top of page

Day 1 - Sometimes I Dream in Farsi

Today was the first day of shooting, and I already cried like a baby.

My therapist warned me that I'd have issues. She wanted to do this Gestalt Therapy during our sessions, but I told her I'd save it for the camera.

When I told Aaron that, he bagged up laughing.

I guess everything for art. Like Nemanja says: "I would die for art."

In the morning, we did an interview with Panauh. Aaron was surprised with how open he was and even critical of me.

"That's healthy," Aaron said.

"I guess," I said.

Then we went to the college and had Aaron chat with the Topics in Cinema course. I wonder if they know how amazing Aaron is.

After that, we headed home to shoot me opening a Transformer toy I got in the mail. I explained that right around the time the Iran hostage thing happened and that barber refused to cut my hair, I also got a Transformer stolen from me.

Anyway, it showed up in the mail, and I figured we might as well get me opening the box.

Then I played with the transformer, and my dad came out of nowhere and patted my head and said: "We have to find this little guy in you."

"Oh, yeah," I said, humoring him.

"Yes," he said. Then he pointed to my shoulder. "Is it here?"

"No," I said.

"Is it here?" he said and pointed at my stomach.

"No," I said.

"It's here," he said and pointed to his head.

Then he talked about the stories in our heads.

I knew where the kid was in me. It was in this film and in my heart, but it was nice to hear my dad talk, so we let him keep going right into us watching Gandhi.

As soon as we did, I started crying. Just talking about the barbershop scene makes me start tearing up ugly.

But we got through it.

Tomorrow is the tattoo and then the first barber shop scene.

I hope I survive.

Recent Posts      
Search By Tags      
No tags yet.
bottom of page