|
6/15/06 Dang, It's Another One
Hey Don’t take this issue's opening quote as being indicative of either my situation or mood right now, other than still being stuck here in Hotel Bitner (you can check out, but you can never LEAVE- and yes, I am a bit mortified to be quoting the shitbag Eagles, now that you mention it) things are going alarmingly well for our hero. No, the quote's an exhortation to any of you who may be going through an ugly time in your life right now to persevere and, to quote St. Andrew (of Mayberry), the sun's gonna shine in your back door someday. And to quote yet again, St. William (of Sin) this time, got love if you want it, babe (although you may end up with something entirely different in your back door). How are things here at the Hotel? Not great by any means, but not as bad as they've been. My Dad had his final scheduled surgery (till something else breaks down), this one for the cataracts in his left eye, it went well, right now he's about as strong and lucid as he's been since coming home- which is admittedly not saying a hell of a lot. He hasn't been too amusing of late, mostly just bitchy/cranky, nothing fucking suits him. He's been a huge pain in the bathroom lately- like giving his crabby, wrinkled, smelly old ass a shower is the highlight of MY day. He's been a goddamn mule kick in the butt lately about the water temperature, no matter how I adjust it, it's either too hot, or too cold. I spend ten fucking minutes anymore just getting the water to suit his insaniac standards and even then he still complains, earlier this week he's hollering that it's too hot, then before I can touch the knobs, he's hollering that it's too cold. Bill: Jesus Christ, which is it? Too hot, or too cold? I could have cheerfully drowned him right about then, but you know, he may actually have a point. "Because Bill is an asshole" is the correct answer to many a question. And speaking of drowning, just today, I think we're finished, I turn off the shower- D: You didn't get me rinsed off good. So I cranked the water back on really hard, wasn't paying any attention to where I was pointing the hand held shower thing- D: Hey- GLUB! Yep. Seeing as he's nothing but a damn fly catcher anymore he was sitting there with his mouth all gawped open, the shower spray shot right in, choked the fuck outta him, funny, you damn bet, but damn near drowned him for sure . . and there's no way I could ever convince a jury I didn't do it on purpose. He probably does have some justification in sometimes getting annoyed with our boy and the level of care I'm providing, I was then drying his hair maybe a bit too vigorously after re-rinsing (and near drowning) him, cos I was annoyed myself- D: God DAMN. Lighten up, indeed. Today was my first afternoon off in a week in a half (more about Mr. Hollywood later), so naturally I have to spend it running my parents asses around, taking my Mom back to the library so she could return some overdue books- she couldn't find them when they were due- that she'd checked out on MY card, cos, that's right, she couldn't find her library card when we'd gone to check out, then up to Drug Emporium for not the right kind of drugs, and then finally to Poca Supermarket (total miles 31, total time, 4 hours, 56 minutes).
