“Woooooooooo!” Da Boss, inexplicably, brought wine with him to my office. The editing bay was open, the exhibition file was exporting, and I had to keep him away from the console lest some zest pour on the machines currently rendering our art. I asked what he was doing with so much alcohol: four bottles of Chablis. “I brought champagne!” I shook my head and told him that Chablis was white wine, not champagne. He frowned and looked at his bundle. “Oh. I guess that’s why they don’t have the gold tinfoil shit you usually… you see… on the … champagne bottles… goddammit…” He fell onto the couch, bottles clanking, and I grabbed one. I asked if he’d started drinking all of a sudden (Da Boss doesn’t indulge). “No, they’re for you, silly—enjoy your night off. We’re finished for now. We have to finish ‘The Couch’ next week but that one is so much less hard. I’m tired. Just drink the wine. I’m going to sleep.”
Then he left. I was left with myself, and even after the exhibition file was finished cooking, I’d lost all desire to work on the movie. Maybe it was because the last two weeks were a mad dash to finish “One Day in New York City, Summer 2022,” the first frames from SATUR-19 to be seen by anyone other than me or Da Boss. His mood was improving as we got closer to our deadline, impressed with my work—who wouldn’t be—and by the time he brought me the Chablis, he wasn’t exactly glowing but he wasn’t as depressed anymore. He did agree with Jerry Seinfeld that “the movie business is over,” stressing Seinfeld’s point that people don’t quote movies or even talk about them like they used to anymore. I had to agree myself.
There wasn’t much to do that night. We finished early, sending in our exhibition file at seven p.m., when we’re usually editing until around four. I was too tired to read and my eyes hurt too much from looking at a screen to watch a movie or anything dumber, so I tried to nap, failed, and then went out and foraged some greens and a field mouse from the alley back outside Da Boss’ office. Did you know you’re not supposed to eat chocolate after midnight? It’s not known as much anymore, but it’s true—I learned that on YouTube at some point in the night, surfing mindlessly and not feeling very good physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
I love being on the computer, but I was brain-dead and too wired to do anything, too zonked to enjoy something as simple as a Joe Dante interview, or a bad William Friedkin movie like Deal of the Century. It was nice to see some obscure films I’d been looking for pop up in my feed—especially 1983’s Better Late Than Never—but I couldn’t get anything done. I looked at our work over and over, but even that, an old habit, was running raw and ragged. I smoke a hash joint and meditated on the profound influence of mangoes in my life, and then I went to bed. Our premiere is tonight.
—Follow Monica Quibbits on Twitter: @MonicaQuibbits