So, onto the fun stuff:
This one is my favorite. Not only do I have mountains of great hair, but it was the moment I was speaking of in the last post about how I had to clean the bird crap off of the tombstone we were shooting. I call this photo "The Glamorous World of Movie-Making." This was as close to a moment of realization that I was going to get as far as my future in the movie biz. But you gotta love the Venom shirt.
This one isn't very interesting, but it illustrates that one of my jobs was pseudo-documentarian for the movie. I guess I envisioned that one day there would be a special edition DVD and this would be an extra, and maybe I'd get a credit on this. This is me and the director's sister, who was one of the beloved caterers, and I think I'm filming what we would be eating after the day's shoot. I say "beloved" because they were always on-hand with delicious food, which for a diabetic, was quite handy. And somehow, I felt more of a kinship with the caterers than I did with some of the other crew-members because, as I stated in the last post, my passion for movie-making was lacking by this point. It was certainly all my fault, of course, but the fire just wasn't there for me.
Here's really scrawny Matt Dursin, wading into the water to hold up a boom mic for the water scene. Like I said previously, I don't remember what the story of this scene was, but I remember it getting really dark and the water was kind of murky. I also remember feeling actually useful on that day, rather than just sticking a camera in everyone's face. It's also very obvious that I wasn't hitting the gym very much. But I did like those boxers.
These next two aren't much, either. they were shot in the diner which was the location for a few scenes, including the final one. That was the night that everyone was feeling good, because it was like a weight being lifted. After a couple weeks of long days, we had reached the end. Of course, judging by my face, I was still not happy, but that's just me not smiling in pictures. I do that sometimes.
Now, the story of these photos is a little less fun. I found these buried in a bin of old crap that I've been moving around with me since 2003, the year Keri and I moved in together and subsequently broke up. They were once in a photo book she had made for, attached to a page labeled Indie-Anna, "Anna" being her character's name in the movie. She had also written on the page "Who says you haven't done anything with your film degree?" I guess that's true, and cutesy at the time, but to be perfectly honest, I think I probably could have majored in accounting and done the same job on the set. I shouldn't grouse so much, because it was probably more the fact that I didn't know these people that I wasn't given more responsibility, and I should have felt lucky to be brought in at all. Like everything else, it was a matter of timing. At the time, three weeks without pay, and nothing to show for it in the end, does kind of sour the experience.
However, one thing I never considered came to me when I unearthed an email from the director. She mentioned that we was raising funding for a short that she could shoot on one location, so she could "achieve the kind of quality that wasn't possible on Universe." (Interestingly, I don't think I ever mentioned that the title of the film was A Universe Emerging. I think it was a quote from... somebody.) In retrospect, she maybe was editing the movie and decided it just didn't turn out the way she was hoping it would. It was probably a good experience for her, and after googling her, it looks like she's still acting and creating, but maybe the reason I never saw a copy of A Universe Emerging was because it wasn't worth seeing. I certainly don't go around showing people Dursin the Firestarter or the first couple issues of The Secret Monkey hoping that it would land me a job. I mean, there are certainly worse movies out there than this one (Hell, there are worse films than Dursin the Firestarter), but she may have just not been happy with it and moved on to better things, as most creative people do. Except Kevin Smith. He's basically still making us watch Clerks over and over.
They say every picture tells a story, and I think every picture also has a story. These pictures, rescued as they were from that photobook, have a story. That photobook was given to me by Keri weeks after we broke up, I think on the advice from her therapist as a way to show me that we had been through a lot and I should realize that and give her another shot (I guess). While that was certainly not happening, I appreciated the effort put into it, despite the fact that she had also put a lot of effort into ruining my life around that time. A year or so later, she emailed me asking for it back so she could use the photos for a class project she had been working on. When I emailed her back saying I would drop it by, I mentioned that time had allowed me to take some responsibility for the break-up as well, and I felt bad about the way things had gone down. She responded by saying something about it was nobody's business, and then she wrote again saying, "Please don't respond."
The next morning, I received what legend now calls The Hate Email, a very long document saying that she was happy now, but she still watched the nightly news hoping to see a story about me dying in a car accident. She said that I was weak, small and forgettable, and that I should burn the photobook, because she didn't want to remember herself that way. I was, in fact, a blight on her new life, because while it was so wonderful, the one piece of anger she had left was reserved for me. It ended (famously in my circles) with the line, "I hate you. I truly hate you."
While floored, not angry, I did exactly what she suggested and burned the book, saving only a few photos of myself, these being some of them. Fast-forward another year or so, and I received another email from Keri: The Apology Email, saying that I was right to break it off, I was right that the medications had changed her, that she was wrong not to go to therapy, and to take me for granted. That she missed me and the "unique way in which I saw the world." And most of all, she missed the hugs. We also talked on the phone not long after that, and really cleared the air for good. It was great to finally get that release, and finally move on.
Well, sort of. I do think a lot about that time. How could you not? It was one of those times that forms you for years to come. Now I can look back and realize it was what it was, and keep on keepin' on.
And reach for the corn.
