It’s hard to do enough push ups to make holding a 20 lbs weight in 2 feet in front of you for an hour to make a difference and not end up with your arms shaking from the exertion. And then buzzing for an hour afterward because you’ve never actually used your muscles before it turns out.
Such things are an important reminder that no matter how prepared you thought you were it’s never really enough. You can’t be too prepared.

In the process of doing that, and really trying to get the shot, I had to fall to my knees, and lean backwards while an actor a third larger than me fell on top of me, all the while protecting the camera.

That’s when I got a wounded knee. Which sounds really dramatic. Wounded knee…like the battle only worse.

I’d have preferred getting a simple gash or a burn because I need to stand for work, but in the context of injuries I think it’s a good one to have because when people ask, “Why do you have a limp?” I can say proudly, “I was shooting a movie and got it trying to get a difficult comedic shot!” I’d point my finger in that person’s face and say, “I suffer for my art, motherfucker!”

Naturally, I’d add motherfucker because I’d be feeling self-righteous for suffering for my art as well as for the fact that it’s plain old fun to say.

Come on…say it with me…mo-ther-fu-cker…motherfucker.

Doesn’t that feel good? Kind of like a mantra to get past all the bullshit that consciousness throws at you.

Get real low in tone and say it like a choir.

Go up high in tone and say it like you’re a little bird.

Say it like a Britishman if you can manage such a feat!
Ain’t it great?

So yeah, I fucked up my knee, I wounded it, and, motherfucker, shooting a movie was one cool motherfucking way to do it.

Now I guess I’m going to go home and go to sleep because of a 12 hour day of physical and mental exertion and that’s such a motherfucking wonderful thing I’m damn near ready to burst.