Monthly Archives: October 2016

Jaylan Salah interviews stuntman Brady Romberg

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Brady Romberg to FilFan.com: Fractured bones don’t make up painful memories

Brady Romberg is your average stuntman. On a busy year, he gets 50-60 jobs. In some films, he does work that the actor didn’t get the slightest chance of doing. In the NBC hit TV series “Grimm 2011”, he got to be the monster while the actor didn’t wear the monster props at all. Brady suffers a few fractures now and then. Some break his back but most certainly not his backbone.

Brady handled the stunt performance business like the physics engineer he was. He studied the stunt market and when he realized he could make more money doing stunts than engineering he planned out how he wanted to approach it. He made up his mind in the very beginning that despite looking the way he did –pretty handsome, A-list star material- he wasn’t keen on becoming an actor when he could be a stuntman and make more money than most career actors and have a more exciting job at the same time.

“As long as you’re not a celebrity, being a stuntman pays better than most acting gigs,” the 32-year-old Colorado-native says, “and you can easily make a good name in the stunt business in shorter time. As an actor, you’d have to work 10 years until you start getting the jobs you wanted. In the beginning you would be getting almost no jobs, where you just show up on set and prep yourself until the star comes and then you’re out.”

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Poetry from John Grochalski

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what was so important at the petco

that you had to almost mow me down

 

was it a last minute run on biscuits?

a new chew toy for fido

or some cheese flavored treats for the cat?

 

i’m curious, lady

 

what was so important at the petco

that you had to almost mow me down

 

right through that intersection

like you didn’t even care

 

i could see if you were on your cell phone

a dick move and highly illegal in these parts

 

at least that would make sense

 

but you were staring straight ahead

eyeball to eyeball with me

as if we were up on some telepathic shit

 

did you even see me jump?

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Poetry from Sheikha A.

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The bridge shows no remorse

for willfully snatching out the stars
from the sorrow-worn face of the sky;

it eats no rainbows and won’t be intimidated

by pointy dentures of a defensive
but lion-willed night’s burning

having seen too many endless visitations
by blindness,

it does not fear bursting its concrete,
for its careless-picked

stones can only so much as fall into
the river begging by a pier

and be engulfed by a throat
knowing well the processes of deglutition:

the melting of saliva-acids

the journey towards warm blood.

High School

(after Madonna)

bad girls wore plastic pants
the colour of garbage bags

and nails done in neon orange
hair spiked in curls smelling
like a can of spray;

in lipsticks daring black or green,
we clad in oxidized silver
straight from Cleopatra’s grave,

never called us virgins in uniforms
that dared to bare our knees;

bad girls wore block heels
with ankle straps

and invented break-dances
at parties of boys, the party
with boys,

the younger we got
the bolder we became

the older we grew
the quicker we tamed;

when tear-ruined mascaras
were no more a fashion trend,

when brown leather jackets
were no good girl games.

Beauty’s Survival Techniques

Pinned like an over-waited breath
on a shedding leaf on the verge
of falling off its faintly-hinged,
the snow rested on the protruding
bones of shoulders that bore lines
of the water husks she carried to
fields. Her life was simple as it was
a laboured joyous until the beast
happened. All of a sudden, there
were flowers, sunshine and buffets
that would grow flesh between her
skin and bones. Fountains of sweet
milk sprayed over luscious grass
her un-shoed feet thought was
like walking on air. Her heart swelled
with dreams that changed the lyrics
of her songs, and how the want
of a measly rose proved a successful
shot of a mindless arrow in the air.
Now, it was a matter of learning –
cutting away olfactory glands
for initiating closeness; puncturing
the irises for when of moments of
gazing; pasting the smile from
ever becoming a grimace; clevering
the mind for his increased diversion
elsewhere; and learning a spell to
keep him madly devoted to the ends
of time.

 

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