At one point I'm a couple aisles over, I hear my Dad yelling and swearing at the top of his lungs, then- "Sorry. I thought you were my son." I wander over, he's doing this damn thing where he'll pull something off the shelf, say a jar of pickled onions, roll 30- 40 feet down the aisle looking at it, lose interest, and just stick it on another shelf, in with the baby beets or whatever, my Mom does the same thing, that kind of shit drives me crazy- B: Hey. HIPPIE. Just when I think he's called me every name in the book . . . let's move on, shall we? Rachel was in for less than a day over Memorial Day weekend, she brought me some of her prom photos which I think she looked spectacularly lovely in, but she doesn't agree (she's not her Daddy's girl in that respect), so I'll respect her wishes and won't run one in here, even though I would like to. She's doing well, all things considered, more like my sweet baby again, she may be back again this summer for a little more extended visit, maybe not (when I bitched to Loretta about not seeing any more of Rachel than I do- since she left here early last July, headed for Australia, she's been back for a grand total of 7- yeah, SEVEN, that's a not a misprint, or an exaggeration- days, I was told "Move to Baltimore". Yeah, right, like that wouldn't actually be Loretta's worst nightmare, come all ginned up to her door, "Hey, baby, remember THIS"). Been sporadic comments in the mailbag over the past few months remarking, in light of how she's been referred to in here, on how badly relations between Loretta and I appear have deteriorated over the past year, since we made nice so I could attend Sarah's graduation without there being any blood shed. Well, sirs and madams, you are absolutely correct, and all I can say is, IT AIN'T ME. (THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY. ABOUT EVERYTHING). Yeah, but this time it's true. (THAT'S ALSO WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY). Whatever. Look, I've TRIED getting along with her hateful ass since the graduation, that wasn't something I did just for show, I was fully fucking prepared to put the past behind us and just be civil with one another from here on out, till that blessed day when we don't have to interact with one another anymore. I've even made concessions this past year that were blatantly unfair to me, just like I used to do in the bad old end days of our time together, just to keep from fighting with her. It hasn't helped. I don't know what the problem is, I don't know why she's once again gotten so antagonistic toward me, but it is most decidedly NOT because I haven't done my damnedest to get along with her. Some people get the very wrong impression of me that I like to fight, not at all, I fucking HATE it, it's pretty much all I grew up with, just because I joke about all the many conflicts I went through when I was younger doesn't necessarily mean I liked them, my only thing is, if I have to fight, then mother fucker, I'm gonna fight to win, cos while fighting sucks, fighting and losing sucks more. Fuck, both girls have told me independently that Loretta's pissy with just about everyone anymore, pissy with both of them, even pissy with Mr. Golden Dome, so maybe she just ain't fucking happy. I know she was all angsted out about having to buy a fat girl bathing suit to take on the cruise she and Paul went on this past week (I wouldn't have been Paul this week for TEN MILLION DOLLARS, also, don't look at me, big boy, I kept her damn ass in shape, you need to fuck her more, if you can stand it, make her get on top and work that stuff), and I also know she's gone off more than once recently about how hard she has to work, and how precious her little bit of free time is- like someone else is the drooling idiot that forces her to spend over FOUR hours on a commuter train each and every work day?
Sarah's boyfriend Evan came down from New Jersey to visit her last weekend, Sarah said they had a very nice time, I'm very glad. Sarah also joined the work force this week, got a summer job (although at the wage she tells me she's making it sounds more like indentured servitude- make sure they take you with them to the New World, baby) that started Monday, as a server at some restaurant called "Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger". As for me, I'm not exactly gonna say that work is for suckers- (I'LL SAY IT. WORK IS FOR SUCKERS). No, not really. Look, this world needs worker bees to keep it running, so drones like us can do . . . whatever it is drones like us do. (SLEEP LATE, DRINK WORKER BEE'S BEER, FUCK STRIPPERS- AND WOMEN WHO JUST LOOK LIKE STRIPPERS- READ LOTS OF BOOKS, LISTEN TO LOTS OF MUSIC, JERK OFF, DRINK MORE WORKER BEE'S BEER, WRESTLE, MAKE MOVIES . . . ) Yeah . . . and don't forget writing a newsletter so we can rub all the worker bee's faces in it. (THAT'S THE BEST PART). 