The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist. And like that... he is gone.

If you think the title is too cliche tough shit, it's my last entry and I'll do as I please. Yep, last ever entry until I start a different blog. Hmm, stay tuned and you'll find out all about it, if it in fact it comes into being. If you're a fan of Savannah she'll know before I do when I do the new blog.

I flew into LAX yesterday morning at 12:30 and since this is Los Angeles I didn't get to my home until 3pm. Where does the time go? Lost in traffic and wrong turns and shortcuts that turn into longcuts I suppose. It didn't really matter anyway as I had to got straight to Panavision and prep a camera for a music video shooting overnight tonight. It's funny, I was so happy to be on the prep floor with a bunch of other people who I hadn't seen in two months. It was nice to have that familiar feeling of belonging again. The gear even felt nice in my hands, that's how happy I was to be home.

Speaking of home, it's a mess. I forgot to tell my pal that I was coming home so she didn't get a chance to straighten up. Oh well, it'll all get sorted eventually and all will be well-balanced and happy again. I'm just happy to be in my bed, in my room that really is bigger than the Ikea yurt, with my girl and my dog all cuddled up and peaceful. Yeah, so I'm up too early and need to stock the fridge and buy toilet paper and clean up a ton of dog hair and get Ghost groomed and then go to work but hey, I'm home!

You've all been way too kind to me and my creative shortcomings. Hey everybody, thanks for reading!

I am just a figment of your imagination.

Ah, lovely dinner with Ma and Grandma and now I'm back at the house and feeling full and warm and tired. So nice to be back, to be out of The Suck. No worries, really, just going to fade out and wake up for a plane ride and then it's off to prep a camera. Yeah, back to work right off the bat because I'm a whore and they're paying in cold, hard cash. Booyakasha, gimmie danger. I'm so very tired right now that I can't even tell if the Greek place we went to was as good as I think it was. I may have been so shocked at having good food that it now tastes like four star food. Who cares. It made me happy to sit and have a nice meal with my family and not be freezing. I miss the guys, though. It was fun running around like total losers and then going out on the town like total kings. It will be nice to get home and see the Pearl and Tortuga again. I hope they haven't forgotten me, I want my spot at the bar back I tells ya.

Hmm, time to fade to black.

Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago.

Sorry about not posting on Sunday but the day was as much of a wash as Saturday. I basically woke up at the ass crack of dawn and spent the rest of the day on various planes and trains and automobiles. I did manage to finally have a good pizza at my favorite joint, Vinni Van GoGo's. Such a nice change from crappy Swedish pizza! I'm not even really home and I'm already feeling this insane sense of relief that I'm not in Stockholm anymore. It's hot here and it's only 8:30am! Imagine what it will be like at noon! Mom is here, dog is here, and I think the rest of the day will be spent eating and dealing with billing for the last two weeks of the movie. Nice.

Speaking of the movie: Friday, the last day of the movie, was ridiculous. They scheduled a million shots utilizing three cameras and short ends. A short end is what you call the remainder of a roll of film. Usually, a roll of film for a 35mm movie camera is enough for four minutes of shooting but sometimes we don't use the whole four minutes. What's left is a short end and is usually a minute or two of film. We generated so fucking many short ends on this movie that it kind of became a running joke. Yeah, real funny until the bean counters finally figure out what the whole department already knew: lots of short ends represent lots of lost money unless you shoot 'em. So we did, with three cameras all day and it sucked. We brought in an extra guy and he sucked. All in all, the last day should have been mellow and kind of fun but ended up being a complete nightmare. And then they hit me with the crane. Yeah, right after the martini (last shot of the day) the 1st AD and the director's assistant knocked Henrik, the DP, into the pool even though he was holding the crane. He falls in, the crane hits me in the shoulder and the face and pins my bad leg against the other camera. Good times. Busted lip, sore shoulder, and that's a wrap on Hassan!

At least the party was an all night rager! I think the photos from Saturday's post just sort of explain themselves so there you go. Oh, I dropped my camera at the party so no more photos. Wah!

If I saw myself dressed like that, I'd have to kick my own ass.

My head hurts. Stop reading so loudly!

And what, to flog a horse, that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring, does this little square represent?

