Sunday, 17 July 2011

Just the fags, ma'am

I’m not particularly proud to say that I’ve recently re-succumbed to an old nicotine habit.

I guess this isn’t really the best forum for a mea culpa, but I’ve been racking my brain as to why this has suddenly become such a massively critical crutch during the last few weeks. And the only answer that makes any ounce of sense is vaguely related to the movie-making process. So you’re going to have to indulge me.

So, sure – smoking is going to kill me, it saps me of energy, makes me a liability if we need to spend long periods indoors, and is an extraordinarily bad example to set my 16-year-old son. But recently I have somehow developed a bad case of multiple-onset short-term recluse-aholism; the clinical need to be able to crawl away somewhere and take five minutes out.

As we get closer to the shoot, pre-production has become an endless stream of small problems to solve, and cigarettes are an excellent punctuation mark to separate one problem from the next. And the good thing about nicotine is that it’ll go out its way to remind you when the next punctuation mark is due. These little moments of carcinogenic zen are going to get even more important once we start making the movie at the end of July; micro brain-spas between set-ups to reset the psyche.

And what happens when the excuses run out after the shoot? Well, my girlfriend is about to embark on a course in clinical hypnotherapy, and is looking for susceptible minds within which to make all her mistakes before she gets let loose on the fee-paying public. But then again I think she’s only planning to use her power for evil.

Meh - I’ve had so much practice giving up smoking over the years that I’ve got that bit down pat anyway. Wheezy.

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