I'll never forget one of the performances at the talent show when I was in the fifth grade. Tammy Primiano, a seventh grader, did a dance routine to Easy by the Commodores. I sat transfixed as she swayed and moved in her leotard. She was beautiful.
Twelve years later I ran into her in a bar. She was just sort of ordinary looking, not at all the type of woman that captivated me back in the fifth grade nor in my early twenties. I, on the other hand, had grown into my looks and was all too aware of the effect I had on women. She was with a grade school friend's older sister. Tammy and I had never met, so she didn't remember me when we were introduced. I went straight into seduction mode, though I blew it by mentioning the Easy dance routine too soon. She was embarrassed to the point that the conversation ended with me trying to convince her that I wasn't making fun of her. And that was that. I never saw her again. But I can still feel my hands clapping for her at the end of her performance.
This Sunday morning doesn't feel so easy. Little children in my charge as a wife runs off to a photo shoot doesn't make for an easy- like Sunday. In fact I'm a bit anxious this morning. I'm thinking a lot about audio for my films. I wonder if it's the next layer of micro-budget filmmaking that I need to address or if it's my way of infusing some anxiety into an otherwise assured sense of my filmmaking abilities. Like a need I have for everything to be jittery. Excitement junkie that I can be.
That's what finally brought me to end my lifelong cigarette habit. I started smoking at the age of nine. I watched my grandmother die of lung cancer in high school. The health benefits of quitting never served as a sufficient incentive. It wasn't until I recognized that it was cutting me off from the moment that I was able to quit. I was getting deep into directing, acting, writing, producing, teaching. Really pouring myself into mind and body, but then I would go smoke a cigarette. I started to notice this punctuation -- like I would be sticking all these full stops, commas and semi-colons in my day.
I think I've switched from smoking to telling myself that I'm not enough or don't have enough to punctuate my days. I've practiced letting go of the more mundane consumer comparisons, like scanning the other cars and trucks while driving, trying to determine the perfect automobile to meet both my practical and egotisical needs. Or getting caught up in the slavery of constant home-improvement projects. Our kitchen and bathrooms look almost third world for lack of paint and modern appliances and fixtures. I would have never let that happen in the past. Lately I say, I want what I have as a mantra when desire creeps in. Not always, but more and more.
Fact is, I have big appetites to feed. Getting enough is not easy. Common sense told me I shouldn't start Dangerous Writing. Not until I had some other stuff sorted. There were some practical reasons to push on, mainly David going away to grad school. The thing that really got me was how much it was working on me. I couldn't ignore the story. I sheepishly brought it up to my wife and then to Dennis. They were both in favor or going for it.
I still want the kitchen to look nice, but I've learned to wait. To respect that as an artist, I don't get to have it both ways. Bohemian delights in an upper-middle class wrapper. Same with my films. I can't sit around and wait for the Studios' greenlight. Nor do I want to spend my precious time raising money. But I want my films to look and sound good. I like to buy gear because I don't like to spend money on rentals. For many things you need insurance, which I don't have. Then you need to reserve it, go pick it up and return it. A lot of phone calls and running around. To top it off, rental houses base their rates on twenty rentals paying off a piece of equipment. If I'm going to use something twenty times in the next two years, I try to find a way to purchase it. I write it off on my taxes and I rent some of it out. I've made as much money this year renting gear as I have working. On top of that I have really good credit, both personally and for my business, so it's all too easy to make purchases.
The thing about audio gear is it doesn't go obsolete like cameras. I remember the salesmen trying to tell that when I bought my first audio stuff. If only I had thrown down the cash once. But I didn't and "if only" is an attitude that will kick my ass if I let it run free. Good sound people are worth their weight in gold and they know it. To hire one of those guys they charge a minimum of $700 per day. With their gear. That's their indie, I'm doing you a favor rate. Even when you're ready to kick that amount down, they are rarely available. And they often want a mixer and a boom op. Totally understandable, but hard to accomodate with no money. And I love to keep these crews tiny. Keeps everybody focused.
My thought is to turn to one of the guys that has some experience but has no gear and to put some quality gear in his hands. I also need to learn what makes good sound and check in with them until they've proved to be competent. Unlike on London Calling with planes flying overhead and the soundman saying, Not hearing it. Go ahead. Only to find he'd turned the levels down so far that next to none of the dialogue was landing on the DAT.
I'm going to talk with a couple of the up and comers this week. My dream would be for them to hustle their next jobs using my sound package. I would make them a sweet split. We'll see.
I have a lot of Dangerous Writing meetings and rehearsals today. That's probably some of my anxiety -- i just want to get to work. There's been some wonderful synchronicity happening.
Take it easy,
Signore Direttore
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