I’m writing this inside the closet.
I have officially gone insane.
I’ve got this thing that talks about how to be a director. I got it from a friend of mine. One of the things it says is, directors all have quirks, like talking really fast or looking/acting weird. Well, this can be my quirk. I’ll write my great cinematic masterpiece from the floor of the closet.
It’s so peaceful in here. There’s just enough light coming in from the room that I can see everything around me, plus I have the light coming off of the display on the laptop. The nasty Windows laptop. Blech.
But I digress.
I jokingly told someone the other night that I’d write them a short story, so they could see my writing style. I haven’t done it yet. Maybe tonight. Who knows. It’s hard to just up and write a short story. The inspiration has to strike.
Usually, the inspiration strikes while I’m in the shower.
I’ve thought about taking a laptop into the shower with me, so that my short story can be written where the mood most often strikes me. Unfortunately, that scenario plays out in my head much as I’ll assume it will play out in reality — lying to Staples about why I’m returning my laptop.
A pad of paper and a pen will fare just as poorly. The cost of replacing the pad and pen will be much lower than the cost of replacing the laptop, though. That is, unless I can get Staples to replace the laptop. That would cost me my soul, though.
I got drawn into a religious debate on the Boredom-Induced forums the other day. That’s left me wanting to do yet another religiously-flavored short film. I need to let that one simmer for a few months and hammer out another script.
The script for Addict continues to plague me. Once the B-I Season 3 DVD is done, I know we’re going to have to shoot that script. I already put things in motion to get it done. I just don’t like the damn thing. I don’t know what to do to change it into something I do like. Maybe we just need to shoot it anyway. It won’t be too much effort. I’ve actually got a guy in mind to play the boss.
This requires a little backstory.
Last time I was at the EB Games in Jupiter, we had just finished up a long, arduous day of filming. I can’t remember everything we shot that day, but it was a lot. I think it was the day we shot the Mullet-Zombie skit, along with the Whizzinator 2.
Anyway, we decided to swing by the EB Games in Jupiter on our way to Wal-Mart. We stopped in, and of course we brought the cameras. I don’t leave my camera in the car. It doesn’t happen. Especially not around Jupiter. Those rich white heathens have no soul when it comes to such things.
So there we are, in the EB Games, with our cameras. My camera is rather conspicuous. If you’ve seen it, you’ll know that already. We’re mindlessly wandering around the store, when suddenly, some kids approach us and tell us we can’t have cameras out. I think, okay? Why did some kids just come tell me that? It didn’t take long for the other shoe to drop. A large, managerial type approaches us, and tells us the same thing, although more angrily than the kids.
Except that this fellow was not the manager.
He used to be the manager.
Yes, that’s right. We were verbally acosted by the ex-manager of an EB Games on account of our camera equipment. Our camera equipment that was off, and hanging by our sides.
It all clicks into place.
This “chap”, let’s call him Milton for lack of a better name, continued to verbally abuse us, threatening us with legal action from a corporate entity he no longer represented, and doing everything short of telling us he had slept with our mothers. Actually, I think he might’ve said he slept with YOUR mother.
When he got to the part about us being on surveillance cameras holding our video equipment, my sarcastic apathy kicked in. I held the camera up proudly, for any passing CCDs to see, and proclaimed that no surveillance camera was going to miss this baby.
He walked out, presumably disenfranchised with America’s youth.
I applauded myself for my victory over the former authority of this store, and continued browsing.
It wasn’t until we were about to leave that things got hairy.
In walk two of our friends. What a coincidence! We’re here, and they’re here. That’s strange, running into people. Oh. Wait. Look who’s stepped in behind them? It’s our good friend Milton.
He sees that we know these two people he’s walked in with, and asks them to “tell us he’s serious.” Oh, we get it man. We know.
I ask if he went outside and called them over to chastise us.
Barbs got traded back and forth. I wish we would’ve taped it, just to bask in the sheer irony. I do remember, at one point, he asked me if I was “finished.” Ooooh. Burn. I kick myself to this day for not cracking out a well-timed “That’s what she said.”
Finally, he left.
I totally need this guy in my movie.
I know the girl who works at the EB knows him. I need to get up there tomorrow and see if I can track him down, and find out what his schedule is like.
Maybe he’ll even remember me.
