Journal entry, AT&T commercial shoot, Chileno Valley 5/3/00

5/3/2000 We are at the L. Ray Jacobson Ranch on Chileno Valley Road for an AT&T shoot. What are the chances, it’s a place I’ve been to before, a raucous party with Jayne McPhearson. I didn’t know anyone there, and I had a right miserable time while Jayne gadded about. I’m waiting by the roadside, standing in the dirt, pondering the fact that I may have inadvertently crossed a picket line. And we all wait in the dust while the cows watch on. Two herds. Make that three, there are sheep. A motley crowd, many of us were hired before AFTRA/SAG decided to picket the event. We’ve all been bussed here from San Francisco, and we have nowhere else to go. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Ironic, as I am closer to home here than anywhere else, via backroads. Tomorrow I will drive here from Forestville. I stand in line, waiting for instructions. Ranchers from Tomales arrive. Bill Crane owns a café in Tomales, we have people in common. Andy is a carpenter in West Marin. These are people I know. Intersecting lives. We make vast formations in the field, near the site of my car accident, on the other side of the ridge. Action, roll. We march in geometric formation up the rise, and trample on the nests of ground-dwelling birds. Killing their young. The meadow birds fly in front of us, keening for their young. The roar from the fake fog machines is deafening. The air is laden with diesel fuel. I feel I am living between worlds. We’re all extras here.

Journal entry, casting call AT&T commercial

5/2/2000  Something must finally be working as I got a call back from Bo Bonneau casting studio for an AT&T commercial which landed me my first job as an extra, along with about 1000 other lemmings. Without Neil’s help, I might add. We will relentlessly march through the hills of an undisclosed location, a ranch in Marin County, we will be bussed in in droves, and we will march, seeking stellar telephone experience—with a herd of sheep. Real sheep. Not cattle. I kid you not. What does that say about us? The hours are long, and the pay is terrible, but it’s better than no income at all. I get a little buzz when I see the meager checks from Burbank Studio, etc. Don’t quit your day job has never been more true.

Journal entry, Bo Bonneau casting studio

10 Jan, 2000 I’m waiting at the Bo Bonneau casting studio in San Francisco trying to look like an affluent golfer for an Ace Hardware commercial posing as Neil’s wife, but after a blowout, it loses us any chance of the commercial. The strain on our faces is palpable, not exactly a harmonic convergence. It’s a real cattle call. I fill out the database, return the clipboard, never expecting to find work.  Golf clubs and tassel shoes everywhere. The overt preppiness of the crowd is a real mulligan stew. I’m blinded by the white.

2 May, 2000 Something must finally be working as I got a call back from Bo Bonneau casting studio for an AT&T commercial which landed me my first job as an extra, along with about 1000 other lemmings. Without Neil’s help, I might add. We will march through the hills of West Marin in droves seeking stellar telephone experience with a herd of sheep. Real sheep. Not cattle. I kid you not. The hours are long, and the pay is terrible, but better than no income at all. I get a little thrill when I see the checks from Burbank Studio, etc. Don’t quit your day job has never been more true.