And then the rain came...

And then the rain came...

Where have I been the past few days??
a) under a rock
b) under my covers
c) someplace that I don't want to be

All of the above actually. The rock was more of a grey cloud, but has since lifted...

Wow. All that activity, excitement, panic, fuss and brouhaha has worn me out. And today, my body showed its appreciation.
For anybody who has suffered from migraines, the mere mention of the word can bring tears to one's eyes. For those of you who have been spared the misery, please allow me to explain - a migraine starts off feeling like a vice grip that has been attached to one side of your head, tightened so much that you can hear the metal scraping against metal. Your eyes are about to explode asthey hang by their last veins, and the back of your neck becomes so stiff, you can build a railway track on it. Any ray of light induces involuntary screams as you run for cover. Even the sound of dust settling sounds like 1000 hungry shreiking kids at a day care center. To sum up in one word? Hell.

I had one of those today.
When the all the insanity subsides, and the survival instinct dies down, the body wants to thank you for being such a slave-driver and running on nothing but fumes.
Hence - the MIGRAINE (it really merits caps).

Friday, went to see the screening of a film (at a film festival here) which I did cinematography work on.
It looked really swell, the images, the editing, graphics were top notch.
But the sound.
Oh boy, the sound, or lack of it.
The director and I knew at the getgo we were going to encounter some problems (without going into all the techy aspects), but this stuck out like a sore (mute) thumb in the final mix. There was one place in particular where the sound dropped out completly. From out of the corne of my eye, I watched the director bring his hands up to his face, his head into his hands, and then down into his lap. Speaking as a film person, I too have been there and know how incredibly humiliating a fuck up in your film can be during a premiere. All your work, all your blood, sweat and MONEY, in one moment can just amount to a holy mess. Not many people noticed this glitch, but for the director and I , those two minutes went by like weeks. I truly felt his pain... Poor guy. But the overall reception was good, people came up to both of us, congratulating us on our good work. Well, the way I see it, it's 'another film in the can, the next one - waiting to be loaded' (Show biz thing).


Saturday went to an office party with the man. It was being held in the company's warehouse (don't cringe yet, it actually looked really nice) decorated with all things Xmas. One of the more memorable moments was when the DJ led the crowd into a game of 'name that tune'. Each table had a captain and we had to keep track of specific songs that were given up in 10-20 second sound clips. There were songs from the 40's (like our table of 30somethings would know that much about music from the 30's!!), 40's, 50's right up until the late 90's. Our table was as mixed as a Christmas fruit cake - two couples, one in their mid 20's, the other - early 30's a few singles. The really quiet couple from China seemed politely pleasant at first, but as soon as the wine started pouring, they started rocking!! They were an absolute scream! The husband had me cracking up all night:

He puts up two fingers.
"How many finger you see?"
"Ah, two...'
"Ah! you see only two finger? You not drink enough!!"
He was laughing and laughing. His petite wife politely put her hand over her mouth and laughed and laughed as well. I was stunned at first - the irony of the joke, and the person that said it, but then I was surprised by how hysterical they found it. I burst out into a holler.
He reached over to the bottle of wine in the middle of the table:
"Here, drink more!! You too far behind!"
The inside sight joke was two fingers in the air, which we did to eachother all night. It was a great little moment.

I bought a kick ass lens for my camera on Sunday (and why I am telling you this I have no clue, Oh wait! It's because this is my blog and I CAN!!) - put down 400 cool ones. I had to replace my ould one because I dropped it. Yea, I know, butterfingers. Note to self : bungee cord everything of value and importance in my life to my body.

So this up coming Friday, there is another deadline for another film thing. I'm not stressing about it too much. I figure, if I can pull of what I did last week in less than 5 hours, this one will be a slice of pie. But then again, I have to get cracking. God knows I don't want another migraine on Sunday from sticking my brain into a pressure cooker.

Weird dream:
(I thought I would include these dreams becasue some are just too hysterical not to be recounted, even if they don't make any sense) .

I found myself stranded on some island, out past Australia (must be from watching all those ads for 'winter getaways'). The plane landed on a dock, Fantasy Island style, and the passangers had to get out and waddle through to the water(which was a beautiful turquoise), but still, waist deep tugging a sinking suitcase was not the ideal thing to be doing in the ocean, or on a beach.

I walked into this huge, (yet cottage like) looking hotel. It was absolutley enormous and very modern - a stark contrast to the quaint New England type home that it was on the outside.
There were glass elevators, slate/granite walls and floors that oozed of minimalist modernism. I walked up to the concierge counter and told the woman that someone had made a mistake - I was not supposed to be there, and I needed a ticket home as soon as possible. Because it was a dream, and I have yet to master the art of 'lucid dreaming', she told me that I was out of luck, and if I wanted to stay, it would cost me $700 us a night to stay. Holy crap! Even in dream currency that is steep!

The next set of sequences had me running to all these airline counters in the hopes of finding a cheap flight out; one clerk informing me that it was a 48 hour plane ride back home (where the hell were we??). After begging and pleading with the Air Canada ticket, she finally gave me a last minute deal (even in my dream, she was a real disgruntled bitch!!) and could squeeze me into a shorter flight.

The plane was not really a plane. It had a sun deck at the nose of the plane, equipped with chairs (which were all bolted down), a whirlpool that was actually a part of the ocean, and stewardesses who read the first class passengers a good night story before they fell asleep.

I got off somewhere in L.A near a beach. To my surprise, I had company with me - a bunch of really Italina girls who were trying to find a 'friend's' house. As we walked back and fourth (quite literally), we caught sight and ran into Robert DeNiro with a few of his buddies. These two groups kinda knew eachother but Mr. DeNiro singled me out, paid special attention to me, flirted with me heavily, and then gave me everything short of his measurements so I could get in touch with him later on.
"Here is a card from my bank manager. Call him tomorrow..."
He had this endless stack of cards which he pulled from his pocket. The wallet was simmilar to the one GEORGE had in Sienfeld - so stuffed that it made George sit on a slant becasue it was so packed in with papers...
I took each card, smiling pleasantly, putting them into my now over-stuffed silver evening bag.
"Did you get this one? With my email? Hold on..."
He took out a pen, brought his knee up to his chest, and scrawled something on the back of a beige card: bobbydin@yahoo.com. The loops in his o's were so squished together, it looked like one huge ink smudge.
"Call me tomorrow, no, wait, I don't have a phone, email me okay sweetie!? I will be waiting for you!"

As I walked away, perplexed and amused, the more outspoken woman of the group looked at me like she was going to punch me in the face - with her whole arm and forearm. One of the sisters whispered to me:
"She LOVES Bobby! She has been trying for months to get in touch with him!! You are one lucky woman, but also unlucky as well."
I had a funny feeling this dream was not going to end nicely.

After getting into the apartment, a series of screwball antics played out like a Benny Hill show on fast forward. Sensing her wrath, I knew I had to hide from this DeNiro fan. I grabbed a nearby purple wig, and asked the cat to help me find a place to hide. She meowed towards the direction of the bed. It was a kid's bed and my legs dangled over the edge. Underneath the covers, I could hear voices coming in my direction. As luck would have it, she ended up sitting on my legs, but I couldn't scream. Bitching about me and how she was going to use my face to scrub all her dirty pots and pans, the infamous Bobby D. shows up. Looking around the room as he sauntered in, he said: "Ladies, she is my girl, so lay off!"
He too pulled out a purple wig from thin air, yanked back the covers, took my hand and lead all of us to a nearby Burger King.

I wonder if his ears were burning, or having visions of business cards falling from the sky today...