October 13th, 2012, the year of our Lord.
A few days ago we took a Homeric sojourn back down to the land named after the late great Queen Mary - Maryland. And this time it was not just the rag-tag squadron that you have become so lovingly and begrudgingly acquainted with. This time we had our wiz-kid of a gaffer, Rome Petersson, to hold up a proverbial lantern whenever the sun would submerge itself in the Westernmost brackish, vile, and unforgiving waters of the Chesapeake Bay.
It was dark and rainy on the way down. It always is and always will be. As our Honda Civic sputtered down down US-301, gasping for that salubrious petroleum, we came across a singular source of flickering light. What choice did we have but to venture forth? And, to all of our relief, the light turned out to be housed in a cozy establishment known as "Arby's". We were greeted there by a kindly and merry manager, named Bill (or Phil, Bob, or Bo Rae?) who promptly offered us giant cups of whatever soda we pleased. In New York, we are given pittances of pop thanks to the dictatorial decree of our mayor. Then out came the combos - my God! The combos! An array of pink(ish) roast beef and brown(ish) grilled chicken all laid atop the ever-absorbent white buns. Once our hunger was vanquished and a twinkle restored to all of our eyes, we kept on trucking down that lonesome and glistening road. I can still hear Bil (sic) laughing and wishing us a safe journey as he hurled his cap into the air with a fervent wish of success for me and my men.
Then we arrived. We slept for five hours and got up with the sun and started shooting. The corn was pressed down to the soil, as dead as Jacob Marley (sp?). The sun beat down on some of our receding hairlines with merciless gumption. Yet, despite these exaggerated hardships, it was one of the more useful trips we've ever been on.
In accordance with this promise, each scene was blocked and the preexisting logistical puzzles were solved. The house, as you know, is old. So every time one thinks there is a simple solution then one must think again. On one scene, we spent a thorough three hours trying to wrap our minds around how it would be blocked - for the hallways constricted and labyrinthine at the same time. Then, walking out of the house for some fresh air, a solution hit us that ended up being a new idea entirely; and it will lead to a scene in the film that we believe will have the audience in awe.
Now, with only 2.5 weeks to go, we prepare in this teeming metropolis of filth and opportunity by accruing the rest of our dream team and the equipment needed to machete our way into the heart of project. Every other trip until this point has just been reconnaissance. The next time we cross the Mason-Dixon will be the time of reckoning.
But I'm off. The missuz has put a kettle on to boil and I dare not omit a decent cup of molasses tea.
To be continued.