Oh so much beer

Hex is around my neck, pulsing. I’m not sure what he’s getting from it so I’ll delude myself that it’s because he likes me. Even though he’s a reptile. I can comfort myself with the knowledge that many people exchange rings and vows with people who are as reptilian as hex. They even invite their long lost simple cousin because otherwise grandpa Brexit would have nobody to rant at.

I’m lonely though. I’m feeling it. I guess the need to braindump over the course of this job has made it more pointed. I find myself feeling simultaneously fully capable and totally lost. I turned in a hell of a final day, though. I’ve learnt the game now, and understood how I can make myself strong within it. I am now used to fighting three fires simultaneously and still moving myself from one place to another.

“I saw you in your element today,” someone says, and describes a moment of my behaviour, striding through a crowded car park detailing every idle hand onto a helpful thing before speeding back to the hotel room for a forgotten flagpole.

It was an extremely complete day. I made myself useful and improved things by being there and the only time it momentarily didn’t work was when one of the managers lacked the bigger picture and tried to isolate me onto driving one guy who would’ve been way too static. I knew the needs well enough to understand that I was being managed by someone less in touch but notionally superior in that moment. I basically just ignored him for the greater good, but sent him an official text to tell him so.

My self determined role today was Actor Transport and Emergency Wheels. The thing I hadn’t anticipated was the quantity of emergencies my active wheels would be needed for.

First thing, I dropped my actors and was immediately pulled off the job of looking after them. At the time they had nothing but a windswept gazebo and a pointedly indifferent location manager’s nonexistent efforts for shelter. This is the same guy who didn’t think the other day that my guy in a very visible costume might need a place to sit for his hours and hours, and then tried to make out to me last night that it was him “wandering around cos he was bored.” that caused the shoot to almost get shut down. What the fuck was he supposed to do at your location if you gave him no tiring area?

I didn’t even bother phoning the actor to ask his side of that bullshit. No need to confirm or deny it. The location man’s a twat. It’s his shit getting in the way… I still kinda like the human under the mask, but mostly he’s just too tedious, and this job is too stressful. I almost had to drive him home tonight and I didn’t have the energy to put up with his relentless insecure underscore. Plus he gives no fucks about actors. None. They can eat grass as far as he’s concerned and live in a wind tunnel.

My actors were consummate professionals all three, and I had to work to be get them taken off duty between shots. In absence of a 2nd AD, I put that hat halfway on.

It’s jarring to be on a set and witness how infantily some actors can be treated.

But I’m not employing those guys whilst they repeatedly walk into a wall for three hours unless someone rotates them ninety degrees.

I’m bringing extremely skillful humans to interesting jobs that they can do standing on their heads – literally if need be – because the money will be helpful in their unpredictable lives. “That’ll be a couple of cases of wine for my wedding,” says one friend, and YES! That’s ideal.


Here’s a snatched moment of cars full of balls.. One of the many strangenesses.

I’m terribly tired, and drunk enough that before I started writing this I was slurring and I overheard people feeling safe enough to say “Al is really drunk.”

Decompression, y’all. I’m doing it. I’ve got a loads of water, just about to get a codeine, and hopefully any insults can be safely overlooked as drunken ranting…


Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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