Cocktail hour?

Hang in there...

You are free to move about the country

6:00 am. The alarm on my phone has been going for seventeen minutes. I'm usually obsessive compulsive in choosing a time that ends in a 5 or 0 but I decided to break the habit last night. The down comforter I was too lazy to switch out in spring is balled up at the foot of my bed. I'm sweating a bit under a thin cotton sheet in late July.

It takes me ten minutes to get out of bed leaving little time for a shower before the cab arrives at half past. I seriously consider skipping it but I hate sitting on a crowded plane smelling of sweat, animal dander and pot. With six minutes to go I pull on my shorts, check my pockets for phone, wallet, keys, and a little pre-flight oblivion.

I ask the cab driver to wait while I search for headphones in my car. No such luck. I'll regret that later. Trunk open, I hop into the cab with just a backpack and my camera bag. My driver has to get out to close it.

"It's supposed to get hot and humid again today. But I guess you don't have to worry since you're leaving." I mumble something about Alabama and my head falls back against the seat. I feel some remorse but with exhaustion taking hold of my caffeine addiction for the time being, my less than sober state slips me into a silent state for the remainder of the journey. I always feel bad for taxi operators. Long hours unrelated to a solar day. It must get lonely or at least upsetting when a passenger doesn't want to talk. It's worse than the hours of driving I do alone. At least I can sing off key to whatever I want. Or listen to news reports of oil spills, Pakistan hedging it's bets over the war in Afghanistan, searching for a cure for aging and death. A taxi driver is reduced to a machine designed to convey people, not words.

I rattle off a barely respectable email to my mother and father and have my first large, iced dark roast, black. I learned to love the rush of caffeine swirling around my stomach and bloodstream in college. I always knew the effect that the bitter, awful tasting stuff had on my mother so I avoided the nasty taste. Then I hit the, for lack of a better word, real world. Long hours, little sleep, less motivation. I told myself if I'm going to drink it, it's gonna be straight. No milk or sugar to mask the truth.

I've got even less time to finish my coffee than I did taking a shower. I almost immediately regret jerking myself awake so abruptly but it's too late now. With bloodshot eyes and a pounding headache compounded rather than alleviated by caffeine I head through security.

I empty lights, camera, pockets, belt, shoes, hat, soul into grey bins and walk towards a machine I can only assume is designed to cause cancers of a horrible nature. "Stand with your hands over your head for seven seconds.". I think to myself: if I were a terrorist with a bomb, the security checkpoint is the last place I'll reach before discovery. Might as well blow it up. Being stuck at this bottleneck, being violated by a doomsday device, can only increase the chances of being destroyed on this very spot. But maybe that's for the best since I'll probably die of cancer or complications related to my breakfast sandwich if I survive this safety check.

I've never been to Alabama. I suppose after my eighteen hours in Birmingham, I'll still feel that way. Most of my time will be consumed by work or sleep. I am on assignment to film Serengetti kittens. I'm not sure if that's how the breed is spelled. I never bothered to look into that. In any case, it won't matter until I hand off the tapes to an assistant editor who will undoubtedly laugh that I'm out of breath, from walking up two flights of stairs, when I reach his desk. It won't even matter then. All that will matter is the footage contained on the mini dv tape. So important and yet so insignificant.

As my connecting flight begins to descended into Charlotte, I can't help but wish they still gave out in-flight snacks.

Prison Break!

It's a boy (x2)

[Edit] (x1)

Locked Up

It has been 5 days since I arrived at this prison. Its a very nice prison. Outdoor privileges, including a large run that leads to and around a beautiful reservoir. It has tall pines and ferns. Sunlight streaming through the leaves.

There's a porch for reading. A watchdog, too old to truly watch, is great company. The guards are plentiful and fur-ocious but friendly indeed. Especially Houdini, who's pink tongue, a stark contrast to his all black coat, sticks out whenever he's excited.

My cell has its perks. A comfortable bed, a couch and wifi access. It also has its downsides. No cellular reception, they let me keep my phone. One meal a day, peanut butter on bread and potato chips. Also water or if I'm good, a beer.

I have read a book on Buddhist meditation and begun examining the history of the United States from the perspective of the forgotten and under-appreciated. Dense material.

I've somewhat gotten over my need to eat when I'm alone. Could be that I don't have any food, but I could order some. They do allow deliveries here. Its certainly not a maximum security facility.

In truth, I am here to film a cat giving birth. As the science of pregnant cats is less than precise, I have been sitting tight for many days and nights waiting to be called in to action.

Despite the luxuries I am afforded, this place is still a prison. I am trapped by obligations and money. I can't leave or I'll likely lose my job or lose opportunities in the future. I can't afford that so I stay, even though the door is unlocked.

What did I do today?

Monday

Oh, today I took a day trip to South Carolina to film dogs playing fetch.

Tuesday

Oh, today I filmed a gay couple and their ferrets fooling around.

Wednesday

Oh, today I filmed parrots while a transexual took photographs.

Thursday

Oh, today I was booked for two shoots in England:

1. the worlds largest rabbit and its owner, a woman who had plastic surgery to look like Jessica Rabbit.

2. a ferret racing competition

Friday

Oh, today I had to cancel the UK shoots but was booked for a week of shooting in British Columbia, LA and San Diego with...guinea pigs, hamsters and rabbits.

A note on the difficulty of my job (or why I can't use Craigslist)

Looking for children and small, furry creatures (Boston)

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Date: 2010-05-17, 6:49PM EDT
Reply to: (Withheld)

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Hi,

I am looking for young children, preferably under 10 years old, to be filmed with any of the following: guinea pigs, hamsters, ferrets and/or rabbits.

• Location: Boston
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
• Compensation: ;)

Dogs

Started a new job this week. Boiled down to the best possible pickup line: I travel around filming puppies. In fact, I'm going to Florida next week for that purpose. It isn't all glitz, glamour and paws though. I also have to go to places less desirable. My first trip was to such a place. Upstate New York. Its almost as bad as Jersey in its ability to be somewhere you don't really want to go at all. Anyway, the genius that I am, wanting to impress my producers with a quick shoot, booked a trip right through a blizzard. So here is that blizzard and part of my burnt orange Kia Rio.

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