Dalton…

What can I say about this mountain of a man? He’s simply the best. I was lucky enough to stumble, drunkenly, into Dalton’s life when Chad and I were setting out to make a childish attempt at independent film. Dalton was someone Chad had met through his various plays and came with recommendation to be our DP. I was skeptical, but I’ve never been more wrong. Dalton’s knowledge of cameras, lights and framing was incredible. He knew what I wanted without me having to even say anything. Our discussions of shots and setups required less words than the Fuck scene with Bunk and Mcnulty.

I’m surprised Dalton and I became such a good team, given the awful first impression I must have given. Our first meeting via Google Plus was delayed because I woke up 40 minutes from home at two in the afternoon at Ramona’s. Then when I showed up with Jason and Joe we went out on the town. I had already drank half a liter of bottom barrel whiskey and was feeding Dalton my life story. At some point I blacked out. At another I went missing, something Jon always hated about me. Dalton and Joe spent over an hour searching for me before they found me throwing up in the parking lot behind a diner known as The Reef. With a name like that, I doubt I was the first. For an undeterminable amount of time I was left roaming the homeless streets of Olympia with only strangers left to remember what I had done.

One of the things I loved about Dalton was how he hated David Lynch almost as much as me. We were, of course, in the minority on this viewpoint, but we didn’t care. Fuck that guy and his “You explain it” way of filmmaking. We found ourselves at a house party for the beginning school year, only a week away from our first day of filming. Dalton was downstairs and I was roaming, taking sips from Chad’s flask. I ran into this girl I wanted to have sex with who loved James Joyce. Her hair was blue and green, just like hers. She was with her open relationship boyfriend and their mutual friend. Word spread quickly in this gossip-ridden place that I was some outsider who rode into town intending to direct a film that frowns upon Olympia. These two hotshot kids started spewing Lynch’s come from their mouths and I was attacked on all fronts with my minority opinion. I forced an exit from the “conversation” and found Dalton. “Where were you! I just got mauled by a Lynch Mob!” He wanted to know where they were, but it was a big house and they had likely left. Upon this realization Dalton turned to me and gave me some advice for future interactions with babies who wanna fuck. “You come up with the one-liners, I’ll make their face hurt.” It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Throughout the course of our filmmaking adventure I tried to get Dalton to use various shortcuts in life as well as on the computer. He was dismissive, and when I claimed that it saved him time, he would reply sarcastically, “You’re saving whole seconds!” This was a point where our philosophies differed. I find saving seconds to be important. He did not. Regardless, every time I use any kind of shortcut, Dalton’s voice enters my mind. “Whole seconds!” So one night whilst strolling home underneath the transit tracks of a beloved city of mine, I’ll think to myself Haha, this route is saving me whole minutes! and a catastrophic disaster causes the oncoming train above to derail, in which it flies off the ledge and crushes me under the weight of the second or third car, I’ll die thinking of my film friend Dalton, who was right all along about those shortcuts.

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