yeah, no laundry after all...
I should go to the laundry. No, there's no emergency. What I meant is, it's one in the morning and I don't feel like doing anything. So I probably should go to the laundry. Except I won't of course.
These past weeks have been busy. It feels good to be working on several projects at the same time again, even if they are just temporary.
So this company producing documentaries went to Europe to take the temperature regarding anti-American feelings over there. They went to France too. They even spent a full day at Canal Plus with Les Guignols de l'Info. From the writing to the late afternoon rehearsal and finally the show live, they've seen it all.
If you know at least the minimum about France, then you know what this show is and why I was so excited when they took me and Sara to transcribe what all those French people are saying on the tapes before they have it translated.
I've been doing that during daytime in the past week. And at night, I was working on translating another documentary (for another prod. company) awfully written and full of mistakes. To crown it all it was on the history of the Catholic popes. Really, the style was like sheer Christian propaganda. And working at the restaurant on weekends, of course. It sounds like I must be making a lot of dough. Actually, I don't. Restaurant pays a little but it's only weekends. The other jobs, I do them because I prefer that to waitering, even if it pays less.
The other documentary, the one on Les Guignols, their office is in Times Square. Since they are behind of schedule, I often stay late at night, when everybody's gone. The office is in an old building. A kind of loft on the 20 something floor. If it was only depending on me, I would only work in offices at night. When everybody's gone and the phones are silent and the city sparkles below.
The other night, I had a life-is-good flash. They haven't been that much of them these past months because life has rather showed be what a filthy bitch she can be too. That night, after everybody left, I turned off the lights I didn't need and took a Lexomil. By the time I felt the familiar warmth runs through my body the night was slowly coming and the sky was only beautiful layers of red and pink and blue and violet. But sitting there alone in that office overlooking the glittering city, the cool air coming in from the open windows and bringing along the roar of the city -- the fire trucks sirens and the pointless honking and the echoes of announcements in nearby Port Authority -- being paid by the hour to watch the only French show worth watching and laughing my ass off, for a little while everything was fine and nothing mattered.
Nothing is real, everything is permitted.
These past weeks have been busy. It feels good to be working on several projects at the same time again, even if they are just temporary.
So this company producing documentaries went to Europe to take the temperature regarding anti-American feelings over there. They went to France too. They even spent a full day at Canal Plus with Les Guignols de l'Info. From the writing to the late afternoon rehearsal and finally the show live, they've seen it all.
If you know at least the minimum about France, then you know what this show is and why I was so excited when they took me and Sara to transcribe what all those French people are saying on the tapes before they have it translated.
I've been doing that during daytime in the past week. And at night, I was working on translating another documentary (for another prod. company) awfully written and full of mistakes. To crown it all it was on the history of the Catholic popes. Really, the style was like sheer Christian propaganda. And working at the restaurant on weekends, of course. It sounds like I must be making a lot of dough. Actually, I don't. Restaurant pays a little but it's only weekends. The other jobs, I do them because I prefer that to waitering, even if it pays less.
The other documentary, the one on Les Guignols, their office is in Times Square. Since they are behind of schedule, I often stay late at night, when everybody's gone. The office is in an old building. A kind of loft on the 20 something floor. If it was only depending on me, I would only work in offices at night. When everybody's gone and the phones are silent and the city sparkles below.
The other night, I had a life-is-good flash. They haven't been that much of them these past months because life has rather showed be what a filthy bitch she can be too. That night, after everybody left, I turned off the lights I didn't need and took a Lexomil. By the time I felt the familiar warmth runs through my body the night was slowly coming and the sky was only beautiful layers of red and pink and blue and violet. But sitting there alone in that office overlooking the glittering city, the cool air coming in from the open windows and bringing along the roar of the city -- the fire trucks sirens and the pointless honking and the echoes of announcements in nearby Port Authority -- being paid by the hour to watch the only French show worth watching and laughing my ass off, for a little while everything was fine and nothing mattered.
Nothing is real, everything is permitted.
posted by Cecyl at 1:43 AM
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