James Deen

In a sense, there can be a real benefit to being a day player. Today through Wednesday, I’m shooting second camera on a Wicked feature.  Unlike other projects where I’m the writer or DP, I didn’t have any discussions with the director, I didn’t scout, I didn’t prep. When the shoot is over, I go home and (assuming what I shot doesn’t suck) never hear about it again.

With everything going on in my life, everything I’m involved in, I find this very attractive. I have a strong impulse lately to sharpen my focus on what’s really important personally and professionally, and not sweat the rest.

This is a huge change for me. Normally, I take everything way too seriously. The trick is judging correctly what is and isn’t important. That’s why I make lists.

LL makes lists as well. She has her list of reasons we won’t work, I have mine. She has her list of guys she distracts herself (some more serious than others), I have my hookers, (far fewer than normal, none of whom are serious at all). And all of it is simply the two of us dancing as fast as we can to avoid the issue of “us.”

Because it is an issue. And where it’s concerned, LL & I are… confused… she is terrified of investing in me because I’m a bitter, dissolute, emotionally fucked up disaster. And who could blame her?

For my part, I vacillate between continued belief that we’re incompatible in the long run, and absolute certainty that we’re perfect for each other.

So, yeah. It’s a mess.

To complicate matters, we’ve had a shake-up in the Cowboys & Engines casting, and LL is now my female lead. So no matter what happens, we’re stuck with each other for a while. I imagine she’ll fall madly in love with one of her boy toys just when I decide I really want to get her. Such is my life.

Poduction on C&E has been pushed back to late February. This lets us end the Kickstarter campaign in late January when James Deen will be in Park City doing press for The Canyons at Sundance. I feel a lot better about this than ending the campaign near Christmas.

Overall, I’m thrilled. It’s just more prep time, and I’ll take all of that I can get.

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.

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Had lunch with this guy today…

It’s  4 a.m. and I just got home about 20 minutes ago. I left for work at 8:45 this morning. This is all in the nature of the business I’m in. In fact, it isn’t even unusual.

I started the day shooting camera on two scenes for Ben. The first was a young girl who’d done very few scenes who was sweet, but as boring as boring can be. The second girl was doing her first scene ever and, really, performed like a champ.

Afterwards, I went to shoot on Punk Rock Schoolgirls for Joanna Angel and James Deen. Joanna writes rally cute, funny scripts for her movies, but sometimes they’re a bit… overambitious. As the oldest warhorse on the set (I’ve got five years on the next oldest person, and 11 years more experience in porn), I had the unenviable task of pulling James & Joanna aside and suggesting that they weren’t going to make their day.

In the past, Joanna has always gotten lucky and pulled off the impossible. This time it just wasn’t going to happen. So, the plug got pulled with one incredibly intricate dialogue scene to be picked up at some later date.

For all that the populace at large things porn is an enormous fuck-off job, I often think there are no harder working people in the world than porn shooters.

Tomorrow I’m going to run errands and spend the evening with Mischief and some of her friends. It’s good because I’ve been feeling incredibly anti-social lately, I think as a reaction to being so overwhelmed by work and debt (strange combination). She forces me to get out in the world.

For my birthday she took me to a big cat preserve, ironically located right next door to the Tropic Desert Mine where we shot The 8th Day, so I was already aware of the place. It was a great day out, spent mostly in the company of animals (whom I largely prefer to people).

Rape of the Aboriginal Americans day and most of this coming weekend will be spent at the computer, working. Indulging my misanthropic nature.

My fingers are stiff from too many long days in a row, so for now let me just say eat some dead turkey in honor of a dead Indian and enjoy your Thanksgiving.

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.

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