Hollywood Heard

It’s been a strange week. Last weekend I had a small epiphany regarding someone I had thought I was very close to. In reality, they don’t think of me as a close friend at all. At best, we’re work friends or strong acquaintances. I had the actual realization last Thursday, but over the weekend it began to sink in that I was down another friend (even if that friendship existed only in my head). In taking stock, I became aware that I have a total of two people in my life with whom I ever do or discuss anything other than specific work, or the business in general.

Why do I bottle shit up, or rant about it here? Apparently I do it because I don’t have a helluva lot of other options.

Yeesh. That’s gotta change.

Tuesday I had a long-delayed dinner with a girl I’m gonna call XJN, for reasons that will become readily apparent if she becomes a fixture on this blog. Which I hope she does. We’ve known each other for years, but we’d never gone on a date before. Hell, I wasn’t even sure it was a date until we spent a couple hours after dinner just walking around talking. It was easy and fun, and we have a loose plan to hang out on my couch, watch movies and… whatever… the next time I’m free. Sadly, at the moment, that looks to be 2018, but I’ll see if I can’t make room.

Afterwards, I met up with LL and a couple of her friends at a bar in Noho so we could flirt, drive each other crazy, and talk about her relationship, which isn’t going too swimmingly at the moment. She’s working on Cowboys & Engines with me, so I’ll be seeing a lot of her as that goes forward. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to frustrate the hell out of ourselves, which is fine because I love spending time with her.

I spent Wednesday cutting together the re-enactment of a grisly murder from 2006 in which a girl ends up dead in a wheelbarrow, her corpse burned almost beyond recognition. It’s all part of a mainstream project about a private detective in Palm Desert that Hollywood is directing.

Yesterday, I shot a bunch of promo spots for Vivid’s new camgirls site. Today I was focused on getting the audition breakdowns for C&E out, and getting the very basic website with the casting info up. If you’re looking for that, you’re in the wrong place, BTW. Try looking here.

See? Weird week.

My incredibly hot friend JJ is supposed to be in town this weekend, and we’re scheduled to hook up. Haven’t seen her since January, so that would be good.

Things have been quiet with Vega, because she’s been out of town. Way out of town. Since she’s been back, I’ve gotten hints, prods and outright threats regarding getting together. She’s supposed to come over Sunday, but I took a gig doing a Lingerie Football League spot in Vegas Sunday night, so that has to wait. Sorry, hon (god, I’m a dick).

After this weekend, chaos ensues. Work for C&E,  work for other people, work in general. I have one or two more screen tests to shoot for Green Door, a day covering the auditions for Jeff Mullen’s Wizard of Oz XXX (that oughtta be surreal), a prospective date with Ink, and the Sleeping Beauty XXX shoot with Rob Black. And that’s just up till next Sunday.

“Free time” is about to become a foreign concept, but that’s good because that means things are happening. That’s what movies feel like, and I’ve missed it. I used to wake up every morning thinking about a particular girl. Since I made a concerted effort to get over her, I usually wake up thinking about C&E, which is a marked improvement. I’ll take being fixated on this film to being fixated on someone who doesn’t want me any day.

I was about to close with the sentence, “a movie can’t break your heart,” but anybody who’s ever made one knows that is completely untrue. If I had a heart to break, a movie I’m directing would be one of the few things able to do it.

I had several errands to run today, a grand circle tour of the Valley. I always try to plan these things out so I can backtrack as little as possible, and do it all in one day. My first stop was to drop a toy I had been selling for my friend Rob that he sold directly; the second was to loan some tools to K for an art project.

Both things should have been in the garage. Alas, I discovered that someone who had the combination to the padlock (meaning an employee of the management company, or someone the Gas Company meter reader gave the combo to) had come in and removed all my power tools, and all the collectible toys from the box they were in. I believe they knew I was gone (implying the property maintenance) because they took their time.

So now I owe Rob a shitload of money for his toys, and am out about $1,500 worth of tools it’s going to be a pain-in-the-ass to replace. Needless to say, I didn’t start the day happy. Looking on the bright side, though… it saved me two stops.

Professionally, things are moving, albeit slowly. I’m now talking to four different companies about directing. Something has to give. On the mainstream side, a lot is going on, all of it nebulous, most not worth talking about yet.

