So they finished up shooting over at the park yesterday (I walked past Will Ferrell!). There's this older musician that sets up everyday of the week by the entrance to the La Brea tar pits with his guitar and banjo. He plays old folk songs targeted at the kids (and thus their parents) who frequent the museum. As I was leaving yesterday, I walked by him as usual, except this time he had hit the big time. Apparently the director had become smitten with him over the course of the week and decided that they needed him in the movie. There was a girl micing him up and getting him pretty, as others lit him.
L.A. effects you in that weird way. I've walked past dozens of movie/t.v. shoots since I've been here, lots of photographers. There's almost always that little wiggle in the back of the brain that says "well maybe they'll notice me". They haven't (except for my tremendous extra work earlier on this year). Not even the dog (who's cuter then me). But the thought (is it vanity?) is kind of exciting.
I went to see Bob Mould (of Husker Du fame) across the street at the El Rey a couple nights ago. I pray that I rock as hard when I'm his age.
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