01.18.2003 || 21h48

Sundance season

So yeah, yesterday I worked from noon til midnight without a break, unless you count the 12.5 seconds it took me to change from Super Busser into my Super Kitchen Guy uniform. In my first 1 1/2 hours in the kitchen, we did 27 orders. by the time we closed the kitchen at 12, we had done meals. It was considered a fairly busy night.

That's what my week's looked like. To-day, I was here at Job #2 for 8 hours, and to-morrow, I'm back here for 6 hours, then pulling vent pipes out of Maman's house in the evening while she hems my kitchen pants and the new pair that Mystie got me for X-mas.

The espresso machine we sell here at Coffee Hell isn't as overpriced as I thought: It's pump-driven, whereas I'd thought it was just a $500 steam machine. Okay, I won't be spending $500 on anything as frivolous as a new espresso machine for a long bloody time, but at least I know that it's a viable option if I ever have money again and decide to take up the cause of hopeless yuppie-ism.

Heh, otherwise, I'm headed for *homeless* yuppie-ism...

Ahem. Five (5) pages from the end of our screenplay. I'm flirting with the idea of being a little excited. Not willing to go over the edge just yet, but it's out there. I've decided to ask one of the bartenders at work to be an extra in the film. He sorta jokingly asked to be in it, and I sorta jokingly told him where to go, but I think his look is good for the project. I'm obviously going to pass that by Hudson Girl before I do anything of the sort, though. I've also been reading through a film festival survival guide so I'll know whose arse to kiss the most if we ever get into one of those beasts. It seems that the three (3) most important ones on the planet (known as the A-list) are Sundance, Toronto, and Berlin. We apparently *must* get into one of these or die a slow, agonised, and expensive death.

I can deal with that. The B-list includes fests like Slamdance, Montréal, and SXSW. Then it goes down to more and more obscure bits and pieces... Dude, Everyone and second-best friend's got a film festival these days. Film festivals are definitely the detritus of a changing industry. Geoff Gilmore says that 10 years ago, you'd go to Sundance and hear everyone talking about how neat or vital this short or that feature was, whereas nowadays, everyone's probably going to be talking about who got what distribution deal and who's been bought (Geoff probably knows what he's talking about, as he's been in charge of Sundance since 1989). I guess it's too bad that I'm coming in when I am, because I love the more fundamental aspects of film so much more than the commercial viability of this and that. That's why I'm staying Northside and that's why I'm not trying to get onto any of the myriad Hollywood Dreck (as Katherine Monk calls it) projects that are going into production in Montréal or Toronto this year.

But I know that money moves film. I know that I need about 70 thousand-odd loonies to make this thing, but I need to do it anyway. I can taste it, I can almost feel it scratching at the inside of my skull and begging to be told.

Hm. It's amazing how Sundance season affects my thought process...

And by the way, if you ever want to really tick off a barista, order a tall decaf soy latté with artificial sweetener. A fucking middle-aged geek and his two faded bitches (who just *reeked* of lifetime middle-class prissitude) from godknowswhere in the RoC (most likely suburban Toronto, or failing that, just about any Canadian seminary or the US midwest) came in and ordered three of the things. Now, I'm glad that they were trying to finally add some hep to their insufficient jive by walking into the McDonald's of coffee and actually ordering something, but dude, don't insult the vital and artsy young (hear that? thirty years *young!*) barista and his hep and sexy, French-Canadian, artsy clientele by ordering grandma's own latté. Fuck, why not just strap on a colostomy bag and get it over with, fer fuksakes?

And Ageing Dude? We don't have things like Tall, Short, Diminutive or Waiflike here in Québec. You can have a Grande, a Mezzo, or a Piccolo. On the significantly large end, you can have either a Venti or a Jumbo, depending on which of North America's two major fastfood coffee chains you're darkening with your insignificant presence, but for the love of god and all that is holy, don't fuck with me that way.

PS: There might actually be hope for this damned planet.

||Gods save the Queen,

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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