I seem to remember August as a relatively uneventful month. Hot, sticky days, not much work, little of incident going on. Whatever else you can say about August of 2013, it ain’t that.
Between Cowboys & Engines, x3sixty (for whom I’m producing and directing several segments for the Showtime broadcast of the Sex Awards), the next two Vivid superhero parodies I’m prepping to shoot in Vegas at the end of the month, scheduling color correction and commentary recording for one mainstream project, and then planning for a huge, as yet secret project I’m doing with Axel, I’ve been a little occupied.
That being said, I’m trying to make time to do things other than sit in my office for 18 hours every day. Whenever possible, I’ve decided to live my life as if I were actually alive. To date, this plan has had its ups and downs.
Last Sunday, I took the Unicorn to see Pacific Rim in IMAX, and we had a great time. She’s smart, funny, filthy and gorgeous. As we’ve been feeling around the edges of where our mutual boundaries are, I’ve divulged a few things I haven’t really been comfortable sharing with anyone, and she’s taken it in stride and responded in kind. We’re getting together again next week, and I think she’s looking forward to it as much as I am.
(A quick aside; I haven’t posted a review of Pacific Rim, but here’s the short answer: It’s a blonde in a biker bar… pretty, loud, dumb as dirt, and a lot of fun.)
On Monday evening, RHK & I got dinner, and watched American Movie, a documentary that breaks my heart because there are so freakin’ many parallels between the lives of me and Mark Borchardt, the subject of the doc. It’s a brilliant film, but it kills me to watch it. Still, RHK loved it, (I knew she would) and afterwords, we spent a couple of hours talking and eventually making out on the couch before I had to take her home (she was catching a flight). Even though it was basically starting something we couldn’t finish, it was awesome. RHK is brilliant and funny and sexy, and how much I like her makes what happened yesterday that much more frustrating…
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Tuesday was all about work, and led up to a last-minute meeting in Hollywood for a project I haven’t really talked about. I’m up for a gig to go to Hong Kong for 12 weeks as the Director of Photography on a mainstream SF film. This was my fifth serious meeting with the director to talk about it, and I’m starting to get incredibly excited about the prospect. The problem is, while I’m 1000% confident in my ability to do the job, and kill it, I don’t really have the resume. But the director (whom I’ve worked with before) really wants me, and he’s pushing. Next month, I have to meet with the producers and sell myself, which just comes with the territory. It’s highly unlikely I’ll get the job, but I’m damn sure gonna try.
The problem is, I’ve started to want it. And that’s bad.
Here’s the thing; even if I get the job, these productions fall apart at the last minute all the time. That isn’t me being negative or pessimistic. Ask anyone who’s spent any time in the film business, and you’ll hear the same story. Everything is bullshit until there’s money in the bank, and on a film where you’re supposed to travel, it’s bullshit until you get off the plane and there’s someone from the production there to meet you.
At this stage, even contemplating actually getting the job and having it happen is just climbing higher to make sure the fall is longer. As John Cleese says in the film Clockwise, “It’s not the despair. I can take the despair. It’s the HOPE.”
Yesterday, I went to Phoenix Askani’s birthday party at the Viper Room. As I was headed out the door, I asked RHK if she wanted a ride, since I knew she was going. I picked her up and we talked the whole way , like we do. It was nice.
We got to the Viper Room to find a lot of industry friends including Joanna Angel (who was sponsoring the party), Danny Wylde (whose band with Chad Alva, The Chiildren, was playing the event), Wolf Hudson, Arabelle Raphaelle, and Aiden Starr, who is my favorite tiny person in the entire world. I made a conscious effort not to hover in formation with RHK, and let her do her own thing, stepping in only once to help run interference with a fan who was a little over-excited to meet RHK’s porn self.
Red showed up, and I spent some time talking to her about her life, the acting lessons she’s taking, and her tumultuous relationship with her absentee boyfriend. RHK had vanished half an hour before, and as I stepped outside to talk with Aiden and Danny, I actually texted her to see if she was okay. A few minutes later, she materialized from somewhere, gave Aiden a huge hug, stopped to talk to Danny, and then climbed into an Escalade parked at the curb and was gone.
“Did she really just leave? What the fuck was that?”
“Yes,” I said, confused. “Yes she did.”
“Did you drive together?”
I nodded. Aiden looked at me. “What did you do?”
“I have no fucking idea.” Suddenly, I was back in Junior High, getting ditched by the cool kids as they hurried off to where the real party was. Now feeling like an enormous chafed asshole, I made my excuses and headed home.
It’s not as if we were on a date. I get that. And maybe I’m just too fucking old for this game, but I can’t help feeling not even saying goodbye — or anything at all, for that matter — to the person you came with is just massively inconsiderate.
Still, I have no right to be angry (nor do I think she would care if I were). She owes me nothing, and I’m nobody of any significance to her. I will never be the friend she’s excited to see; I’m just the friend she’ll spend time with when every other option has fallen through.
For RHK, I’m a friend of convenience, which is a disappointing realization.
I refuse to be anyone’s Plan C.