By St. Louis-Marie Grignon De Montfort (Author), Frederick William Faber (Translator)
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Extra info for A Treatise On The True Devotion To The Blessed Virgin
Not badly, just some bumps, bruises, and cuts. The worst was when we were shooting this scene at a makeshift swamp he’d created in his backyard. I was attacking my girlfriend, who was played by Helen Leary (remember her? That cheerleader girl? My God, she was hot), and she was fighting back with a scimitar that Tobe fashioned out of two yardsticks, aluminum foil, and Elmer’s glue. She gouged me in my neck, and some of Tobe’s shit-slime rubbed up on it, and it stung like crazy. I went into Tobe’s house, washed it on up, splashed some whiskey on it, and went back to work.
It was first thing in the morning, like eight o’clock, and I’d been at the studio editing that remake of Carrie for Fox until well after midnight, and I didn’t hit the sack until after four, and I was in deep REM sleep, and having some fucked-up dream about bowling, and then there’s the ring, ring, ring, and I’m awake. Sort of. Nobody ever called me on my landline, so I’d never bothered to get my answering machine fixed, so that fucking phone just kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. My first instinct was to kill it, to shoot it dead, to send it back from whence it came.
I reached for it, then he yanked it away. ” And then he handed it over. The canister—which certainly looked to be the original one—was clean and dust free, but it still smelled musty, kind of like wet newspapers. ” I don’t remember doing that, obviously, but it sure sounded like something that the teenage version of yours truly would come up with: pretentious and snotty. I opened it up, and there it was, the only existing print of my teenage dabbling into the great world of moviemaking. I took out the reel and unspooled a few frames, but it was too dark to really see anything.
A Treatise On The True Devotion To The Blessed Virgin by St. Louis-Marie Grignon De Montfort (Author), Frederick William Faber (Translator)