Space and I met at Surfer Ken’s Lounge for a couple of gin and tonics; Ken makes the best in town. Not necessarily because he cares about the way they’re made, of greater importance is about how little he cares about making money. The glass is tall, the gin is plentiful and the limes are cut just right for chewing. OK, maybe he does care, but just a little.
The place is typically empty on weekdays anytime before 10:30 PM, but this time we found the whole front of the lounge occupied by a small cast and crew of six filming a Russian soap opera. We didn’t need a translator to figure out this was a low budget shoot. Two lights aimed in no particular direction, no microphones and the whole thing was being shot with a digital SLR. Like some student plays I had watched, the actors only had one body motion to express themselves: shrugged shoulders. As if the response to every piece of dialogue was the universal sign for “How the fuck should I know?”
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