I. Can't. Breathe.
Not just a brilliant hip hop stage name that no aspiring rapper has capitalized on, Secondhand Smoke is the official on set kryptonite of a Sound Guy Called Ryan. I seriously had trouble sleeping last night because of the residual effects of the cigarette smoke that I inhaled on set. Tonight will be no different. Of the 15 or so people on the cast and crew of the film I helped out on the past couple days, I counted no fewer than 11 smokers. Not lying.
Imagine 11 smokers doing their thing on a small interior set for 14 hours. My lungs hate me right now.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. I am a firm believer in the "to each his or her own" school of thought. Where some people smoke, I compulsively watch baseball and basketball, and spend a lot time sitting quietly and thinking, all potentially contemptible habits in their own right. I'm just saying, as an asthmatic, I never thought sound recording would be this hazardous to my health.
Perhaps I've been spoiled by the clean air of New York City bars and am too out of touch with the rich smoky texture of those in Michigan where the smell of cigarette smoke inevitably permeates one's clothes after a night out. Would I be making a deal if I had spent the last year and change in Michigan and not in cushy non-smoker friendly NYC? Probably not. I just have to point out the irony that my secondhand smoke exposure is coming at work.
I love my classmates and they'd have to do a lot more than blow cigarette smoke in my face to change that. My lungs however are demanding that I declare an immediate vendetta against their foes and take out said classmates before it's too late. To my lungs I say, never. As I always say when questioned about the mental and physical challenges that one endures while making a film: It's for the art. Sorry lungs.
Ryan the Sound Guy
p.s. does that picture creep anybody else out or is it just me?
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