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Ciro has hit upon the idea of adding Greek yogurt to his oatmeal in the morning to keep his stomach bacteria in order while he takes antibiotics. I have started doing the same to my oatmeal because it tastes good.
We drove down to Whitney for the day and held Hayseeds auditions (although James suggests we abbreviate to Scalawags while we're in town, so people don't worry we're unfriendly). We met a lot of friendly people, which I expected, but we also met a number of surprisingly talented people. In many cases, it will be a struggle to fill roles not because I have too few options, but too many.
Also a surprise: someone showed up to volunteer to do a cattle drive for us, just because it would be fun - which is not in the script but is now in the script. Even better: a retired professional bass fisher auditioned for the part of the charming older man, which I wrote thinking I would have to settle for someone less charismatic than Lando Calrissian. Then this man showed up. I am having trouble believing he exists, even though James and Ciro also saw him.
After auditions, Ciro and I scouted the graveyard (which I've noticed I tend to call graveyard even when other people would say cemetery) and took the scenic route home, because the hill country is beautiful. Incidentally, the town next to Whitney is Peoria, so we can easily discover how the film plays there.
Despite all this, and despite coming home to Blue Bell ice cream and a warm e-mail from Shuang*, who may edit the film, I feel melancholy and fretful, and disappointed with myself for not being happy even though things are going implausibly well, and even though burned-out James and burned-out me made a pact Tuesday to make an effort to feel the joy and not just the stress.
It's a silly thing to pick at yourself for picking at yourself. At least I am humorous even though I am out of humor, by which I mean I can still make Ciro laugh without having to think about it.
A very hot day, well over 100, and uncomfortably warm even with the air conditioning on full.
* A friend from film school, somebody I owe a lot for backing me up when times were tough, and with whom I drank wine and played monopoly just before I left London.
We drove down to Whitney for the day and held Hayseeds auditions (although James suggests we abbreviate to Scalawags while we're in town, so people don't worry we're unfriendly). We met a lot of friendly people, which I expected, but we also met a number of surprisingly talented people. In many cases, it will be a struggle to fill roles not because I have too few options, but too many.
Also a surprise: someone showed up to volunteer to do a cattle drive for us, just because it would be fun - which is not in the script but is now in the script. Even better: a retired professional bass fisher auditioned for the part of the charming older man, which I wrote thinking I would have to settle for someone less charismatic than Lando Calrissian. Then this man showed up. I am having trouble believing he exists, even though James and Ciro also saw him.
After auditions, Ciro and I scouted the graveyard (which I've noticed I tend to call graveyard even when other people would say cemetery) and took the scenic route home, because the hill country is beautiful. Incidentally, the town next to Whitney is Peoria, so we can easily discover how the film plays there.
Despite all this, and despite coming home to Blue Bell ice cream and a warm e-mail from Shuang*, who may edit the film, I feel melancholy and fretful, and disappointed with myself for not being happy even though things are going implausibly well, and even though burned-out James and burned-out me made a pact Tuesday to make an effort to feel the joy and not just the stress.
It's a silly thing to pick at yourself for picking at yourself. At least I am humorous even though I am out of humor, by which I mean I can still make Ciro laugh without having to think about it.
A very hot day, well over 100, and uncomfortably warm even with the air conditioning on full.
* A friend from film school, somebody I owe a lot for backing me up when times were tough, and with whom I drank wine and played monopoly just before I left London.
