My Boring-Ass Life (Revised Edition): The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith (19 page)

But when I wasn’t trading correspondence with the Flan-Man or at the VFS, I was fucking lonely, kids. Weekends (with no school to break up the day) were the worst. I used to go to the movies a lot, paying to see one flick then staying all day to sneak into whatever else was playing at the multiplex. One weekend, I stayed at Mos’s to watch the Oscars (when
Silence of the Lambs
won), and that was Heaven — just being around a family. But normally, I’d sit in my rented room in the house I stayed in with George and Ken (two dudes about ten years older than me) and watch laser discs or write, wondering if I wasn’t wasting my time with this film stuff. But I remember feeling like, in some weird way, I was paying my dues; like after this period of my life, I’d never be lonely again. I remember feeling everything would work out for the best if I could just buck up and deal with this eight-month film school stretch (of which I only made it halfway).

And all of it seemed like a lifetime ago as I drove Jen around, showing her where a Jen-less Kevin would dwell, wondering if he’d ever get to make a film. Thirteen years later, I was about to co-star in someone else’s flick, having already made six of my own. If only I could go back and visit that lonely motherfucker to let him know how well it all works out...

We get back to the city and stop at Chapters (which is like a Borders), where we pick up a shitload of new books for Harley and a few for ourselves. We stop at 7-11 to grab some snacks and look for baby oil (for the massage), but it’s a bust. We get back to the hotel, shuffle to our room, get into our woobs, and pop in
Poltergeist
(which holds up). I spend the rest of the night snacking out (back on the diet tomorrow) while reading all about
Poltergeist
(including the sad story of Dominique Dunne) on the ‘net.

Post-’
geist
, we pop some
X-Files
back in, and fall asleep.

Monday 9 May 2005 @ 10:56 p.m.

I get up, take a leak in the shower, check the board while I dry, write Jen a note in soap on the mirror in the bathroom (“Love you, Jenny”) then head out the door. Just then, the phone rings, pulling me back in, so as to get it before it wakes Jen. It’s Blake, the driver. He’s come to pick me up downstairs. I tell him I’m on my way down, and as I hang up, the Princess stirs. She hauls her cookies out of bed long enough to tell me she loves me, then jumps back under the covers.

Downstairs, I meet Blake and tell him I’d like to follow him to the studio in my Expedition, so I can learn the way. He obliges, and we’re off. Twenty minutes later, we’re at the studios. I park my car near the trailers and I’m led over to the wardrobe department, where Karen and Tish have me trying on a bunch of different outfits. Jenno pops by to give me a welcome hug, then moves on, presumably to more producerial duties.

I head to the vanities — the hair/makeup trailer. Forest puts the hairpiece on me and...

*shudder*

... cuts my mullet. Before she does so, I ask her to memorialize the dreaded ‘do with a photo. Next, I meet Margaret who’ll be doing my makeup for the show. Like every makeup person before her, she tells me I have good skin. And, as with every makeup person before her, I explain that it’s the only physical blessing the Lord gave me, as I was seriously shortchanged everywhere else. Margaret chuckles as she puts my face on for the camera test.

Lori, the 3rd A.D., takes me to my trailer. It’s hands-down the biggest trailer I’ve ever had — which normally I wouldn’t care about, since I’m usually always on set anyway. But since I’m not directing this picture, I know I’m gonna be spending a lot of time in my trailer, so I’m delighted with the roominess of it. I’ve got a bedroom to crash in, a living room with a big TV and DVD player for when I’m bored, and a kitchen and dinette, for when I wanna entertain. I check out the bathroom (which is wide enough) and note the shower (which I’ll never use, as trailer showers — like trailer sinks — are woefully low on the water pressure).

On my bed, my first costume is laid out for me. I throw it on and Lori leads me over to the stage, where they’re putting me on film to check out a few of my costumes and see what my glasses and hairpiece look like. Sam’s already done his test, as has Tim, so it’s my turn. I say hi to Susanah and meet Dave, our 1st AD. He in turn introduces me to John, the Cinematographer (who tells me he knows Bob Yeoman, my DP from
Dogma
).

For the test, I’m required only to stand on a mark and be filmed. Susanah calls out the angles she wants me to stand at (left, right, 360 degrees) while the camera pushes in to a closeup, or pulls out to a head-to-toe. We cut, and it’s suddenly lunchtime. I skip lunch and head back to my trailer.

