Jaded

"Like the Second Murderer, [I am] one whom the vile blows and buffets of the world have so incens'd that [I am] reckless what [I] do to spite it."

From 'Ishmael', by Daniel Quinn.


Yeah.

Reckless.

Spite.

Showed up this afternoon and turned in the images of the previous two days, along with a DVD of inspirational material (of what and for what, I don't know since everything has been revamped, rewritten and reworked) and a CD of world music meant to go to someone on the set. Only thing I didn't turn in was an invoice, because it was meant to be a labour of love (note comment from previous post about fathers and favourite children). But seriously, I have not love for something that was ripped away from me without so much as a 'by your leave'.

Watched as my replacement (I hope he stays for the rest of it) worked his way on the set and not feeling the same disgust at the rape as I do. Ignorance is truly bliss. To feel nothing at all is complete and utter bliss. To not have to watch as something comes apart completely, and wondering why the hell I am on the scene for:

Am I to be consultant for the script? I don't think so. Whatever it is that is being filmed, it's got nothing to do with me. Why is my name there on the poster? Beats me. I wish it to be taken down. Far be it for me to say it won't do well - it is always possible that it'll do wonderful on the arthouse circuit. It might. But it's not the story I am telling. It's not the story that needs to be told. It's not doing justice to a story that's written as a nocturne. What I saw was akin to a rock video. Blatant. In your face. A story written for the dumb-ass masses, the hoi polloi brought up on a steady diet of brainless, mindless stories that appeal only to their visceral.

I want my dictionary back as well, after the filming is done.

Am I to show up for rehearsals to help the actors get into the psyche of their roles? No. Everything seems pretty peachy enough as it is. Rehearsals are done on the spot before the actual take, so I'm not needed as well. No need for me to work out what it means to be a middle child or what development stages we should be worried about as we film the growing rebellion of the lead role. It doesn't take somone who knows his Psych shit and could have done more with this shit if he hadn't been forced to come back to this place he does not love only because he had to, to tell you this shit isn't gonna fly. It's going to be one fucking coindence after another. You want this is to be your magnum opus. Not. Going. To. Happen.

So what am I to show for? Production stills? Material for press releases? Fuck you.

That's right. Fuck. You.

Someone gets to play Director. Someone else gets to play Assistant Director. Steps up. Everyone else gets to play Big Shot. I get to be a Photographer. Again. Big. Fuck. If I'm Photographer. I'd rather do it for money. It will never be for love. There is absol-fuckin'-lutely nothing I'd do with this set. For. Love. Leave it to some poly grad wannabe photographer on their holiday break to take your photos.

I.

Don't.

Do.

Production.

Stills.

You create a fucking do-nothing role for me to assuage your guilt. Don't fucking bother. Tell me, and I'll back off. I don't need to be treated like a child. You want me out. I'm out.

Just don't tell me lies. Don't tell me you trust me, so I should trust you. And then tell me lies.

Script's not good enough on the word of supporting cast? Sure. You write it then.

You think it through and you write the whole damned thing. It's yours after all. All yours. I wrote it for fucking six, 5-minute episodes. You tell me to write for a feature. I did. I wrote it with all the fucking continuity and psychological issues you tell me to put in. But it wasn't what I wanted. Did it anyway. And what happens? Someome says, "Script sucks," and everything is changed. And from then, I get left out of the fucking loop.

So, yeah, fuck you and the charity you are showing me.

If I'm not needed. Not wanted. Not useful. Not at all fuckin' involved. Let me know.

Don't expect me on the set and make me, yes, make me WATCH the rape of my baby every fucking day.

Don't make me do that.

You want me to fucking burn my bridges? You know I can do that. You want me to do that with you? I can.

You've been a good friend. Encouraging and shit. I will back off. This is yours completely. Take my name out of the credits. We don't talk for one month and we'll be cool. Savvy? Just don't lie to me, and just don't tell me you trust me. That I should do whatever I want because you believe.

Ever.

So. 'Becoming'?

How this for kicks?

'Becoming...'

'... Worried'

'... Indifferent'

'... Disinterested'

'... Jaded'

'Becoming... Bent over and fucked up the ass. By the people I believed in and trusted.'

Becoming.