The Monica Factor

Da Boss’ new short film, Woman with No Weaknesses, wrapped shooting a couple of weeks ago. He says he’s been reading and “taking a break” before giving it to me to edit. You know, “as a gift” for all of my hard work on the multi-year project that is SATUR-19. “You can look at it if you want, but you don’t have to start editing it until December 9th. In other words, one day after the premiere of SATUR-19. Sa-weet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think before I start working on that, I’d rather go out and see Edward Berger’s Conclave. You know, some bitchy priests and nuns might just be what I need, right in time for the weather to turn and freeze my feathers in their seat. I’m still anti-streaming, and still resent the fact that you can’t smoke in theaters anymore, but you can try, because after all, what’s going to happen? Some college student is going to point their finger at you and tell you to leave? Come on.

But I haven’t been able to get out yet. I think I might be turning Catholic in my sleep. I need to see that movie Conclave so bad… why? I didn’t feel this way yesterday. Maybe I’m born again. Or maybe this what it’s like to convert to Judaism. Am I having a stroke? Maybe it’s hysterical blindness. I think after editing this movie I’m going to get really into paper. All different kinds of paper: sizes, colors, mouthfeel. I’m ready to give in and become a complete obsessive recluse and lose all blood flow to my lower claws. I need a mannequin to practice my “self-defense” spur-claws on and a river to wash my blood stained boots in. More than anything else, I need a man, my man—Rooster Quibbits—to bring me back home.

But that’s not happening any time soon. I’m booked solid until at least the end of the year. Da Boss may see Conclave with me, he may not, but I know what I’m going to be doing for all of the hours we’re not seeing Conclave: editing this movie. Finishing this movie. Moving on… from this movie.

I think I’ll read more books. Da Boss said he would loan me some of his film books and movie star memoirs. He showed me some, all in a big pile on the floor in his room. I asked him if he was putting me on. He was genuinely offended. “Monica, these are brand new. I went and got them at Barnes & Noble.” Oh, okay, so I’m supposed to care about the life of Barry Sonnenfeld just because you bought his memoir at Barnes & Noble? Why didn’t you buy them at Normal’s? Fucking idiot… the best thing about getting older is knowing when not to get mad because you know how stupid your enemies are. It’s hard to get upset when the person attacking you is barely able to breathe on their own.

I wouldn’t call this offering an offense on that level, but I was annoyed. I told him I’d settle for a hardcover edition of Moby-Dick—it’s been too long. He said he’d think about it. I told him to look on eBay, and that nothing more recent than a third edition would do. He said he’d try his best… Da Boss loves to say he’ll try his best… even though he thinks people saying “I tried my best” is a cop out and a cliché… ah… you see… I have him right where I want him… right under my claws… grehehehehehehehehehehehehe…

—Follow Monica Quibbits on Twitter: @MonicaQuibbits