Crazy Video

So early Friday afternoon Lee walks into my flat and presents me with a bottle of Becherovka, four beers and a giant smile.

“Thank you?” I say. I have found that unwarranted gifts mean I am either about to get bad news or an undesirable job. We have a shot and I pour us a beer.  I sense trouble.

Trouble is confirmed when he pours us two more shots and says, “Now, get in the bedroom and get into your bathrobe.” He removes a video camera from his bag and smiles, “Bitch.”


I go into my bedroom and slip into my robe, all the while shouting staple excuses meant for escape and avoidance. I feel like a prisoner getting ready for a big date with his cellmate, Bubba.

As I cinch up the robe, I reflect that this wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t written that damn novel.

Lee has sworn that making video trailers for novels is a highly effective marketing technique and I have promised violent revenge if his theory proves wrong. During the shoot, I am effusive and consistent with these remarks. And as our alcohol intake continues throughout, my sworn punishments become more violent and detailed. Some of them involve loved ones and pets he might own in the future. I think at one point I threaten his computer.

The thing is, I hate being in photographs.

And if being in photos makes me uncomfortable; being in videos is like watching pornography with my parents.

In pictures I always seem to have my eyes closed; my chin invites three of his brothers over and they hang out at the bottom of my face like a chubby barbershop quartet. My cheeks are ruddy and plump and hide my eyes like fleshy hills. This effect is assisted by the fact that I always have my mouth open, as if I’m just in the middle of saying something – which is often the case, but I don’t need photographic evidence to prove that I never shut up.

Video adds the insult of motion to the injury of disliking my visual depiction on film. I move as though I don’t know what to do with my hands. And I don’t. I look decidedly simian, with furrowed brow and sloped cheeks; an awkward, stocky ape loping through a glen. I analyze every moment with disdain and regard every facial tic with embarrassment.

The trailer, he has decided, is to depict one peculiar scene from Senseless. And so, for about forty-five minutes I run around my flat in my robe, smelling and licking things.

I am sure you will see abject discomfort on my face and in my demeanor. You will see the B Monster – my cat. And hopefully, from all of this, I will see sales rise. So, if you’d like to save Lee’s life and finance my embarrassment, then please buy a copy of Senseless or recommend it to a friend.

In any case, enjoy my torture.

  1. #1 by Joker on September 12, 2011 - 2:56 pm

    Ha! I’ve always felt as if the door handle smelled of mushrooms, but was embarrassed to mention it. Thanks pal.

    • #2 by Damien Galeone on September 12, 2011 - 9:46 pm

      Anytime, my friend! My thesis on doorknobs and wall sockets was very well received in the Ivy League circuit.

  2. #3 by Chris on September 12, 2011 - 3:28 pm

    At first I didn’t understand why you had monkeys on the cover. Now I do…. Now I do. Can someone that loves me please tell me we don’t look alike.

  3. #4 by Emma on September 12, 2011 - 6:27 pm

    I haven’t laughed so much for ages. Cheers. I think it was the obvious level of comfort that you have in front of the camera that cheered me up. I feel exactly the same way whenever I have to do a photoshoot. The last time the photographer, after a couple of hours of taking pictures, asked me if I could please just look a little more “normal.” How do you look normal?

  4. #5 by Damien Galeone on September 12, 2011 - 7:43 pm

    Em, you just watched that video…Do you think I know how to look normal?

  5. #6 by Wevo on September 14, 2011 - 11:01 pm

    I would posit that you only look somewhat simian, but you’re the ultimate judge of whatever you see in the mirror. Carry on, Damien.

Comments are closed.