Showing posts with label perils of life and how they crush my noblility of spirit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perils of life and how they crush my noblility of spirit. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

One hope I certainly hope



In Swimming to Cambodia, Spalding Gray relates his experiences as a featured player in The Killing Fields. He says that the director of TKF, Roland Joffe, had one of those pre-shoot meetings with the cast and crew to talk about what an important film it was that they were going to make, and generally got everyone geared up. See, this depresses me.



I have never been in a film (not even the long mooted shot-for-shot remake of Unzipped the Bride has repeatedly proposed [Chooch as ALT! YES!]), but I can only feel for people who are in movies that they know, when arriving on set, will be shit.



This springs to mind because I saw a poster for some Mr Popper's Penguins with Jim Carrey coming out, and then I could not clear my mind of some speech that some producer or the director might have made, about how this kids' movie would be different and become a favorite of generations' standing and aren't we all lucky to be here, etc. Fruit baskets sent to and fro, and wine! "Notes" exchanged...ugh!

I just hope that no such speechifying happened, and that the director merely tweeted, on morning of first shooting, "I'm as depressed as you all are. Moreso. Still, let's do this piece of shit."


I won't go Hollywood (obvs)!

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

BORING


Okay, so I am on two medicines. NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHAT THEY ARE, NOSY!


Anyway, over years of being on them I have occasionally missed a dose (heh) here and there -- weekend away, forgot to take, what have you, to the point that I am fully two weeks apart between the two. This is the worst, because it means an extra trip to the drug store and waiting around (and yes, even as an old man, I understand that I can call in or order online -- no matter, the wait still involves somebody wanting to tell me about "puttin' their boat up," or a fidgety nine-year-old with surly meth-mom shrieking "Put that fuckin' thing down, Jayden!", etc).


SO, I guess my concern is, what with insurance folderol, how can I get the two meds back in sync? The drug store staff, when this comes up, and I've been trying to figure it out for a couple of months, give me blank looks like I've just said "hey, can you transmute this keychain into the purest, purest GOLD?" I called the doctor's office and asked them. They are supposed to shirtsleeve it around the office and see who salutes.


Anyway, WEAK!