Oneironaut

3/31/09
6:47 am

No sleep last night…( Americano induced insomnia), and at this point, it does not make sense to try. 9:00am call time. I’ll just read a bit before I “wake up”, and shower. It would be very easy to listen to my body, and cancel the scene. I have never canceled a scene in my entire career, and Christian, the producer is a friend. I’m gonna need caffeine, but I remember that I forgot to get fresh ground beans at the market.

Fuck it…I’ll recycle that shit…I’ll just pack it in extra tight, and add less water.

I head to my espresso machine, and make a hot cup of molten squid ink. Showered and shaved, I scrape the chewable coffee into a Mickey Mouse mug and head off to set.

8:58 am

The set is a North Hollywood Mc Mansion, in a neatly manicured, homogenized neighborhood. The uniformity, and conformity of it all is nauseating. Say what you want, but there is poetic beauty in the strife and chaos of the ghetto. Even though I grew up in a nice…

“Hey. Pervert.”

…neighborhood, I know what…

“Over here!”

I spin on axis a full 360. Down the block, a couple of Mexicans manicuring shrubs. Sprinklers ticking away across the street doing a better job at drenching the driveway, than the lawn..

What the fuck?

“Over Heeeeere!”

I follow the voice up into the tree. An impossibly cute blue birdie is wabbling over to me on its branch.

Tyler “err….hello?”

Birdie “You look tired black man. Why don’t you just get in your car, and go to bed?”

Tyler “I…have a scene inside this house and…” Tyler, you’re talking to a fucking bird. Get a grip! “Look Birdie, I gotta split.”

Birdie “Wait! I can help you wake up! Let me sing a rousing song for you!”

I strain to remember the last time I heard a bird singing for me. My fucking parrot, Carlito only strings together obscenities like “cunt-breath” he has learned by watching Deadwood DVD’s.

I can’t remember.

Tyler “OK, sing motherfucker.”

Excited, Birdie puffs out his little chest, and opens his beak…and starts crooning;

“Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you’ve been asking me…”

Tyler “Fucking Judas!”

Satan “Lol! Close.”

Billy Joel is Lucifer?

I enter the house without knocking. I see Christian, some minion whose name I made no pretense of trying to remember, and the camera man Shel Black. They stop what they are doing to talk to me, but the words do not quite penetrate the fog. Voices are old 78 record played at 45rpm. I smile and nod at what seems to be the appropriate moments. It’s good to see Shel. We shot some truly great scenes together, cranking out two of them back to…

…I am sinking into a sofa after just finishing my first scene of the day with a taut black girl. Her energy after we went at it for 12 rounds betrays her impossible youth. Perky Girl leaves the sofa. I watch her walk away toward the edge of visibility.

Fading.

Fading, as simultaneously the next little thing full of zeal materializes in my lap. Lips wrap around the words “I’m next”, ending with a smile.

I am erect.

“…your IDs, and here is the paperwork” are the words floating around my head that I snatch out of the air. Who the fuck knows how long Minion Boy has been standing there, or when that phrase left his banal tattooed mouth.

I want to punch this spiky haired bastard.

Shel is snapping stills of a lean, green-eyed blonde girl with an absolutely great ass, and a stunning face. It’s Zero Tolerance’s contract girl Courtney Cummz.. We have never met. What happens between us is not chemistry. It is biology. The theme of the scene is; she is an actress that needs coaching, and I am an acting coach….I try to defend against her advances, but I capitulate. I half ass the script, words dripping of my tongue like molasses. Everyone mistakes my narcolepsy for understated brilliance, because two takes later, this model of human perfection is bursting out of her Goddamn blouse.

Insertion. My mind snaps alert. She is in great shape, for once, I am the one that has to take a break after the second position. I am sweating rivers, as I have just picked her up and fucked her standing for a solid 2 minutes at torrid pace.

Time to get my perv on.

We resume with me making her sit her meaty, tanned ass on my face, smothering me with her cheeks, as I stroke away, The whole scene is a 100 mile an hour shit talking, ass slapping, fingers in asshole titty fucking, slam-fuck. We brake eye contact maybe twice. I broke protocol, and kiss her often. She is almost there, and I do my best to put her over the edge to get her off. Ladies first….I go down on her. She comes violently.

Pop shot.

Spent.

I’ve got to work with this girl again!

Pussy drunk, I collapse on the expensive leather sofa…my legs jelly. Endorphins are flushed away with serotonin, I start to come down. In the tree, The Devil is ass fucking a squirrel.

11:00am

Driving away,the fog envelops my car, as the sludge I brewed earlier is wearing off.

…eyes…shutting…

Mommy, and Daddy standing in front of a yellow bicycle.

Giggles..

Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyrie” drowning out the howl of the V8, keeps my eyes on the bumper in front of me at 70mph. I watch as a hand that looks like mine slap the short throw shifter with a “click”.

11:15 am
Home

Clothes coming off as I walk in the door. I scald myself with fire water in the shower, scrubbing my entire body raw. Not bothering to dry myself, I collapse on the bed, and sleep.

I dream of high school.

I am in the boys bathroom, and a cute little blonde girl is lifting her skirt, showing her little pussy to myself, and 3 other high school boys.We stand in silence as she starts to pee on the tile…golden stream splashing up off the dingy floor, …spray-lets of amber piss hitting my lips.

Moans.

I wake up with extreme urgency, run to the bathroom. Dream like smoke fading from my consciousness, as I proceed to laser-pee a hole into the back of my toilet. I am rock hard, so this takes some gymnastics.

5:50pm

Time to go to LegendsMMA, or back to sleep? Another mug of mud for my caffeine fix.

Where’s my mouth piece?

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