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Wednesday, August 11, 2004
closing in...
i miss jessie. i miss her. my wife. i miss her.
we had a rewrite yesterday, but victor and i felt that doing it without a rehassle would be not a good thing, so we did the script we'd done the day before. it went great. we had a great audience of nearly 40; not the sellout we are always hoping for, but quite good.... it's nice to be familiar with the script, which i suppose goes without saying. provenz' was pissed about it, but what the fuck. before hand, i took my clothes to a laundry here and they cleaned my dirty, sweaty clothes. it's nice to be wearing clean, dry clothes. they don't have a drier in the flat, but i've learned from victor that claire's place has a drier. good to fucking know. the night before, i'd gotten an email from peter varano saying that it was possible that i'd need to go back and do more v.o. for hyundai. there was really no way to confirm because of the time difference, so after the big shoe, i called the studio and aksed if they'd heard from hyundai. dad and i took a taxi over there just in case and on the way, the woman from the ad agency called me on my uk phone and confirmed that they'd need me. i had to say "$2500" instead of "$2000". for two spots. that pays for a couple of weeks of food. plus the money that colin sent via paypal. alistair, the owner of the studio, recommended a seafood place as my dad wanted to take me out to a nice place and he wanted seafood. went back to the flat and argued with provenz'. after reading the rewrite, victor and i weren't convinced that it was better and said so. we wanted to read through it and provenz' kept arguing his point, which made no difference to me as i just wanted to read through the script to see how it went. so we read through it and it seems better, so we'll be doing it today. all we wanted was a rehassle... is that so wrong? i do hope that this is the last fucking rewrite. it's nice to be familiar with the script. the lighting guy, ad, seems weary of all the changes, too. went to the seafood place and it was fine. dad had wanted scallops and they said they were out. dad made a charming stink and the guy came back and said that they had three left and they'd serve him those. went home and changed in to the "manure mover" shirt that my dad gave me. went to the pc cowboys gig. i'm feeling more comfortable with their songs and not screwing their shit up. i'm wearing the nigerian hat and some sunglasses and they introduce me as ibrahim abacha who they met on the internet and are letting me play with them as i've promised them 10% of 30 million dollars. i do two bass solos which go over really well. the solos consist of me playing quarter note root chord tones but acting like i'm playing something much, much, much more difficult. each night, their crowds get better and they relax a bit more. last night the critic from the scotsman, the ny times of the festival, was there. here's hoping that she liked the shoe. i snuck in to late and live, the late night stand up nuttiness. it wasn't that funny or that nutty, so i came home. it's 10:30 and dad just left. i got a bit teary as he sped away in his taxi. i don't like it when people leave. it's no damned good. must get the new script printed out. onward! logging what goes on before, during and after producing the two person show "Dean Cameron's Nigerian Spam Scam Scam" at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and beyond.
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