Senatorial shoot was a slammin' success, except for the lunching part. Evan, the imported (NYC) mailhouse guy that I drove about from location to location, and I had drive-thru from (gag) Wendy's. We both had the #6 with Diet Coke, should you need to gag along. Had to, at some point, coach my senator in the ways of the hand, how to wave it in front of his body like a salmon swimming upstream in a pleasing and non-threatening (continuing the metaphor, not like a salmon hung-over and threatened by a hungry, streamside grizzly) manner. Be Italian, I coached. To the softened gasps of all in the room. I'm half-Italian, I said, I can say that. At some point I bossed Like karate chops in the air.
Moments ago shot a Korean drum ensemble who marched and danced and ran while playing. Very kodo and affirming. And deafening. I was in front of them, as if they were marching into me (oh, they were) for the bestest shots e-ver.
Onwards to deadlines of redwood proportions.

Proportional Love.