While I have an ample supply of bruises, cuts, scrapes, burns, etc., to show for my week-and-a-half on set in Alabama, the title actually refers to my ego. Since K left me, about this time two years ago, it’s taken a few major kidney punches. My psyche is pissing blood.

Some is from women; girls I wanted who didn’t want me, or for whom I’m fine as a fuck buddy, but not relationship material (not that I’m looking, but desire is always welcome). I was told a couple weeks ago that “I’m nothing but a bad habit that’s really easy to break.” I think I might get that tattooed on my face.

Professionally, being trapped out here in Possum Fuck has really magnified the sense that the world back home moves on without wanting or needing me. Terminator went off without a hitch at Hustler, largely because nobody involved gave a fuck.

Also, on that set, several people I consider friends had a grand old time sitting around mocking me for a good long while. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t butt hurt to discover I’m nothing but a punchline to people I have a lot of respect for — and whom I thought respected me.

Now, after the plan being to push the last two days of Dark Knight XXX so I could shoot them (I shot the first two before coming to Alabama), it’s simply too much trouble and the shoot will go on as scheduled. This is particularly disappointing because I think that’s going to be a great movie, and I’d really like to finish what I started, whether my co-workers like it or not.

Instead, here I am, working a grunt job for grunt pay and bitching about it on my blog. How emo.

I feel a million miles away from everything I care about.

Whatcha think?

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