In my trailer, I meet the doctor for my cast physical. There’s a form I’ve gotta fill out that leads with ‘Artist’s Name’. I insist I’m not an artist, cross out ‘Artist’s’ and write, instead, ‘Guy’s’. The doctor finds no humor in this and crosses out my ‘Guy’s’ and writes ‘Artist’s’ again. In spite of this, I pass.

I change into my second camera-test outfit and Lori tells me they’re ready for me. I run into Susanah and we chit-chat en route to the stage. After this test, I change into a third outfit in the stage bathroom. They shoot that one as well, and then I’m done. I head over to Jenno and Susanah and jokingly remind them that actors need lots of reassurance. They jokingly respond that I stood in front of the camera well, and satisfied, I head off.

I hit the vanities where Forest removes my hairpiece and Margaret does the same with my makeup, finishing it off with a quick skin moisturizing, pampering me just enough to almost commit my entire life to this woman.

I head back to my trailer and put on my Kev clothes. I’m done for the day, so I head to my car. On the way, I run into Tim. We bullshit for a little bit, and he gives me a tongue-in-cheek tutorial on the art of acting with props. Garner bombs by and we say hi. Tim heads off to rehearsal with Susanah and Jen, and I run into Jenno again. We chit-chat a bit more before I head for the hotel via a route that Lori gave me which turns out to be more direct than the route I came this morning. Ironically enough, it also brings me right through my old circa ‘92 hood.

I call Jen to tell her I’m stopping at the Safeway on the way home, and ask her if she wants anything. I’m in the market for fat free mayo and Jen’s looking for Diet Coke.

On the way up the flat escalator into the store, I hear a guy on the descending side say “Kevin?” I say hi, and he spins around, heading up the down people mover, meeting me at the top. He tells me he’s been reading and enjoying the online diary, and asks how rehearsals are going. We say g’bye, and I grab the groceries and head back to the hotel.

I get to the door of our room, but my hands are so full (my backpack, the bag of groceries and the twenty-four pack of Diet Coke), that I can’t get the key in my pocket. I kick at the door so Schwalbach’ll let me in. She opens the door slightly, revealing a dark, candle-lit room. As she lets me in, I see that she’s dressed only in my ‘Schwalbach/Jen’s Bitch’ shooter. She takes the groceries out of my hand and throws me on the bed and we fuck like crazy, letting the dirty talk fly.

Afterwards, as we lay around in afterglow, lavishing one another with compliments and affection, I insist she greet me at the end of every workday in such a fashion. She chuckles in that way that says “Don’t kid yourself about who wears the pants in this family, actor-boy...” We then throw our clothes on and head out to eat.

We jump in a cab and find ourselves engaged in that rarest of commodities in the married world: a date. We try this steakhouse on Seymour that Chay had told us about called Gotham. Since it’s not even five yet, we pretty much have the place to ourselves. Our waitress is attentive enough without being up in our grills all night, leaving the wife and me ample time to make goo-goo eyes at one another over our meals.

Post-Gotham, we cab back to the hotel and grab the car. We drive around for a bit, check out Stanley Park (for when Harley gets to town on Friday), then head over to the London Drugs on Robson. I buy a hot water brewer (for iced tea) and Baby Oil (for the massage Schwalbach says I owe her, post-nookie).

We get back to the hotel and lapse into some
X-Files
. I get an email from Gail, telling me I’ve gotta print up a watermarked copy of
Clerks 2
for Harvey to take to Cannes. I put together a watermarked PDF of the script and email it to Gail, walking her through the printing process via iChat. I finish checking email and remember that I’ve gotta start pulling together a draft of the
Rats
script for Chappy (for the book), so I spend an hour doing that while Jen emails with Chay. I shut down the computer and cuddle with Super-Vixen a bit before falling asleep to the
Files
.

Tuesday 10 May 2005 @ 9:40 p.m.

I go to the studio and Forest puts in my fake hair. Margaret’s not on today, so Angela does my makeup. We’re joined by Chris Henrickson, Susanah’s husband, who plays Garner’s character’s dead ex in photos seen throughout the flick. Chris offers me a belated thank you for hosting his website for the last five years, then off my bewildered expression, explains that it was a site Ming built back when he worked at Live Planet, called DreamYardLA. Turns out Chris is a former AFI kid who’s chucked the movie-making thing for the truly noble work of helping gang-banger kids find another way to express themselves without guns, violence or crime. After fifteen minutes of talking about the project, I feel like a sell-out piece of shit.

