Omnia mutantur, nihil interit - Part One


In my blue 81 Civic I could do anything. It sipped gas, the top speed was 80 MPH and had the tightest turning ratio I had in any car a major plus for any driver in heavy traffic. A five speed with a rusted dent on the back, I still miss that car.

My hand moves to my thigh and I grab the clipboard with the mess of papers, I glance at the neatly made hand drawn map and take in destination one - the Capital Records building. My first stop - I know where that’s located.

A quick U-turn and I am on Vine. Even though I have a temporary parking pass the street is empty enough. I pop into a nearby parking space, some spare change later I make my way to the building. Parking is plentiful in this part of town at this time of day.

I enter the building; a security guard eyes me with deep suspicion. The receptionist is nice enough. I drop the clipboard on the desk and try to block the negative vibes the rent-a-gargoyle is tossing my way. I produce the proper papers and with one phone call I am given the green light. The guard softens and produces a key (?!) one click and the elevator is calling for me - as I rush I am told to go to floor 14.

The elevator button layout is at first glance confusing. I think I pressed on the right one but as I walk out I stand confused. The floor receptionist is puzzled at my inquiry and she turns around asking about the person I am to meet. A large vibrant woman with an east coast accent speaks above a normal office din - the button for the 14th floor is next to the 7th on the left. Mildly chagrined, I head back to the elevator but I take a good look at the office itself.

Paper everywhere. Gold records line the upper part of the walls. The desks seems to be crammed with an unholy mess of envelopes, small boxes and papers piled high. The impression is a gold lined banality with a bitchin’ view- it was a busy office, that much was clear.

Floor 14 is a different vibe. Manila envelopes are around but the room seems too still. I sit at a chair and a middle aged man looks at my paper with the air of a crackerjack reference librarian. A pair of keys are produced, a desk is opened and an envelope is checked and then resealed. A pause then one more signature and i am sent on my way. I can easily tell this man was far more significant then a clerk. I am entrusted with the hopes and prayers that are in this envelope.

Down to the main lobby and I jump into my Civic and onto stop two.

Omnia mutantur, nihil interit - Part Two


The second stop is close. It’s just down the street of the Ivar library. I love libraries. A block warehouse down the block I back into the driveway. A new paper is produced and the back of my hatchback is opened up and equipment is placed - ten cans of paint and an apologetic workman explaining that he was out of a type of paint and he had called around his local rivals for a can but it was no go.

Light gels and some plastic screens are added. Looks good.

Technicolor calls - I jump into my Cvvc powered car and jolt. A large warehouse that is covered in Ivy - it seems the Ivy was meant to hide the very fact of its existence. I produce a slip of paper and 12 8mm film rolls are entrusted to my care.

Omnia mutantur, nihil interit - Part Three

The Honda unloads the cargo - a group of workmen take out the items and I go over the manifest with the Director and crew.