What's In My Lungs?

Woke up pre-dawn as I'm apt to do
but this time wheezing & cut-off.
I go through my mental checklist--
>no pizza or cheese the night before
>no undone bedsheet snapping dust everywhere
>no panic attack (that I'm aware of).

Was in the room a good portion of last night
& yesterday eve did get pretty damp outside.
Maybe that's done it?

And here it is noon on Sunday
& I'm still housebound waiting on a phone call
as I denote SFX Ref CD editor handed off to me.
Sunny & orange & puckish out today...
but I have to do my errands,
including this rapidly deteriorating blog.
Boy, I'm just not that interesting
unless you want less filmic detail & more angst.

Frustrating weekend--
>no Sat shoot
>no Sat eve sound mix
>potentially no sound mix today
>Berlin International Film Fest is a no go
(short film cannot exceed 25 mins)
>didn't even do anything last eve w/ the free time
(possibly postponing 'til Mon & Holly Golightly
IF I'm not nightriding in MetroWest)

SO what to write about?
Debris in my nasal passages & airduct?
I guess so.

Grey Day

1:30 in the afternoon
& aside from early AM mist & fog...
no rain.
Was I too quick to cancel today's shoot?
Or is MetroWest a sloppy wet field right now?
I remember a couple months back,
when cameraman & I were wrapping up the final
(the real final)
Model FX for "AERO"...
We took an impromptu trip to downtown Worcester
to scout a potential location for Ad's video.
We took Rte 9 right as it bisects downtown Worcester
& it was pissing rain,
a Greek god staddling the sky & unloading hot liquid needles.
Water came up to the doors,
gesisers blew up past drainage pipes & manhole covers,
people huddled in steakhouse doorways.
I thought we'd wash out to sea.
Flashflooded half a state away to Gloucester or into Maine.
But an hour later we were on the highway,
& by the time we reached Boston...
we were high & dry.

Oops. Sound guy just called,
sounding terrible.
He's flu-struck so no "AERO" mixing tonight...
so that's two cancels.
What's an indie filmmaker to do?
I could go on a tear...
part of me still feels live-wired from last month's fundraiser.
I never relaxed because it was
money money money OR
music video music video music video.
No transitional downtime,
even NIFF get-away which prompted this whole blog return
was less a weekend get-away than a 1-day walk in the rain
(there's that inclement weather again).
But money money money is tight AND
music video music video music video is breathing down my neck.
I rented Tony Curtis "Houdini" from library,
I could go home & watch that.
Wow. That sounds enthralling.
I dunno...
need to meet up w/ editor this afternoon anyway & pick-up SFX ref CD
so I'll dabble a little more here in the coffeeshop,
then go on my merry way.

A Man For Both Seasons

I have a couple music videos slated for late 2008/early 2009--
Ad Frank's "Winterthru" (jaunty 80's synth-pop) &
Sarah Rabdau's "Autumn Spills" (melancholic piano mantra).
These are the last projects I'm co-producing...
seriously.
I can't afford to go this route anymore.
But I've wanted both these gigs for so long now,
I'm not going to squabble.
If this gets me to the Big Boy's Table,
then so be it.
We're shooting w/ Steve's Red camera
& I am VERY excited about that.
Both vids will look slick as heck.

I forwarded Ad all 20 pp. of PDF storboards this afternoon,
& all that inking's paid off.
It looks good.
It looks clear.
It looks...wait for it...wait for it...like a plan.
Had to cancel tomorrow's shoot, though.
We were going to shoot one brief late fall exterior sequence w/ Ad
out in end-of-the-world-Rte 31-MetroWest...
but it's been continuously crappy weather-wise the latter half of this week
& tomorrow looks like no exception.
So we bump for a couple weekends,
& then w/ the temperature no doubt at a breezy thirty degrees...
we shoot in an open field for an afternoon.
The main shoot,
the most ambitious thing I've done so far music video-wise
will be in early Feb 2009.
Puh-lenty of time to plan.

I had a 3 hour meeting w/ Sarah last night to pin down her treatment.
We've been going back & forth over the last 25% for some time,
a couple extremely crucial sequences we haven't quite locked...
& even though I left the meeting last night w/ an outline in place...
I'm still responsible for the details,
the order,
the execution of ideas.
With a little over a month's time of pre-prod before Sarah's Dec shoot,
that doesn't lead me a whole lotta time to craft this.
But I'll do it.

Lot going on,
reminds me why I stopped blogging.
I can write about events,
taking away valuable time before or after the day job...
or I can just DO.
I prefer the latter,
but will keep the daily notetaking going for the month,
I won't quit now.

