I'm going to the Jefferson in the morning.

I am a film-maker.

The skills one needs to be a film-maker are as follows:

1. taking dictation.

2. driving a car.

3. shutting the fuck up Honaker.



This morning- well, last night- began the 48-Hour Film Project Thingy that Matt has been so gung-ho about for months now.

We had a staff meeting to toss out ideas about a month ago.

That was fun. I ate pizza and watched Jeopardy and told stories about my cats.

But yesterday was the big day, as we were presented with our film genre at 6pm. Matt sent Hannah "in his stead" (when he said that I really knew this was serious), and she sat at a small table in The Camel bar on Broad St. while she waited for the announcement.

A girl came and sat with her. Hannah struck up a conversation, which was going well until Hannah mentioned that she thought the "Twilight" movies were ok, but she was not a huge fan.

The girl then refused to make eye contact with or speak to Hannah for the next fifteen minutes.

Whatever.

Anyway.

We are assigned Film Noir.

Which I know means black and white with detectives. And The Maltese Falcon.

That's all I know.

So I shoot Matt a voicemail with the first idea that pops into my head, which involves Leann Rimes and a copyright infringement, and then I do my show.

After show, I am requested at Matt's house to assist with the script writing.

Brett and I hustle straight over. It is a good thing we have hurried because immediately upon our arrival we are herded directly into Matt's bedroom and made to watch a SPARC promotional video. We (being me) are still not clear on exactly why we watched this.

Ben shows us his postcard of himself as a turkey having coffee in Joe's Inn.

I suggest that we maybe write a script?

So Ben and Hannah leave, I situate myself on the couch between Matt and Brett and proceed to toss out words and periodically go into the freezer for an ice cube.

I also eat Matt's entire box of cheese crackers. I did this directly after he said, "Audra, don't eat all my crackers."

But we write a whole script. By 2:30 it is done. 17 lines. Which I feel might be a bit spare, but I am loudly overruled. And I don't care anyway, because I have had a FOUR drink from 7-11, which Jacob Pennington says means I have fallen on hard times.

A FOUR drink is about the size of a regulation Monster energy drink, and is half energy drink, 12% alcohol.

I can stomach the taste, and one of them tastes a little like Hawaiian punch, so I have one from time to time.

WASTES ME OUT.

1 can of partial alcohol. I am very amused that I can drink 7 entire bottles of Firefly vodka and perform on beam at Olympic trials, but I cannot drink one of those FOUR drinks.

Oh well.

Anyway, I go home, have a nice chat with Lola, and turn it.
Because Herculean Hannah is picking me up at 7 this morning to begin work on the film.
Promptly at 7am I begin receiving phone calls and messages from Matt and Hannah.
She picks me up. We drive to SPARC office, where Matt Polson is already arrived and very obviously ready to be a film director. You can tell by his tall black socks.
I have donned my enormous beige overalls and my pink wife-beater. I feel that this makes me look very filmish.
We arrive.
I am immediately dispatched to Martin's to pick up a breakfast pizza and 24 Diet Cokes.
Which- I carry. Alone. I am awesome.
I dispatch myself back to SPARC. Still just Matt and Hannah. I fool around on Jason's computer for a while. I design the business card for the detective character in our film. I whine and complain about being cold until Hannah sends Matt home to get me a sweatshirt, among other things, because, she says, she does not want to have to hear me whine about it all day.
Knows me. Still loves me. Feel very blessed to have so many people loving me despite all my whining and hanging up on people.
Hannah and I have a lovely discussion about appreciating life, and then in short order Matt arrives, followed by Ben and that blond gal who bartends at Joe's and is very comfortable frowning.
I screech into the lobby asking Matt where is my hoodie, he screeches back that it is in his bag.
So I stride confidently into the lobby and open this bag. I find inside only a rumpled black men's t-shirt. I am suspicious of this. What a poor choice for warmth. Also, it will probably fit snugly round my hips, which I hate in my loungewear.
I sniff it. Smells like person.
Obviously came out of the dirty laundry pile.
So I pace around the lobby railing to Hannah and anyone within earshot that I cannot POSSIBLY be expected to keep warm in this.
Ben walks through. He stops. Looks. Says- "Did you go in my bag?"
I say, "oops."
He takes his shirt back and says, "It's CLEAN."
Oh well.
I am really off on the wrong foot with Ben so far today because already he has shown me the sign he printed up based on my design for us to stick onto Hannah's car. I said I thought it should be shaped like a cloud. He puts it away in his bag (that I dare not re-enter) faster than anyone has ever put anything away.
I think he must have been talking to Adam about my fiddling and causing trouble.
I wouldn't have messed it up.
Oh- and Matt had actually done well. Brought me a warm red zip-up jacket. That didn't smell like person.
Hannah braids my hair four times while Jacquie tells us a story about guns and depression and then we all form a caravan for the ride out to Ali's house.
I call Tom on the way to inquire after the health of a friend of mine.
He answers the phone, "Haiti people."
I won't go into this, but just LET ME POINT OUT- HE DID NOT SAY HELLO. Who does that.
So we get there, we make a movie, Hannah and Ali and flop on the bed like we are having a sleepover and try not to giggle and stay UTTERLY SILENT as Jacquie O does some fabulous acting in front of a mirror.
It feels much like my 10th grade history project when six of us decided to make a video, only slightly more high tech.
There were the three girls on the bed watching and taking VERY IMPORTANT SERIOUS NOTATIONS while Ben, Chase and Matt handled all the manly equipment and directed the actors in hushed tones.
At one point Hannah and I found ourselves huddled in the fetal position behind Ali's bed trying to take our notations and be completely silent and NOT BE IN THE SHOT.
There will be a photo forthcoming.
Then we all drank Diet Coke and ate pasta salad that Brigitta's mother has made and brought over in a pitcher. To each his own.
Chase handles the boom. Which involved a lot of him standing in the shrubbery and being very close to Matt Polson.
Ali's job is to bang the clapper.
I write things down, and so does Hannah, until Hannah has to do some of the acting, and I do Hannah's writing and my writing.
Ben paddles me in the fanny with a piece of posterboard, which I cannot handle because of the dream I mentioned earlier.
Matt's brother arrives and says no word to anyone for six and a half hours.
Then we have a wrap. Everyone applauds, which I find to be a little silly.
Movie-making is the biggest bunch of nothing to do I have ever heard of. If you are one of the actors.
Jacquie O should be kept under close surveillance until tomorrow, as during the course of shooting I think she had up to 20 aspirin in her mouth.
I'm tired of talking about this now.
I'm supposed to go over tomorrow and see the finished product.
The show was lots of fun tonight.