Outside the vanities trailer, Jenno introduces me to Juliette Lewis, who I take an immediate shine to. We bullshit for a few minutes before I have to head to my trailer to get into one of my costumes. Once I’m clad as Sam, I jump in my truck and follow Dave the driver (who’s driving Chris, Sam and Karen, our 2nd A.D.) over to Stanley Park. We’re gonna take some pictures of our characters hanging out in the great outdoors for use in scenes throughout the flick. Garner’s there as well, as she’s featured in some of the pics with Chris. I meet her dog.

Post pics, 2nd A.D. Karen, PA Shelly, Sam and I sit around bullshitting as we wait for Forest, who’s doing me the kindness of driving all the way out to the location to remove my hairpiece so I don’t have to drive all the way back to the studio. Forest joins us, does her magic with the glue solvent, and then I’m following Sam and Dave to North Vancouver for a fly-fishing lesson.

On the ride, I call home to talk to Gail. Byron tells me she’s gone to Hawaii. Sadly, her brother — affectionately known to Jen, Harley and I as Uncle Ted — drowned while snorkeling in Fiji. Gail’s flown to Hawaii to break the news to her mother, who was visiting Ted in Hawaii before Ted left for Fiji, and is still there, unaware of her son’s death. I try to call Jen to let her know, but she’s out on the road, looking at houses for us to rent for the Vancouver stay.

One of the first thoughts that goes through my head upon learning of Ted’s untimely death is that we will no longer be receiving mysterious clippings in the mail. A few years back, we started getting letters with clippings from
USA Today
. Sometimes, the clippings were whole articles — some about current events, some about me. Then, we’d get these random clippings of one or two sentences from a paragraph in an article not included. The clipping would say something like “Global warming has the southwest weather patterns trending toward humidity.” That was it. There would be no letter explaining why the clipping was being sent; just a few sentences from an article we’d never get to read in its entirety. There was never a return address, so for months, Jen and I were perplexed as to who was responsible for the odd mailings. Then, one Christmas a few years back, while Ted and Jen’s grandmother, Peg, were in town, Ted asked me: “Have you gotten my clippings?” to which I busted out with “THAT WAS YOU?!” He never did explain why the sampling of stuff he sent was so all over the place, or what rhyme or reason they had, other than being factoids he must have found interesting. But that was Ted. He’ll be missed.

Sam and I grab some eats at a bar and grill and chit-chat for awhile. Right before our food arrives, I spot a guy I recognize heading toward the bathroom:
Dogma
DP Bob Yeoman. He joins us for a few minutes, and we play a bit of catchup. He’s in town shooting a flick called
The Martian Child
with John Cusack, so we exchange numbers for a later hookup.

After our lunch, Sam and I meet up with props-guy Brian at a place called Ruddick’s — a fly-fishing shop. The lady who owns the joint is gonna be our instructor, and she takes us to a park a few blocks away from her store to practice. There’s something calming about the process of casting and re-casting: just dialing in and hitting ten and two, over and over again. It’s not for me, but I can see why some folks get into it. The world just melts away.

I drive Sam back to the hotel with me then head upstairs to my room. Jen’s there already, and based on the phone to her ear and the shocked expression she’s wearing, I realize she’s heard about Ted. When she gets off the phone, we set aside the grieving process to concentrate on damage control: in an effort not to disrupt our search for a permanent place up in Vancouver, Gail’s gone to Hawaii by herself to tell Peg and wrap up Ted’s life, while Byron’s stuck at our house with Harley. All three were supposed to be joining us in Vancouver on Friday, but this is not gonna happen now. Now, our primary concern is getting Byron out to Hawaii to help Gail with the Herculean task of getting Ted’s body back from Fiji (when an American dies abroad apparently an autopsy is mandatory), getting him cremated, cleaning out Ted’s apartment, etc. Jen immediately books herself on a morning flight back to LA, and books Byron on a flight out to Hawaii.

Meantime, Jen reveals that the apartment/house hunt has been fruitless. Nothing she’s seen will fill our needs. So instead of looking further, we opt to do the run of the show in a hotel in town. We’re currently at the Sutton Place Hotel, but if we’re gonna stay in a hotel for two months and change, it’d better have a kitchen. And since the residence side of the Sutton Place is out of the question (de-pressing), I ring Smalls back home to have him call around and look for alternative hotels: some kind of two-bedroom suite affair in the city. I also have him print me up a pair of Mapquests that’ll get me to and from the airport in the a.m.