Grind-House/Grind-Job/Grind-Life (Or I Didn't Even Enjoy Myself Along The Way)

I am a bandit fleeing across the desert,
The weighted packs of gold bullion discarded
one by one.
Lost to the hot, searing sun.
By the time I get to Mexico City,
my well-laid plans & resultant bounty
are lost to the geckos & sand.

I am the sleepy-eyed driver on the highway,
The wind lashing the windshield with gallons of rain.
And I,
stuck behind a SYSCO trailer-truck,
only seeing that
an immediate obstruction...a logo & channeled spray.

I am a minimum payment,
always accumulating late and overdue fees.

I am your old high school room,
the posters curled at the edges
the walls streaked in snot & crayon...
the air crisp with semen.
The dust settling over scripts & index cards
& out-dated contact lists.

I am the worst sweet wine hang-over in your life,
on a Tuesday morning, an hour into the workday...
and the whole week stretched before you
like an open, gabbering jaw.
All the coffee in the styrofoam cups
All the paste-tasting pills
All the internet A.D.D.
Won't save you from the constant W-O-R-K.

I am an unreturned phone call,
a deleted friend
a despondant co-worker
a lackluster family
a nobody entreating you from your past.

I am the septuagenerian
constantly losing his keys or his bankbook
or the obituary cut from the paper.
I am programmed response,
defeatist programming...
telling you "no" and "never" and "get real".
I am in the basement swearing
I am delaying at the front door
I am complaining about the neighbors.

I am your last accounts.

Certain Bills Must Be Paid

What will catch up w/ me 1st?
The loans?
Or will I simply flip my lid?

Time will tell. Just gotta make it through 'til Feb '09...
then the real re-pays can begin.
And the savings. Oh the savings!
I do envision a better life...
these past 5+ years are bogwater.
Thin gravy days & grey sportscoats,
the elbows worn shiny like thatch.
The country's elected a new president
& I could care less
(at least Massachusetts is getting rid of the greyhounds).
My horse-blinders are on...
& all I can see are pale visions of me.
Lukewarm soup & bus air...
I'm a hand-me-down from 1992.
Remember that guy?
OK, maybe he wasn't so swell either
but it was better than this.

I'll be so glad when the collection calls stop.
I'll be so relieved when I'm giddy again-- excited.
Not this extreme suppression of will & persona,
for home & work.
But this is a marathon here, not a jaunt...
You don't get from here to there by wishing it.
No. You meticulously execute
and endure.

We Make Our Own Prisons And I Am Still On Death Row

I've been single for 5 1/2 years.
In that time--
I've gone on 4 dates.
I've been celibate that entire time.
I haven't even kissed a girl since 2003.

That's pretty messed up.

I am horrified by my pattern baldness.
My extra 20 pounds.
My burns.
Girls didn't even notice me in my collegiate heyday
what dame's gonna give me a 2nd look now?

But I won't get fat-- oh no.
20 pounds won't go away by jogging 20 mins every other night,
I can't delude myself that way.
Nor will they scram if I keep eating as poorly & as processed as I do...
But I can't afford a gym membership
(you could exercise in the basement, Fatty)
& my food budget is modest
(but yet you dropped $40 at the comicbook convention this weekend).
I'm not Gigantasaurus by any means,
but I'm lanky...
& a potbelly on a lanky person...
is like a well-placed hickey on the neck.
It sticks out for all to see
no matter how much you nod...or intake.

And the hair...don't get me started on that genetic betrayal.
That's the worse of it.
I'm a vibrant 30something w/ Paulie Walnut's hairline
(OK, no skunk stripes but...)
It was fine hair when I was a child.
Now it's just thin,
thin enough I see the sun through it in the rearview
when I drive the worktruck.
Like folicles in a prairie,
upright threads no girl will run her hand through.
I'd be better off w/ mange.
And I've gone the short but spiky route,
& I even did the (shudder) buzzcut,
my old Oak Square barber running the electric razor straight down my forehead,
like a chattering, chewing depth charge...
I see why the Mohawk Indians valued their hairstyle,
I know why Elvis was his pompadour,
I know the power of rich, verile hair.
The image it projects.
And what its antithesis exudes.

My legs I can do nothing about short of an operation.
I'll always have chicken legs then,
like uncooked, stringy crisp.
Fleshy potholes & waxy veinwork.
If my hair is the equivalent of a 50 year old's...
then my legs are old man's legs.
Geriatric stickpegs.
Again, if this bothered me so much though...
there is plastic surgery.
I could be smooth by now.

So that's the physical deficiencies,
& they are doozies.
But I'm also cognizent that those can be excuses
for the real deals--
My fear
My mistrust
My self-hatred/lack of success
My laziness.

