Periphery

While walking the boy-dogs this afternoon, we had to maneuver around and under some sound equipment. Filming in the street (& sidewalks) four blocks away. Robert said they caught me scooping the poo. Look for it on youtube, I’m wearing a blue tank top.

Tonight, being Sunday, I took my mother to dinner. We went to Frank’s* --- which will be closed for filming next Wednesday.

That’s the thing. Here, we take the Industry for granted. We’re used to the ubiquitous white trucks, the extraordinary inconvenience. People who don’t work in and for the biz, know people who do. Non-professionally, I know actors who tend bar, actors who don’t, stuntmen, set-builders, drivers, researchers, grips, editors, directors, A.D.s, voice guys, craft service--- not to mention the occasional animator (wink) and computer guy. Hell, you all are reading this, well, a flattering lot of you, anyhow. (I’m not counting the writers, because I don’t think that’s mathematically possible. Besides, you know who you are.)

We don’t blink when a Famous Person goes by. Character actors are more interesting than stars because of the effort required trying to remember what we know them from. So when the guy last night said “in production” of course I assumed he was Industry, not in an assembly line somewhere. Just like you did. Unless you’re reading this first, in which case, scroll down to the next post, “Overheard”. I’ll wait. No, really, read it now.

Good. Because yesterday I was planning a post about what it’s like to live on the periphery of the entertainment industry, and that was before I was hit with all the filming today. What was going to be a metaphor, became one of those coincidences inappropriately called irony. Now all my pithy observations seem redundant somehow, so I’ll stop here.

*The old chef from Genio’s Italian Restaurant is now at Frank’s coffee shop on Olive, just west of Victory. He’s only there at night, so the dinner specials are surprisingly good. Melva had the sand dabs, and they were terrific.