'Deed it is. Maybe we should once again move on . . . Movie Club- (HEY. THE FIRST RULE OF MOVIE CLUB IS THAT WE DON'T TALK ABOUT MOVIE CLUB). -went to see X-Men while the girls were in, it wasn't too good, some good fight scenes (and I liked how the super heroes and villains killed one another, cos I think that's how it would really be), Kelsey Grammar was spot on as The Beast, but overall the reviews are actually right for once, way too many underdeveloped characters and subplots for the amount of movie, if you haven't already seen it I'd wait till someone I knew rented it and then go watch it at their house. And drink their beer. Afterward, we went up to Chris's house for some beers (Harpoon IPA for Bill) and watched When World's Collide, and some Jonny Quest and Fireball XL-5- I mentioned that since I'm playing guitar and singing in this movie- more later- I should do the Fireball theme, Chris said we should save it for the DFZ movie, and I agree. That morning I'd gone to Oak Hill to wrestle for TV, which leads us to- I don't want to play Dear God, if that's not going to be the DF's new ring entrance music. As it stands now there are no Falconettes, The Lone Ring Girl making her previously unmentioned monetary requirements known as we were on our way to Oak Hill- Lone Ring Girl: I want fifty dollars. Jesus- you would've thought I told her she was dumb as a damn rock and not really all that good in bed. (YOU DID, ACTUALLY). Well, yeah. Later. She wasn't too thrilled about being told that I wasn't going to turn around and take her back to Charleston, either- not being a prick, there was simply no time, TV taping talent have to be on time or you throw the whole production off. She was going to Oak Hill, once she got there she could work for free like the rest of us (I mean, I was going to buy her lunch, fuck), or not work, or see if she could talk Brian into paying her $50 (good luck), cos I sure as hell wasn't going to. We get to Oak Hill, she tells Brian she wants $50, he says okay, then tells her what he wants in return, she gets all mad at ME. LTR: You son of a BITCH. Do you know what he just said to me! And it went downhill from there. I don't know, maybe I was a dick to LRG, but I don't think so, I mean, I was genuinely perplexed by the whole thing. Money was never, ever mentioned, at any time, fuck, she approached ME (ask Joe, he was fucking there, the first time, anyway), I didn't ask her to put the outfit together, or even be a Falconette, I was chasing someone else, I thought her whole LRG deal was about getting up close and personal with the Death Falcon, and it certainly was at first, if it was also about bucks, fucking say so, we could've worked something out, I'm sure, but don't try to hold my ass up on the way to work, that's not cool. As for the TV matches, DFZ went over on Hillbilly's giant ass first hour with his patented loaded mask head butt- although even when I beat that big hairy fucker I come away sore as hell- then, to set up for the big barbed wire match at Blue Ridge Resurrection on July 1, second hour DFZ pinned Buzzsaw Jones after two Falcon busters onto a metal chair in what was the first (and sadly, last) ever AWA APEX Hardcore match. Why last, you ask? Because, unfortunately, APEX is about done. Dammit. I can't say that I'm surprised, it's been hemorrhaging money pretty much since the start, a bunch of bills came due at the beginning of June that Brian couldn't cover, including the lease on the "studio arena", and that was that. No more building, so no more Tuesday night shows (which was their major source of income), also no more Saturday TV, and (double dammit) no more Blue Ridge Resurrection. Brian's going to keep his AWA charter and try just running Sabine and Summersville while he tries to regroup, but the writing is most certainly on the wall, and it reads "APEX, we hardly knew ye". Supposedly the big AWA show 9/8 at WV State is still on, but I'm not holding my breath. DFZ will be appearing at XMCW in Nitro 7/8 to do a squash/run in to set up for the now transplanted barbed wire match- (TECHNICALLY, IT'S A HARDCORE OPEN BARBED WIRE TEXAS TORNADO STREET FIGHT-) Yeah, that sounds real technical. Gonna be a fucking wrestling clinic, that one. (YOUR DAD'S RIGHT, YOU ARE A FUCKING SMART ASS). Anyway, that one will be 8/12, DFZ will probably be working Regatta again this year for XMCW as well. What else has Bill been up to? Went to a cook out at Joe and Laura's Saturday before last, a sort of combined graduation party for Gordon (high school), and Jack and Mary's son, Jason, (college), congratulations to both you boys. Had an excellent time, got hammered with the Rat Pack (sans Pete, we missed ya), I think I got more buzzed up on the cigars than I did the beer. And it was a good experience beyond the buzz.
I also made peace with Miss Impetuous at the cook out, once again, a good thing. You can't capture lightning in a bottle twice- in fact, I hadn't even captured it once, I only thought I had, more fool Bill- but certainly it's much better to be friends- less intense this go around by a factor of infinity, perhaps, but still friends- than not.
