Diner slang changes wherever you go. Ray asked for a hot dog, no bun, no toppings, just the brat. Or the frank. Or whatever kind of sausage it was. That’s a ‘New York sour’ here. I wanted crispy onions and soft-fried onions: a round potato.
Some extra took a shine to Dahlia, tried to profess his love. The bodyguard, Ovid, got in the way; so did Ray. The extra - Keith? Kevin? took a swing at Ray, clocked him upside the head. Got thrown out, won’t be back.
Someone tried to call me. I missed the call.
Dahlia was going to take us back to her trailer, but at the last minute she changed her mind for some reason, so I said I was going to go and edit some footage. Or, that’s what I meant to say, but what I actually said was footage of her. It sounded weird. I hope she didn’t really notice.
The unit director was whining about the filter treatment on the lenses not working, so I had a look through and -
The whole city is on fire. The city is in the city is in the city is in the city and everyone in it is on fire. The Director of Photography is on fire - Trevor. Trevor is on fire, and iron hooks pull at his flesh, pull him back into the darkness in the unit trailer, and he is tired, and he is stressed, and the hooks are attached to chains and the chains reach back further than I can see. And one of those hooks - one of those hooks catches in me.
- it wasn’t quite right, just like he said. He was stressing about being able to fix it in time for the chase scene; I said: why not shoot digital and post-process. Offered to lend him my camera. He was grateful, grateful enough to fuck off when I gently hinted he and the rest of the crew should get some lunch and smoke the blunts Trev kept anxiously playing with.
That gave me time alone to edit the Dahlia footage. I’ve got something really special, I know it. I used a bunch of archive footage to scene-set, in an abstract kind of way, but the core of it is the pills in the hand the sad girl who wants so much for someone just to care. I care. Smash cut: she’s out of it, sprawled in dreamless oblivion on the bed. If she can’t really, truly be loved, then she’d rather not be. Sleep is just a little death, and it comes with fewer emotional hangups than the other kind. I was just finishing up when Ray had an episode outside, heatstroke or something, so I brought him in to cool off and get some water. Showed him my blog, but he didn’t really get it ‘cause he’s old. He asked me about the footage; I lied and said it didn’t work out. So he offered to get me more time with Dahlia. Of course I said yes. More footage means I could extend this piece, and this time I have an actual excuse to watch her through the lens.
I finally checked my cellphone. Marnie was the one calling. She wanted some advice on whether she should sign up with a new agent - Deborah Reeder - aunt of star Tiffany Reeder. She couldn’t get hold of me so she accepted; the agent has already got her a couple of parts, including a small but noticeable funny role in a romcom. I said I’d look into Debbie. We arranged to celebrate at her place at 9pm, and I’m bringing my camera to do the test shots for Trevor.
The three of us went looking for Evan because he was supposed to be on set today. He didn’t arrive on set. We went to look for him at his house; the gate was locked, but I got us through. It was simple enough, but when I explained it Dahlia said it was cool. She said it was cool! And she sounded like she really meant it, and I said ‘YEAH, WHATEVER’. Seriously. Seriously? I deserve to be alone.
There was a security guard from the studio at the house, and he didn’t know where Evan was either, but Dahlia asked to make a call. Dahlia phoned someone called Brad Hoyt, who said Evan was with him. I found out the address and Ray drove us there.
Dahlia seemed kind of off when we went to find Brad. Name rings a bell, I think he’s in other movies. Off when she made the call, too. Brad didn’t answer the door, Evan did. He’s a pretty kind of boy, in that soft sad way that boybands and teen-girl movies love. Maybe a little too pretty for this film, but hey, I’m not in Casting. He looked a little beat up, and the air felt charged in that way that it does if, I guess, you let another guy take you home instead of going to work, and when you get to his house you let him fuck you and hit you around a bit in the fun way. We’ve all been there.
Afterwards, outside, the creepy guy Kevin immolated himself because he couldn’t have Dahlia. He kept saying, over and over, - ‘They destroy you’ -. I mean, that’s literally the name of the picture. Weird what gets into people’s heads. Ray couldn’t handle it, Dahlia just stared. Not at what was going on, though. Just. She didn’t really seem like she was there at all. I - God knows why, it was the weirdest fucking thing, like my hands started moving on their own - I got my camera out. I started filming, framed the shot like it was the most natural thing in the world, got the angle. Got too close, but I was in the zone, and I didn’t notice when my jacket caught. Dahlia did, though. Threw her coat around me to put the flames out. Second nice thing she’s done for me today. Wish I’d not been so focused on the footage. It’s gonna be a great test shot for Trev though.
What the fuck is wrong with me?