Do you know what a 35mm film camera sounds like when it’s shooting, exposing film? It’s like a gun, a machine gun. You know the kind. Full Metal Jacket. Unarmed and dangerous. I’m starting to get into some habits and moods that make me really nervous. But I’ve just got to feel it out. I got fired from a film set last week. The Continuing Adventures of Cliff Booth. I wasn’t really feeling it and decided to give it my worst for a week just to see what would happen. Turns out that was a bad idea, a really bad idea not only for my immediate financial future but my plans for everlasting fame, love, and most importantly, recognition. I betrayed David Fincher, I spur-clawed Erik Messerschmidt, and I disappointed My Sensei—he yelled at me—so I’m feeling kind of low lately. Like I need a nap. But I don’t take naps. I work, during the day, and all of the night. For you. (My love.)
It all started with some innocent bribery. Unnamed parties of associates of My Sensei approached me with a business proposition involving “shell companies” and “dry powder.” I thought he was talking about going to the beach. Now I’m being investigated by the SEC and people on the street call me “chicken” as if I DON’T have four feathers of red indicating my sex. I am a rooster, proud and plain, simple as. No need to misrepresent me as a piece of meat and nothing more. At least my ass tastes good. Only vultures bother with you, and they are disgusting, sub-avian creatures. They’re the you-know-whats of the bird world. You know who I’m talking about.
The Cliff Booth movie was going well until Mr. Fincher started editing. “He hates all of his films when he’s finishing them,” the press says. I say that’s total bullshit. Mr. Fincher is currently panicking and, shall we say, in a mood. Or many moods, none of them… well. On the other hand, My Sensei is smiling like the Buddha and ready to lick his lips for the next (seafood) dinner of his charmed life. We’re going to Duvall later—it’s new. It’s in the Valley. Nicky told me I couldn’t afford a plane ticket, but he didn’t know I was flush with first week’s pay when he came home at the end of our tire party. He didn’t know this bird was back working in Hollywood while he was mere miles away begging people to do the same thing. Maybe we should collab. Not. Hate him.
Problems arose in the first half hour of reshoots. So-and-so wasn’t ready, this-one didn’t know their lines, that-one got fat in the six months since we wrapped principal photography. So what, whore cares. I mean who cares. Slip. That’s an oopsie! And I shouldn’t have said it in front of the lead actress. Well not the lead actress of the movie, the lead actress of the reshoots. She was very offended and asked me to leave immediately. I was like, wow, rude, and like, ungrateful bitch. Honestly… no but for real they threw my ass out onto the street and now My Sensei says he doesn’t know me and I don’t want to be here anymore. So I came back to Baltimore to be with people who still love me. I hope.
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