“You Don’t Have My Permission.”

I was down at the PT bus terminal this afternoon shooting footage for my short film, “Maj. Nobody.” A woman drove up, took my picture, and said, “Hey, what are you doing?” “I’m making a movie,” I replied. “You don’t have my permission,” she said. “Huh?” “You don’t have my permission to put me in your movie,” she explained. “Oh,” I told her, “I was taking pictures of the garbage can. You’re not in the movie.” “Oh, okay,” she said, then drove off.

Rude, right? Reminds me of that night when I was minding my own business sleeping in my car in the empty parking lot of a church in Ballard when a woman came knocking on the glass and said, “You can’t sleep here.” Of course, I turned that incident into a book, so many I can use the line “You Don’t Have My Permission” somewhere in my film, maybe even change the name of the flick to that. Stay tuned.

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