I lit the spit out of a white cyc the other day.  Top notch.  Great work.

Still, despite the beautiful promenades awaiting our love, I had to shove the talent back against the cyc and vomit camera movement all over them.

It still gives me the shivers.

I shot Billy Joel the other day.  Not since high school have I been less wanted.  His handler had her hands all over the breathing part of our throats.  I was watching the footage last night.  I suffocated.  Again.

We shot one take.  “You got it,” she told us.  Eh.

Then the B roll.  You can’t shoot B roll if there’s no A roll.

If I moved or breathed or smelled, the beasts grew ready to pounce.

A vignette of elephants ready to smash through the frame on their way away from me.

Watching that footage gave me the grimace.

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