Speaking of photos, in last issue, that color photo of Barbara Eden (barely) in red may be my favorite photo of anything, ever. What's Bill been reading? Well, in honor of my getting into the biz, Easy Riders And Raging Bulls, about the films of the 70's, if the stuff in this book is even remotely true then a lot of great movies were made by some pretty loathsome people (William Friedkin should be fucking skinned alive) and The Other Hollywood, an oral- no smart comments- history about the porn film industry, not all that titillating, in fact it reads more like a true crime book considering all the involvement organized crime- they say had, not has, yeah, right- with porn in the 70's and 80's. I found it amusing that one of the two hitmen who killed- someone, I didn't recognize the name, meant to write it down and didn’t- was named Willy Bittner. Yo. Also read yet another book about the Beach Boys, it was non sanctioned so of course it was full of dirt, you've got to take this kind of book with a grain of salt, but again, if even a small part of it is factual it only proves that you don't have to have brains, morals, or a lick of sense to sing pretty. What's Bill been listening to? Just stuff that's already been discussed in here at length, no new SSSLB music, maybe next issue. Although I referred to one CD last issue as being by both Marshall Chapman and Marshall Crenshaw- it was most definitely Crenshaw. Marshall Chapman- ugh. What's Bill drinking? What else- Pabst Blue Ribbon. I was pretty ticked when I got to Joe's last weekend to find he had no PBR- I know it takes a special kind of guy to get pissed off at someone for them giving you free beer, and it's not the right free beer, that would be me- but I'm telling you, PBR has such a strong taste- "full flavored" is the marketing euphemism, just like "full figured" is the lonely hearts euphemism for big as your goddamn car- that once you've acquired it, most everything else just comes up a little lacking. The Scourge Of Hollywood. Boy, do I like the sound of that, even though we're really just talking about The Scourge Of Huntington right now. I have been busy, busy, BUSY, just like a worker bee except this shit is FUN, not work, since Sunday last, on this 16 to Life shoot. It's time consuming as fuck, you block the scene, then they spend literally hours getting the lights and sounds "right", you rehearse the scene, then they spend another hour or two "tweaking", then you take. I've been putting in 12- 16 hour days every day, and while I'm having just a HELL of a time, it's also fucking exhausting. The crew is from all over- NYC, Canada, Oregon, Pittsburgh, Athens, Ohio- and very experienced, done a lot of big movie stuff, the main shooter- I think the title is Director of Photography, not sure- Meg, just got done shooting Cthulhu, which will be out next year, and which she swears will be the best Lovecraft movie adaptation ever (not that it has much competition). Making a lot of good contacts, if I want to keep doing this shit. And I want to keep doing this shit. And not to, ahem, blow my own horn too much, but the first few days everyone kept telling me how good my acting was, kept asking me "What else have you been in?", when I'd say "Nothing" they didn't believe it, they'd say, "You are so comfortable in front of the camera, it's unreal", hey, except for you guys being here, I've been doing this all my life, I've been the star of the science fiction black comedy soap opera porn film called "The Bill Bitner Story" going on 50 years now, day two or so Meg and I were talking about the scene we were about to shoot, with all the huge, hot lights glaring down- you're telling me in 2006 still the only way to film natural looking light is to overlight by about a million times? apparently- and a boom mike, just out of frame but still jammed right up in my face, and she goes- M: I admire you actors your ability to behave so naturally, in such an
