4:11 PM - 08.27.19
The other day I fell into watching Flashdance.
I didn't watch all of it, because (As I said on Facebook), "It's really not very good".
Then last night I watched 15 or 20 minutes of Showgirls.
And now I realize.Flashdance is a fucking classic.
Since Jane R. has evidence Griggs Hoffmaster was almost certainly not my father, me and my (for now) half-brother Gregg are doing/have done DNA tests to get the final word on the matter.
Honestly? What Jane found in her research would be evidence enough for me...if I just didn't want it to not be true.
So now I'm going to be let down twice; first when Jane found out what she found out (Griggs went into the slam ten-and-a-half months before I was born, and he was 5'8" when my mother described my biological father as 6'00") and now when we get the DNA results (results that - let's be real - are very unlikely to go our way).
On one front, it's obvious why I don't want it to be true that Hoffmaster isn't my father - I like having Gregg as a "brother" (And with his eagerness to do the DNA testing - testing we hope will somehow prove Jane's research wrong - it's obvious he likes being my "brother" as well).
But on another front, it's much more mysterious to me.
Griggs Hoffmaster, from what little I know, was a piece-of-shit - A drunk, wife-beating criminal - so, if anything, I should be glad to not be his son.
But I'm not.
And I don't know why.
I guess, in my head, "better to be the son of a drunken wife-beating ex-con than nothing at all".
The first time my mother told me that "Hoffmaster" wasn't actually my father, before going back on it when I met her, I was so thrown by the news I considered changing my last name to "DeHaven" (My foster mother's last name).
But I decided "James DeHaven" sounded too much like a soap-opera actor's name, so I thought better of it (And was just now road-testing "Jim Roberts" - "Roberts" was my mother's maiden name - and that's striking me as too "generic").
So it looks like I'm sticking with the 58-years-and-counting, place-holder last name "Hoffmaster", until-and- unless I can think of something better (Or until the DNA test proves I somehow actually am the "drunken wife-beating ex-con's" son).
Went to my second "popping" class tonight (For the uninitiated, "popping" is a genre of street dancing that, back in my day, used to be called "pop-locking". If you've ever seen someone do "The Robot", that's an example of "popping"...though if you're at a wedding or something and dancing breaks out, don't do "The Robot").
It's a place across the street from the Y - Urban Dance LA - that just opened up maybe a month or two ago
Anyway, it's fun (It's close enough to how I already dance that I'm not totally at sea but challenging enough that I'm not bored. And I like the instructor).
Jane R. is back in town tomorrow, for what would seem to be the last LA shoot of the film (We still haven't heard the final word from Shameless on whether we'll get to shoot on-set or not, so that's a big old question-mark...though I don't have a great feeling about our chances, for whatever reason).
Jane always takes great pains to tell me what we're doing and when in advance, which I never bother to write down or remember.
But this time out, I know at least that we're doing a thing with Mike M. at Cassels on Thursday morning, we're doing a photo-shoot at some juncture (Jane was a photographer before she was a filmmaker, so she wants to do an exhibit of portraits of me to accompany screenings of the film), and we're going out to dinner with Cary and Kay Saturday night.
Beyond that things get a little fuzzy. But I know the two of us will be hanging out a lot, which will be lovely (It'll also be nice to see "the guys" again Seth and Tom, our cameraman and his assistant).
I'm spending a lot of time thinking about the end of shooting, as if to steel myself for the inevitable letdown - I've spent a good chunk of this year with someone paying more attention to me than anyone ever has, so I know it's going to be a little rough when I return to being alone and...totally unfocused-upon.
And I know I'll feel some anxiety, when shooting is over, as I sit on my hands waiting for Jane and David (her editor) to do their thing - While I imagine Jane will keep me abreast of developments, it'll be "their thing" at that point, not mine, and that's going to be one long-ass "waiting game".
I do want shooting to conclude, don't get me wrong - I'm eager for this thing-in-the-making to be a finished product (and to see what happens from there) - but it will also mark the end of what's been a unique experience.
And that will be...bittersweet.
Well, there's loads more I could say about that - and I probably will before it's all over - but for now shooting continues (And the West Virginia trip looms), and all that "popping" earlier has me pooped.
So, till next time...
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