Rusted Sun Films (West): West Coast Update #2

As I've been put rapidly back into the troublesome daily grinds of television news, I have not exactly had a great deal of spare time to check things like e-mail or keep in touch the way that I've grown so used to. So, I'll do my best at keeping everyone up to date so far...
I'll go ahead and admit that I do dearly miss my friends in Memphis-town. I miss the Midtown nights, the ease of an eight minute drive into work, and having that comfort zone that comes with over compensating for boredom. I miss the laughs and the talk of movies and music. So for those of you wondering if your friends Bevan and Christine have moved out to San Francisco and forgotten all about you... Worry not. We've been under a bit of stress lately... You know, new jobs, new city, new problems, and newly engaged. But with all of those daily troubles of life anywhere around the world, I will say that there are a few things that help to melt all of the mind numbing adult ailments away.
This photo, my friends, is Sunday evening. There is nothing as absolutely calming as the crashing surf, the sky set ablaze with color, and a cool ocean breeze. We get to take the dog down to the beach (just a few blocks from the house) when time allows... And when weather allows, this is the view. Occasionally the turn of Fall in Memphis allows for colorful sunsets as well... But nothing stretches out so far as the seemingly infinite horizon of the ocean. It makes you feel human... And I'm okay with taking off the cape and being "human" for a while.
I stare at the sea and the ideas for dialogue, scenes, voice over and all of the like come pouring in. I desperately need to sit down to write again. When I get more than one day off in a row... I think I'll give it a shot. So, the new script should be coming along in the weeks to come. I think that it's time to write again. There's a world of inspiration in a single grain of sand... Now I understand why Jack Kerouac needed to go crazy in Big Sur.
This photo represents the last few days of our life in Pacifica, California. They don't call it Fog City for nothing. There is fog. There is serious Fog. It creeps up from the ocean carrying pirate ghosts, and siren's calls. It fills the night air with a hollow gray. The bleak sound of a nighttime rush is oddly still and somewhere in the distance stands a shadow. It's very film noir... Which is almost pushing me to write another little crime thriller... But that's another story.
The view from this photo is actually from the sidewalk directly in front of the house. Normally you would see the ocean. Now you see the nothingness that can swallow the entire coastline. However, it can completely envelope Pacifica yet leave the city of San Francisco sunny... Or partially covered. So, yes there are days where it's not ideally sunny and all California Dreamin'... on such a Winters day.

I'll give you another example of this strange anomaly known as "the fog." The gray cloud that seems to linger over the San Francisco sky line is not smog. That is actually fog creeping it's way over the hilltops to the other side of the bay. For those of you interested in visiting, I can give you a full rundown on my understanding of fog thusfar... But for now I will leave you in the wondrous mystery of mobile moisture. On with the show!

Next I'll give you a little rundown of my nightly routine after work. For those of you that have been paying attention, I take the BART into work everyday. It's basically a transit subway system that attempts to connect the majority of the Bay Area. I take the Colma station (the one closest to the house), park the car, jump on the BART and try not to touch anything that might be covered in sneeze juice. When I come home from work... The night has fallen... And the real adventure begins.

I walk the damp streets of downtown sometimes after midnight. All of the homeless are curled into covered little corners and huddled under blankets and make-shift clothing. They pose no actual threat... Aside from bumming change and the occasional cigarette (which I'm glad to say I no longer have for I have quit that nasty habit... Mostly because of all of the f-ing walking). But there are "cholos" that wait on corners on Friday nights... Perched and ready to attack.
So, one continues to walk from sidewalk to sidewalk at a speedy pace. It is not out of fear. It is out of a sheer rush to catch the damn BART train and not have to wait around in the concrete bowels of "The City" another 15 minutes for the next arrival.
It's actually not that bad. I like the city. I like the night. The streets are calm during the week and the Embarcadero Center is all lit up like Christmas. The bars are colorful, the traffic has died, and the cool night air makes for a pleasant rushed walk. I do, however, find it a bit discouraging that there is a Starbucks on almost every f-ing block. It's as if you can't wait one more block for another fix. But they make money... And pay the rent... And apparently everyone in this city is a caffeine/speed junkie. Or maybe they just like rapid bowel movements. I don't know, each to their own.


Speaking of bowels, this is the entrance to the BART system. It's not that exciting and I usually pick the entrance that has an escalator moving in the opposite direction, though not out of choice, perhaps just sheer stupidity. I also don't see the point of crossing an intersection just to get to an entrance that has an escalator moving in my direction. I'll just take the stairs... Everything will work out in the end. But as you can see, it's a lot of stairs. Up hill, up stairs, steep downhill slopes, it's a smokers nightmare... But people still do it. I don't know how or why. These stairs and walking the dog have helped me swear it off for really really intoxicating/intoxicated moments.

The Bart trains whiz by and come to a screeching halt. There are points of the ride that are loud enough to make your ears bleed... And everyone has an iPod. Everyone except for me. So I daydream of film scripts and just getting home to sleep... Or perhaps a two day weekend... Or at least going to the beach on some night to catch another sunset. But for now, I have to prepare for another night of work. I can't complain too much. At least I'm working. I could be curled up in a doorway wrapped in a U-Haul moving blanket and cardboard garbage from Starbucks. So it's Friday. Have a drink for me... I'll have a drink for you.

Maybe next time I'll have a film update. Until next week.
-Bevan