Countdown

Winding down, 3 days left.  Yesterday a frustrating one of discovering a handful of shots (not really really necessary) I seem to have failed to get into the computer, and cleaned the SDHC cards instead.  Exhaustion makes you stupid, it seems.  A File Scavenger attempt hasn’t come up with them.  And then lining up an actress/person and a place for a final scene hit some scheduling bumps.  Plus a little too long-term “camping together” friction had soured the atmosphere the last few days.  So, rather tired myself, and with the philosophical view that “if it ain’t fun, can it,” I was of a mind to call it quits on this little folly.  We did manage to shoot a single take of Ryan, which, if it stays in, will tax the viewer’s mind-set: a 24 minute shot of Lee Harris as he tries to get to sleep the night before he’s out to “do his thing.”

Prelude to a killing (or two).   A few days earlier we managed several other sequences/shots, of the serendipitous kind I have learned to rely on:  one, the purchase of a gun at a pawn shop, Bruce and Bob’s Good Guy Pawn, got a quick OK from the owner, Bruce Hemphill, and when we wandered in on Saturday to shoot, his son, Peter, a natural actor, was manning the desk.  We did 3 or 4 real-time shots, with two cameras, and during them some customers came in, totally ignored the film equipment, and went on with their business without batting an eyelash.   Then the owner’s daughter Brittany, came in and we asked if she’d be in a bar scene: she said yes and we went to a rough bar in Walkerville (after a more upscale one said yes, but didn’t want us to shoot at the actual bar), and got a scene there.   Plus perhaps something more.

 

Monday morning, up reasonably early, on computer, trying to make sure no further messes occur thanks to technical errors, and, well, frankly, an overload of work: I am thinking up, production managing, shooting, recording sound, doing a shit job of logging material into computer, editing, and overseeing my little cluster of people.  Single-handedly.  And doing this blog. (And a mess of other things, including being a den-mother.)  No wonder I fuck up.   On doing this morning’s dubious chore discovered I am also now minus, thanks to renaming or something, several little shots for Coming to Terms.  Whoopeee…

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