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Int: A dimly lit office, in the middle of the night.

First things first… Holy shit, that was fast.  We hit 500 readers 3 days ago and I thought that was a milestone, but we’re already over 600. So, hello everybody, and thanks for stopping by to read my ramblings as the show goes on, and even when it doesn’t.

Things have gone so well, that I actually don’t know what to write about today.  How’s that for a good week!  Next week they’ll be plenty to write about.  I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  But this weekend it’s supposed to be kind of dry, somewhat sunshiny and almost warm, so it’s the best filming day we’ve had yet!   Hey, it’s just the kind of luck we have.  And we’re over it…

So I think I’ll dedicate this one to my mom, who has actually volunteered to be one of the zombies in the movie.  My dad has an allergy to latex, which pretty much put the kibosh on him making an appearance.  But, I will say, there’s something fun about talking your mom into being in a movie she would never actually watch.

Okay, let me rephrase that, because now, she has to watch it.  And then she has to confess to her friends “Yes, my son made …that…”  And then she’ll probably have to apologize.

I don’t mean that in a bad way.  She’s the person that introduced me to The Exorcist, and The Omen.  She definitely appreciates a good horror film. She’s also the reason I still watch black and white films, and the reason why I will stop whatever I’m doing if I find “The Razor’s Edge” with Tyrone Powers and Gene Tierney.  If you’ve never seen it, it’s a different kind of movie.  So much so, that it’s hard to fathom that it was made in 1946.  It’s really where I started to appreciate dark personal dramas.

For those not familiar with the movie, it’s about a World War One vet who comes back from the war, and starting in the roaring 20’s begins a search for meaning, which is scoffed at by his socialite friends.  It’s pretty much the juxtaposition of The Great Gatsby, not that there’s a lack of love for F. Scott Fitzgerald… but given the choice, I’ll take The Razor’s Edge.  It’s less mystery and more personal.

In a very tangible way, my mom is the reason this movie is written the way it is, and I can’t thank her enough for introducing me to some of the films I probably never would have watched if she hadn’t been my mom, and for shaping my sensibilities.

I hope when it’s all said and done, that the movie roots show through.  I hope people get it.  I hope she gets it.

Alright.  I’ve rambled enough, but hey, it’s cheaper than therapy…