I’m currently sitting at the entrance to an enormous furniture warehouse filled with stuff I couldn’t even begin to afford. At the far end, Ben is taking stills of Monique Alexander on a $4,600 sofa, which she’s going to get fucked on for Naughty America. Everyone is taking a beating in this economy, and the owners of this high-dollar store are happy to get a few extra hundred for giving us the location.

I was going to post an in-depth review of Inception, which is, without doubt, one of the most spectacular and original movies I’ve seen in my lifetime. I would fuck that movie if I could. But I’m far too distracted by the knot in my gut.

Instead, I’m writing as therapy, trying to relieve the mounting stress of an increasingly ridiculous life. As I take on more and more work, consistently making less for doing more, watching the bills pile up as the income dwindles, I wonder when I will finally crack. I’m not being melodramatic. This isn’t a growing panic but rather an idle concern, like guilt over not going to the dentist.

I’m trying to pay attention to the band playing Nearer My God to Thee as I rearrange the deck chairs.

Last week I worked four of the hardest days I can remember for Burning Angel, shooting and gaffing Joanna’s Angels 3 for Joanna and James Deen. 2 16-hour days, an 18-hour day and a 20-hour day, and practically every minute of it, I was on my feet and running around. I didn’t just feel old when we wrapped, I felt ancient.

To make matters worse, I’ve agreed to edit the movie. This wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that I haven’t finished cutting Kiss of the Strangler, which is turning out great, but taking far too long. Hot Video have been very understanding about it, but for how long? JA3 has a rigid due date in a little over 2 weeks, so it’s going to demand every moment I can devote to it.

Except that I’m going to Florida for four days to shoot Tristan Taormino’s documentary right in the middle of that 2 weeks.

Oh, and I still have to work my NA job, just to keep body and soul together.

Okay, instead of relieving my stress, putting this in black-and-white has sharpened it to a keen edge. Bad idea.

I’m fucked.

Well, as the saying goes, when the going gets tough, the tough go fishing, so I’m having a last gasp attempt at recreation this weekend. Tomorrow, Mischief & I are going up the coast to see a band she loves in Santa Barbara, staying overnight, and then banging around the coast until Sunday evening. We planned this over a month ago. If I had any sense I would have canceled. As it is, I’ll be curious to see if I can even pretend to relax.

Afterwards, I’m essentially going to have to tell her – and everyone else in my life – to forget that I exist for a few weeks and try to dig myself out of the hole I’m in.

Either that, or pull it in after me.

3 Responses to Just Another Average Iceberg

  • Freiherr Karza von Karnstein says:

    This may be small comfort, if it is any comfort at all. However, you are one of the rather few amongst us geeks who, when he looks at the extras of Doctor Who (Doctors 1-7) DVD’s, can say “Low budget? Long days? Piddling pay? Been there, done that!”

    At the end of the tunnel, when “Kiss of the Strangler” and “JA3” are released, I will be sure to buy them. There are few things these years that are better than “Inception.” An Eli Cross film is one of these few things.

  • Honey West says:

    Your writing somewhat reminds me of my favorite author James Ellroy.
    If you haven’t, you should read his book “My Dark Places”…L.A. noir at its best.

    Santa Barbara is nice but pricey as hell. I stayed in a hotel for two nights $350/night and got a room with a broken bathtub faucet , a leaky iron, and a view of a slum parking lot with laundry hanging on a line. And this was at one of the best beachfront hotels in town. My mistake, I now realize you only get a working bathtub for $500+. By the time I left, Motel6 was lookin pretty good… anyway, I hope your time there was okay …you deserve it.

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