Internal clock status: broken.

Once again, Mother Nature threatens snow and ice, the teasing bitch. Of course, there will be plenty of crystals piled up on the stairwell outside in the morning, but nothing that a little salt and a windshield scraper won’t fix. Damn it.

Returning to Montevallo is always strange. I expect a huge rush of nostalgia, and end up with a feeling of deja vu instead. This time was no different; aside from the shoot in the Mass Comm building (which I had never entered until tonight), it was like being home — if home is a place that you sometimes wish you had never been, that is.

The shoot went well. Chuck Hartsell is a frighteningly funny guy — the Michael Bolton gag that will end up in the movie is a well-done light moment, which I hear that the script badly needs. Not that there are no funny moments — the dialogue was written with some in mind — but it’s not a comedy. I can’t write that. What I write is black and gloom — and I do that well. I guess that it is good that Chance and Chuck are lightening it up a bit — it would make great press (bad in the long run, I’m sure) to have people killing themselves at showings.

“Feel Good Movie of the Year,” indeed.

Directing is not my cup of tea. But neither is giving up control of my script.

Argh.

Must remember to put Jeanie (?) in the credits. Thanks go to her for the hassle-free use of the studio. Nice girl.

I need some salt in my life.

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