Digital Love (via Daft Punk)
"Last Night I Had A Dream About You; In This Dream I Was Dancing Beside You"
And a catchy beat. . . (one, two, one, two).
Last night I pictured myself driving down the 405 at 85 mph. Zipping the night away, beneath the starlit heavens, I heard the jingle of the Star Wars theme from my cell. After a most delicious phone call with you, I headed over to your two-story victorian, with white picket fence. The cat sat on the stoop cleaning her paws, making diabolical plans for the next door neighbor's parakeet.
As I slid into first gear, coasting through a well-lit driveway, I smiled privately, eyeing the bottle of Pinot in the passenger seat. In only a matter of time, your script would be consummated. The last day of filming always gave me the jitters.
Not that I'm an in-demand actress, but I must say I have flair for an Unknown. (That's what they call us Hollywood types that are expectated to make this movie their breakthrough role.) Maybe that's why I had the jitters; I'd only worked on two other films, and a TV drama that won't ever see the light of day as the pilot never got picked up by any networks.
However, I'd never worked with This Director, (you) before. You're calm, cool, dashing, yet detached. While filming, I never knew if you were quite satisfied with the scene. Was that enough emotion? Tone it down? Look less Porn Star, more Wayward Runaway?
The day I auditioned for the role, I was fucked-up. I'd dropped a couple shooters, whose names are lost forever, and probably a Kamikaze or two. I think I offered to sleep with you (though I can't remember clearly); and scarily enough, I probably would have. After all, not every actor gets to work with you, as you only make a few elite movies that you feel drawn to.
With that in mind, I think I did Okay. After all, I did get a callback. So scene after heroic scene, I played my part. And tonight, we wrap up.
And a catchy beat. . . (one, two, one, two).
Last night I pictured myself driving down the 405 at 85 mph. Zipping the night away, beneath the starlit heavens, I heard the jingle of the Star Wars theme from my cell. After a most delicious phone call with you, I headed over to your two-story victorian, with white picket fence. The cat sat on the stoop cleaning her paws, making diabolical plans for the next door neighbor's parakeet.
As I slid into first gear, coasting through a well-lit driveway, I smiled privately, eyeing the bottle of Pinot in the passenger seat. In only a matter of time, your script would be consummated. The last day of filming always gave me the jitters.
Not that I'm an in-demand actress, but I must say I have flair for an Unknown. (That's what they call us Hollywood types that are expectated to make this movie their breakthrough role.) Maybe that's why I had the jitters; I'd only worked on two other films, and a TV drama that won't ever see the light of day as the pilot never got picked up by any networks.
However, I'd never worked with This Director, (you) before. You're calm, cool, dashing, yet detached. While filming, I never knew if you were quite satisfied with the scene. Was that enough emotion? Tone it down? Look less Porn Star, more Wayward Runaway?
The day I auditioned for the role, I was fucked-up. I'd dropped a couple shooters, whose names are lost forever, and probably a Kamikaze or two. I think I offered to sleep with you (though I can't remember clearly); and scarily enough, I probably would have. After all, not every actor gets to work with you, as you only make a few elite movies that you feel drawn to.
With that in mind, I think I did Okay. After all, I did get a callback. So scene after heroic scene, I played my part. And tonight, we wrap up.
posted by JadedTLC at Thursday, June 30, 2005
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home