Sunday, May 31, 2015
I am attending a gathering on a dock in SF with burning man circus-dressed individuals partying for some event or possibly a protest. I am scheduled to leave on a private boat with Harrison Ford to an estate across the water. The plan is to use a new fresh food delivery service that arrives after items are chosen from a well-designed menu hand delivered from a small dingy. The choice is a large bird, possibly an eagle, still with feathers, claws and a suspicious looking identifying tag that must be removed. I struggle with it in the kitchen with Dayna West. She takes a short cut to alleviate the problem by cutting off the tagged leg. There is still much plucking of feathers to do, but I am distracted by the other activity.… creation of a movie in a suite of rooms, notably an elegant bathroom and the main shooting set, a bedroom with a large bed. I go about doing lighting tests by cranking up any number of dimmers that illuminate the scene from bucket lights in the tall ceilings. There seem to be an inordinate amount of light switches throughout the suite, which I am toggling back and forth to ascertain their source connection. Harrison Ford has now turned into Rob Lowe, who is a close friend. As he lays on the bed, we discuss the type of movie we're creating as I take Polaroids for the lighting tests. I have only one package of the film along with a digital movie camera I assume will be used for the filming. Rob expresses his desire to make the film using mostly stills from the Polaroids. My concern is how to acquire more Polaroid film for the completion of this new idea. John Elk is present and contributes his dismay that he never had such an opportunity with a set or star such as this. I am undeterred by his complaints as there is much to do and I have not had an inspiration for the sauce to be prepared to for the bird, yet.
Monday, May 25, 2015
There is much chaos in the streets outside, several celebrations are happening i.e. Critical Mass, Sunday Streets etc. and most seem to have devolved into protests of disgruntled mad max mobs. Their war cries and whooping coming from near and far. Those on bikes are circling intersections and holding cryptic signs. One reads: We are all born in a box to live in a box. It is held by a guy riding on the shoulders of another guy pedaling an elevated tall bike among other contraptions. There seems to be no cohesion to the groups, just restless and relentless discontent bubbling up. It is dusk so the light is eery and oddly multicolored. I have a ticket to a play downtown with an 8:00 curtain. I am not concerned about entering the fray, but decide to flag down a cab at 24th and Mission. Traffic is impossible and he decides to take South Van Ness, which is no better. This older cab driver has a silver short cropped crewcut and seems Slavic. In defeat, he pulls over to the old Cala parking lot as I decide to seek other transportation to the play. It is already late and I am calculating my time and wether to return home a few blocks away. The meter reads $71.41 and is obviously a swindle, so I begin to argue with him. He's an old pro at his scam and shouts invectives and threats back. I give as good as I get, eventually screaming "Fuck you" and walk away from the scene without paying. No one notices as there are small fires, mayhem, many brawls and much chaos as previously mentioned.