bone blog #31 [Special New Orleans Edition]

BONE BLOG [Special New Orleans Edition]

When does a film begin? Where is that moment, I felt we crossed it when the Mobile Delta was below me as flight 176 out of Laguardia glided into New Orleans last week at the tail end of a seven hour American Airlines flight - ouch.
Bunker was a mess when I saw him [five hours late], I swear I only had two, the fish tale he was telling as I settled into the hotel, but of course I was thirsty too, and it was cocktail hour at the gay bar on the corner of bourbon and doumain. Bunker was on a first name basis not only with the bartender, but with some of the rougher local trade in the bar. The night proceeded to deteriorate into the fog of anti-temperance that we were feeling. I do remember walking up the middle of Esplanade Ave. smoking the one joint that I slid past airport security.
The bone tone trio, was completed the following morning as Ms. Julie Atlas Muz arrived on the red eye from Kennedy. Immediately, avoiding work, we hit the run down street known as Rampart all the way down to Basin St. where we entered St. Louis Cemetery # 1. After a one dollar bill voodoo trick by Ms. Muz we found the tomb of Marie Laveau, the patron saint of New Orleans Gris-Gris.
Our one o'clock was with Jennifer Day of the New Orleans Film Commission. She and her assistant Katie were chipper, enthusiastic and informative. "no matter what you do, you have to pay the police here". We left the film commission and walked into a torrential downpour of biblical proportions. Lunch was at Johnny's po' boy [St. Louis And Decatur], then back to the Hotel St. Pierre where we wrestled with the new script, LOVE, LOVE AND LOVE AGAIN. We were prepared, we were on location and we had ammunition only to have the third act of the script kick our ass. We quickly retreated licking our wounds, feeling we needed the strength of another day to attack it. At 7pm John Sinclair, the legendary Detroit revolutionary arrived with his daughter, Celia, for a meet and greet. We were all humbled in his presence, but were soon old friends as we had an incredible dinner at coops bar and grill. Mr. Sinclair was very forthcoming and generous. We blamed him for our radical politics and the pain it has cost us, and he just laughed us off as the amateurs we are. To digress, I get these conceptual ideas, and this meeting with John Sinclair, was the end product of a conceptual idea that had begun in the drawing room. Ever since the death of our spiritual Commissar Sal Scarpitta, I've felt there was something missing at Bone Film. We needed a new spiritual commisar, I offered the job to John Sinclair, who promptly said he didn't like the commissar part, but he loved the spiritual part. I may be stepping out on a limb here, but bone film has a new Spiritual Adviser, John Sinclair. Sorry John, it doesn't pay anything.
The evening progressed to deep into the fauburg marigny where we found a liquor store, coffee shop and sandwich place. Muz already under the influence needed proseco, and I bought a bottle and John sparked up some skunk. We sat under the portico on a chilly New Orleans evening. John and Celia [having driven six hours from Oxford, Mississippi]] pooped out early, leaving the bone tone trio to walk the magical middle of the streets [there's no cars here] back to the quarter for a nite cap around the corner from the hotel. Muz listed all she had drunk that night to the bar keep, and she suggested a vodka and cranberry, needless to say Ms. Muz, having difficulty with the key, opened up the room on her knees then fell in. Bunker politely encouraged me to "kick the bitch in". There are photos of this evening, but I'm praying that they have been erased.
The third day's the charm, work on the script began early and continued throughout the day and evening. Did we finish, no, did we destroy and start again, no. But we saw the beauty of the last scene, and Bunker inspired as always, was able to say with certitude that he saw it. Muz and I backed off, you see it? Bunker, I see it, I've got it. We went to the Saturn bar for celebratory cocktails and location scouting. It's an incredible bar on St. Claude Ave. near the lower 9th, where they had a jamming juke box, with actual volume, an extreme rarity in Mormon New York. Muz [what was in your head?] started playing Micheal Jackson, Bunker and I beat her up in the cab as we went to karaoke night at the gay bar. there was no karaoke night and so we ended up at jean Lafitte's tavern on bourbon st. Back at the hotel, I felt sick and passed out.
Muz left early in the a.m., after the various telephones were ringing to wake her. I felt like shit and the only thing Bunker and I could do was get food before we were out. So to end this blog the way I started, when does a film begin, I can answer with complete honesty, it already has.

LOVE, LOVE AND LOVE AGAIN

glimmer out
the Bone Blog