So this is my rationale--

I cannot have a social life until I am successful in my chosen career.
I must have money or stature or power or fame to attract women.
My standards are incredibly high & unrealistic
so only the above attributes will help me achieve said women.
Hence, w/ any or all of the above lacking...
I am unattractive.

Like I said, pretty messed up.

Sometimes You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do To Get Things Done

Final 4 pages storyboard-- done!
Location scout Bradley Palmer State Park & Route 1N (Topsfield)-- done!
Picked up DVD copy of Begman's "The Magic Flute" for reference-- done!
Brainstorming list of 20 items for Thursday music video meeting-- done!
E-M's to crew for Saturday shoot prep incl. playback issue-- done!

Jog-- just as soon as I post this :>

Family Function

Sitting around my brother's condo this weekend,
the living room a fusillade of brightly hued children's toys
and Chinese food.
My nearly 3-year old niece just escorted upstairs for both
bath & bed.
The Cormey men left behind on their sofas,
with forks and leftover birthday cake.
My dad, my brother & me...
chat up this relative & that.
All of it distant hearsay,
all of it dated or woebegotten, hand-me-down information.
Uncle Bob in Harverhill nursing home,
had a relapse but recovered.
Cousin Debbie married 3 times, the 2nd husband odd &
full of Uncle Bob nervous tics.
Cousin Debbie kind of giving my brother the brush-off when
he went to visit her in Amesbury many years ago,
to retrieve his wedding gift.
Aunt Pat--
well that's a whole other log.
But my dad's always good for an hours' worth of Aunt Pat complaints.
Aunt Rita & her "needling me" story.
And Uncle Jack
(my mother's brother Uncle Jack,
not the other literal "Brother" aka "Monsiguer"
who wrote my dad that I'd grow up to be alone & friendless)
well he wasn't kidding when he told us youngsters MANY years ago,
at one of Grandma R's Christmas parties:
"You won't be seeing much of me".
No one has.
He could still be selling washing machines in some Avalon-like Lechmere
somewhere...
And no one can reach Aunt Joannie...
you either get voicemail or Danny or Mikey,
running interception.

It's all so depressing,
no extended family to speak of.
My mother's side curt & cut-off
(even w/ Aunt Pat living next door!)
& my dad's side...
well the Cormey's were never tree-huggers
or human-huggers.
It was ediquette & poise & WASP'y Longmeadow-like demeanor.
My brother's side of the aisle at his wedding,
was embarrassingly bare.

I'm OK w/ it, I suppose.
Tim & I were always the youngest amidst the cousins & kin,
a whole generation loomed over us @ the get-togethers.
I'd be on the floor in Grandma R's dining room,
playing w/ my Leggo's
while Uncle Ronnie & Cousin Sherrie's husband, Tom,
and the men's men...
hung back in the narrow wedge-like kitchen
& drank their canned beers.
Or if we made one of those rare visits to The Wilsons estate,
it was rarified air & Uncle Bob trailing my brother & I around
the house,
making sure we didn't pick anything up
or put our Ginger Ale down of the linoleum...
or something petty like that.

So I've grown up for the most part,
family-less.
I've had to embrace the solitude
because there's never been back-up.
All that died in the late 80's.
My brother is steadily building his support network
of wife, children, home.
Me?
I have comic books & big dreams,
getting the hell out of Dodge & this pedestrian life.
I have no one who depends on me,
& that's fine.
Because the experience is mutual.

Saturday Prep

I'm shooting next weekend!
And again next month!
YIKES!
Didn't I just have a Film Fundrasier/Sneak Preview screening?
Don't I have a ton of soundwork to do for SXSW Nov deadline?
Don't I owe Steve & Jason & Colby & Michael mo' money?
Don't I have Best Buy & Bank of America & CitiFinancial & Applied Bank
calling me 3-4 times a day?
And aren't I so very far behind at work?
And feeling more burnt-out than ever before?
Yes to all of the above...
but time stops for no man.
I've committed to a couple new music videos,
the optimistic POV being that the fundraiser would raise all sorts of money
& I'd actually be able to use my bi-weekly paycheck
to pay my personal bills--
oh like the (2) "AERO" loans going back to 2002 & 2005 respectively
that I'm some 8 months delinquint.
And that @@#%%!!! Best Buy card that I used to purchase my HP Pavillion laptop
so many many many years ago...
still can't manage to snip that bud.
So I'm stretching the moneyclip pretty taunt
& in these tough economic times
I guess that's not a rarity.
Still, I'll feel a lot better once 2009 kicks in
& these last couple projects are done & I can catch-up
and pay off
and (shudder!) save for life changing times.

So in the meantime I do what I can do
ever so slowly.
Pay this crew person & that
a modest portion.
And work on more storyboards
& get ready for tomorrow's meeting.
Chipping away...doing what I can.