYTHING but the film. So who do they ask next? A 28 year old who didn't know shit. I finally screamed at a production assistant. Like some crazy guy. I actually recall just feeling terrible on top of being ignorant. I was in the grip of substance abuse. I just couldn't process any more questions. Brain overheated. Also was dehydrated.

These are the dues paid, I guess. But it's weird, that I can't express this past to people without me turning into that fucking asshole that stories are told of in the industry. "That guy is a screamer, watch yourself." I told a friend last night...I understand, though why people who want to make movies go nuts. At a certain point, you can't bullshit people anymore. They've heard it all, and don't care. And you feel like a schmuck trying to fill their overfilled cup. Because you know what a schmuck you sound like. Then you're both doing the "Dance of the Schmucks." It involves a lot of knee bends. What's funnier is that the less crazy of you two is the one that tells the awful miserable truth. Because being upfront with people is pretty foreign.

Anyway, looking forward to this photo shoot this fine Sunday morning. Watch me dance.