Went out with J, came back to the Ikea Yurt with possessions in pocket, and am, as of last post, a little tipsy. Just saw something on TV that gave my inebriated brain pause. T'were a line, a quote, a bit of verbiage from a forgettable bit of Americana that led me to the realization that yes, the lil' bit o' dialogue that I heard was apropos: When your friends don't ask you for help, that's the bottom of the barrel. I've been feeling that my friends, my old friends, don't like me anymore cuz I'm an adulterous jackass. Yeah, they've all, on their own over the years, told me that the X is a bit much BUT I talk to all of them so very much less these days that it makes me wonder. Do they still respect me? Or are they, in that way that made you cry when your parents said it, DISAPPOINTED in me? Maybe. Maybe not. Most likely I'm too damn sensitive, but it still hurts. BULLSHIT! You're a mixed race, semi-suburban punk just like me! Yeah, but it still hurts. Why did I just quote "Repo Man"? See, that's my problem, I can't even have an actual emotional experience of my own life, however meditated by both booze and the Intranet, without getting some dumb movie or TV show involved in the whole affair. Am I emotionally stunted, retarded, crazy, or just plain no-good? Am I salvageable? Two months of relative solitude in Stockholm have led me to the same conclusion as sitting around with Ghost in my place in LA: I don't know. I just don't know and maybe I'll never know and I don't know if I should know or care to know or know know know know know know no no no no no. Fuck it, I'm done and I think I need a lot of help or I don't and I'm just fucked.

Never watch TV when you're alone and in a stupid country and you showed up full of self-doubt and self-loathing. In short, don't leave home for answers because they probably won't come to you and you'll just be left with a hefty fucking air line ticket.

Interesting. I've been stabbed, and I've been hanged, and I've been burned. Even broken on the rack once, but I've never been shot before.

I know this blog has gotten completely boring since I stopped constantly bitching but goddammit! I just don't care! I gots one more day of work, two nights of alcohol abuse and I'm on a plane back to Savannah. I know it ain't LA but fuck, it ain't here and that makes it A-O-FUCKIN-K in my book! Holy shit, even the Swedes are ready to run for the hills on this one. Check this out, my buddy Jonathan, the grip with three guys worth of shit and he's on his own, is starting another Swedish film on Monday (I leave on Sunday) but the powers that be decided to add a Sunday shoot to the schedule. They asked me to show up and help out but I lied and said my flight was "yo, so crazy early, sorry bro," and that seemed to work. Poor J, he's a good guy and way too dedicated to this movie. I keep telling him to quit the next movie and this one at the same time. Won't do it, better man than me. I just want to get the hell out of here and see a doctor and hopefully save what's left of my leg.

J and I went to Garlic and Shots tonight and made quite a scene. Day before last, might as well go out like drunk champs! The bar staff thought we were the most hilarious dicks they'd ever seen and the other patrons actually cheered when we left. Always leave an impression, that's what I say! Especially at a bar you'll never come back to since it's in frozen-ass Stockholm. Nah, I'll probably be back at some time if only to see what this frozen small town is really like when the sun comes out. Will there be hot, slutty six foot tall blondes around every corner? Will I care either way? Will Björn still be a lightweight? Only time and an expensive plane ticket will ever tell!

To all the mullets who have bothered reading this blog I say this: I love you each and every one and your blogs are much better than this one. Thanks for reading thus far, it might get better as tomorrow is the wrap party and my camera is going to be firing constantly. Stay tuned or get on with your much cooler lives.

Oh yeah, the food still bites but I can now bend my knee enough to sit down for at least two minutes without feeling lame. Good luck on the transatlantic flight, right! I'm doomed.

Chase 'em away! Chase 'em away! I'm afraid! Need your aid! Pink elephants on parade!

Hip hip hooray! Hip hip  hooray! Only two more days left but we're still finding ways to make the suck as sucky as can sucking suck. Yeah, welcome to the suck. Today we managed to get a crane stuck in the rafters, stretch one fucking scene into overtime, and generally frustrate the entire cast. I'm not sure how it happens but dammit if we ain't good at doin' it! My god I can't wait to get home.

I was asked what is the first thing I'm going to do when I get home. I answered, and was mocked for saying so, "I'm going to sit on my couch and have a beer with my dog." I don't see what's so bad about that answer, I mean seriously, what the fuck else am I going to do? I'll be tired, hurt, and completely discombobulated by having been gone for two months so why not let the dog get used to home and let my ass get used to my comfy couch. I'm also going to unpack of course and probably get some good Mexican food down the block. Ah, home, home, home, I can't wait to be at home. I'm also going to go to the beach as soon as possible and do absolutely nothing except sit in the sun and get a tan. Joy.

Stitches come out in a week and two weeks after that it's back to surfing and skating and hopefully walking without my leg hurting. Oh, I'll never dance the jitterbug again, Daphne, but we'll have a swell life, you'll see. Swell!