unnatural situation. Oh yeah, did I mention, except for the two sound guys, and one gofer, this is an all female crew? Is that a good thing? Oh YEAH. This can lead to situations like one last week. To simulate TV light on my face, they set a kino (or keno or Keeno, never seen it spelled, just heard it said) light on the floor and Dominika (how she spells it), the very cute French Canadian gaffer (I got your gaff right here, babe, try not to get hung up on it) lays down on her back between it and me and waves her arms languorously in front of the light. Does this simulate television light? Fuck if I know, just don't stop. We go for a take. Mandy: Action . . . action . . . uh, Bill? Danny gave me the "be professional, don't fuck the crew" lecture first day, and I am being. But come wrap party . . . One thing different from a Danny shoot is his "no alcohol" rule, which, actually, is probably a pretty good one. I show up at ten (am) last Tuesday to shoot this card playing scene, the guys are supposed to be drinking beer in the scene, it's in a bar, so they set us up with real beers. Hot dog. One guy is like, "I can't drink beer this early, can you pour this out and fill it with water?" Bill: Are you CRAZY? I drank his beer real quick and gave him the empty back to fill with (Jesus) water. And during set up and rehearsal I drank five more- B: Prop boy? Oh, prop boy? Another prop beer here, please. Mandy comes and goes while things are being set up, so she's not really aware of how much beer I'm putting away till the prop guy rats me out- M: Bill, oh my gosh! Have you really drunk six beers? Al's been quite impressed by me being in a movie- Al: You're in a movie, huh? The thing is, I'm positive he was being serious. My mom's reaction to all this is to tell everyone she knows, "Wow, Bill's in a movie", only to give me this "I don't know why you're fooling with this movie stuff when you know your Dad and I need you here" shit. Typical. My Dad's been calling me Mr. Hollywood, every night when ever I come in, no matter how late it is, he'll holler "Here comes Mister Hollywood!", the other night I asked him if he wanted my autograph, when he said "Sure", I said "Well you can't have my autograph, old man!" which sent him into hysterics, he's a strange, strange person. D: When are you going to make a Western?
(BREAK A LEG). Will do. I can feel my restless mind Later Mister Hollywood
|
"If
you’re going through hell, keep going".
My
Dad's well enough to wheel himself one armed around in the store so I let
him, once again doing his impression of Zippy the Chimp on crack,
compounded by the fact that he still insists on wearing the humongous
black wraparound plastic shades that the eye surgeon gave him to wear ONLY
THE DAY OF HIS SURGERY, which was two weeks ago, cos I think for some
demented reason he thinks he looks cool in them, so he's Zippy the Fucking
Blind Chimp (on crack), between him and my Mom it was like a goddamn
demolition derby, they ran into every single person in that store at least
twice.
So,
again, whatever, I may get all calf eyed about the old days, (speaking of,
last week I found an old photo of Loretta, while looking for something
else entirely, taken the very damn day, referenced last issue, when Sarah
was conceived, I'll get it to Joe to include in here) but as far as she
walks and talks these days, I don't care anymore, one way or the other,
swear to God, just quit busting my fucking balls every time I'm forced to
deal with you.
We
(that would be the DF and me) are no longer estranged from once and future
Falconette Anita (this issue's title courtesy of her, since it's
apparently what she says every time a new one of these turns up in her
mailbox), a very good thing, I feel like a weight's been taken off of my
chest. She's just back from a Mediterranean cruise, and lest you ever
thought it was simply my hard to get along with ass's perspective, the
bastard whoreson French (not French Canadians, another matter entirely)
have not changed one iota since I (or my Dad, or his Dad before him for
that matter) ran afoul of them back in the day, even a sweet girl like
Anita found them to be sleaze dripping pig turds who walk like humans. God
damn them, every one.
I
was also terribly impressed with Jason's girlfriend- so impressed I can't
remember her name, but that's a reflection on my sorry state at the time,
not her- she was very bright and personable, and can turn her feet around
backward (just like a wendigo, watch yourself, man) which Ron took a photo
of, it, and a couple other photos from the cookout will be in the on-line
NL.
Probably
should go, I'm really tired, it's back to the celluloid salt mines
tomorrow, only have one scene that I know of, unless we go back and do
some pick ups, but it’s my biggest, as in longest, scene in the movie, 3
plus pages, but it's simple shit, just a bunch of "You're not a Dad,
you're an irresponsible drunk" "And you're an ungrateful little
piss ant"- I know, acting, who's acting, not me, that's for sure.
Still, tell me to break a leg.