Hangman's Midnight

Rain cut through night, beating against the ground, running waterfalls down spouts and forming lakes on the concrete ground. The building was a monolith, a gutted carcass with rusty hints of what it used to be: large holes in the ceiling, a track set on the floor, round metal ducts, large square pits set deep in the ground, chains hanging from the ceiling, outside stacks of lumber lined against the walls, 4-foot tires collected in neat piles. Where there should have been a wall, was a view of the river, which was having a rough night, and a set of stairs missing a floor of steps. The windows were busted out, and the lights that shown through presented a variety of shapes left to intrepretation for an imaginative eye. It was getting close to midnight. I was somewhere in the shit of Brooklyn. I sat in a dark corner eating rice and steamed vegetables, while to the left of me a man pleaded for a second chance before a gang of mobsters hung him. And I suddenly thought to myself: what an odd job I have.
It was a good day, very busy, which I far prefer to sitting in holding for hours doing nothing. I had stuffed crab for a snack and rib o'lamb for dinner. The only downside was that it was a long late day and I was only alotted 4 hours for sleep, since today was an early day.
There was a foreign chap there that I've worked with several times and we talked about our filmmaking for a while. Not as two people trying to one-up the other but as two people who had a passionate disposition of filmmaking. (The former is what usually its about, and why I rarely tell anyone that I'm a filmmaker.) Of course another guy joined in on our conversation (the type that only wait for when they talk about themselves.) Needless to say he didn't last long in our conversation.

Currently I'm on set on the sidewalk in Harlem on a lidded garbage can. I'm standing in on a movie, but in only two scenes that are quite spread out. So today will be a lot of thumb twiddling me thinks.

Oh! I finished Frankenstein finally!!! I've decided I hate this book. All Frankenstein and his monster do is fucking whine and moan and argue who's life is worse. Its drab and fucking boring. All the action is omitted, instead you sit there for 5 pages reading about landscape. Landscape I say! Aw fuck!!!!! I don't know whom I detest more, Frankenstein or his bitch montser. You know what, Shelley will do just fucking fine. You suck Shelley. I'm so glad to be done with that shit.