TQO seems to have blown me off completely, at least for now. I think she’s in love with her ex or something, from what I can glean off Twitter. Saturday night, I went to K&A’s art show in West Hollywood. It was good getting out to see people, something I need to do more often. I’m a lot like an animal. Left alone too long, I eventually cease being domesticated, and it takes a long time to get socialized again. I think I need to make the effort to travel down to ComicCon for a couple days, just for that purpose. I also had lunch with James Deen yesterday, mostly to get the scoop on The Canyons, the Paul Shrader-directed, Bret Easton Ellis-written film he’s starring in, but also to discuss one of those nebulous mainstream projects.

After the art show Saturday, I went to see Vega. Although it’s customary on a girl’s first blog appearance to explain her nom de voyage, in this case, it’s far too convoluted so I’m gonna skip it. I’ll tell you she’s 22, in the business, smarter than most people think, extremely sarcastic, and a filthy whore. When I fucked her in the ass with a knife to her throat, I think she was a little disappointed I didn’t actually cut her. Just a little.

Much to my surprise, she asked me to stay. I was even more surprised that I agreed. She woke me up with a blowjob that turned into buttsex with her squirting all over both of us, which I think is about the best start to a Sunday I’ve had in a long, long time. She asked me to come back last night, but I was in the middle of too many things, and declined. Vega did everything she could to talk me into coming, but I stood firm which led to her response that I have more willpower than sense.

We were supposed to get together tomorrow, but I’m going to Palm Springs with Hollywood to shoot some footage of a private investigator. Don’t ask.

Other than that, I have a date with a girl I’m going to call Ink (she looks like a Burning Angel girl) later in the week that I’m excited about, and I’m sure I’ll see Vega before then.

Meanwhile, about every third night, I wake from a dream in which a particular Girl I’m no longer seeing does or says something to convince me she finds me pathetic, annoying or foolish. This morning, I woke up at 4:30 afterI dreamed I was walking along a cliffside with said Girl when I slipped. I knew I had broken my ankle, and suddenly (dream logic) there was bottomless abyss underneath me. Instead of helping, Girl turned, expressed disappointment, then chuckled to herself as I lost my grip and fell.

Either I need a better mattress, or my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

I grew up white trash. In fact, I come from a long, distinguished line of white trash. My childhood and teen years were surrounded with desert, a house that was built onto a double-wide (with the wheels left on under the house, that way property taxes were dirt cheap), and lots and lots of rusting cars in various states of disrepair.

I worked in my grandfather’s garage on and off for years. Working on cars isn’t fun for me; it’s a chore. I never aspired to own more than one vehicle.

When I got my directing contract after Corruption won its awards, I thought I had finally achieved one of my long-standing goals. I wouldn’t have to haul gear to set anymore. I bought a 350z, partly as a reward, and partly because it has a tiny, tiny trunk.

“Hey, Bryn, can you take the cameras home with you?”

“No,” I would say honestly, indicating the little convertible. “I can’t.”

And then I would drive home, beaming.

Then the contract fell apart, and my primary workload shifted to shooting camera and lighting. MY cameras and MY lights. All I do now is haul gear.

About a month ago, I decided I need a permanent vehicle for this purpose. I found a great Chevy step van (think FedEX truck) for $2k, and bought it. It ran great, has space, racks, etc. A perfect mini grip & electric truck. Almost immediately, my friend Hollywood asked if her could rent it for a low-budget horror movie he was gaffing.

I agreed, at first thinking I would get a little cash out of it. Then, I asked him instead to simply get some repairs done and we would call it even. Fix the broken turn signals. Replace the missing gas pedal. Niggly shit that I just didn’t want to deal with.

I should have known better. Hollywood is my people. We don’t “fix” anything. We just get it working. Half-assed isn’t our slogan, it’s our religion. This is one of the reasons why I’m so frigging OCD; my constant battle against my white trash urge to make do.

Long story short, as I write this I’m sitting at a location in North Hollywood, waiting to have the truck towed because the “mechanic” Hollywood describes as the “Redneck MacGuyver” fucked up the electrical system when he put in the supplemental turn signal unit, and now, the truck won’t start.

Hollywood had a different mechanic come to my place to fix this problem last week. The truck started no problem this morning. Of course, that was then. Whichever wire or harness I cannot find from the starter has now once again vibrated loose, and here I sit.

The tow should be about $250. Getting the problem actually repaired, oh, $350? So I’ve nearly worked for free today.

I’m angry. At myself. I know better than to let certain people do certain things. I cannot seem to absorb the parable of the frog and the scorpion, no matter how hard I try. You do not ask a leopard to change his spots. You do not believe a scorpion will not sting. And you do not allow a redneck to repair something and expect it to stay fixed.

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