working the end of fashion gig tonight. I've been strapped to the pod for the last couple of days, so dancing behind the bar is going to be a well-deserved groove.
Shoot days for Miara, the narrative peice written by my favourite brasilian expat have been settled on, as well- first week in October. I think I've had sufficient rest from filming. After the insane first six months of this year, I needed a break. But I'm keen to get my AD boots back on and manage the bejezus out of you punk monk folk- and the ring in crew too. No one here is safe.
And while I do see the irony in saying this in a blog- I thought I was self-absorbed until I saw this this morning:
Kind of reminds me of the time that I left my new digital camera alone at home with my old flatmate. When I came home, there were 265 photos of her (the total capacity of the memory card), all taken from arms length. Apparently she didn't know how to delete them. I reckon she just ran out of space to take more.
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