camera shy,you'll find yourself on the monitors,
watching your steps and questioning your
timing, asking for a second take, replaying it in
your mind, looking for character beats, ant-
icipating the love scenes,
knowing that everybody's watching
but nobody's watching.
nobody but you and me.
and in nine months
after post-production and ADR and careful editing of raw footage
I'll be in the front row
munching popcorn and sipping soda and wondering where the time went
I'll stay through the end credits, looking for my name
scrolling the special thank-yous for names that shouldn't be there
and wondering where it was all filmed
all the parts that don't involve me
the days that I wasn't on set.
this whole thing screams "franchise potential,"
but I don't know if it's best suited
for a sequel, a spinoff, or a remake.
but everything's a remake these days
and I'll be played by some faceless blonde CW star with a smaller
nose and a thicker head of hair and you'll be played
by an unknown with a strong background in experimental
Chicago theater and they'll change the color of your hair to
orange as shorthand for how "unique" your character is
and after I see it, I'll write some editorial for the Huffington
Post about how far removed the story was from reality, how
different it was if you were there
like we were in some Vietnam documentary
but they're all just stories now, aren't they.
everyone makes blockbusters to fuel their smaller work
lend credibility and minimizes risk
cleanse the palette of a big production, get your head
back in the game, remind yourself why you started down
this path in the first place.
I'll be in my trailer. now where's my goddamn latte?