you’re in my web now

I’m excited about going to this IndieMemphis, Soul of Southern Film Festival. It’s my first full festival I’ll have a film in AND get to attend– all at the same time! I’ll probably be too shy to get what I should out of it. There will be lots of schmoozing. I tend to not do that, so much. I don’t think at the same speed my mouth speaks. It can be excruciating. Maybe I’ll make real friends. Reconnecting with old ones (Yay, Steve!) I hope I get fire under my ass from this. I’ve been sad lately. For a couple of months now. That’s strange for me. Maybe it’s the weather.

I’ll try to update you on my every move. And you, in turn, will be gripped to scribbles more than usual. Checking your blog subscriptions incessantly to see if I’ve posted. I know how you guys are. I know. I find it endearing. I love you too.

Ha.

I don’t know why I’m up writing this. It’s almost 1am and I’m tired as shit. I’ve been so focused on working and getting shit together for this trip, I’ve been crazed. I didn’t get my haircut (broke!) and I didn’t get a change to bleach my hair. I didn’t get my reel done. I didn’t add up the petty cash for work.

Even though I’m working from home nowadays, Tuesday and Wednesday I spent in the city. I don’t like going there. Especially mid-town. One day I went to Chambers on the JMZ, walked over to 1 Worth St., then over to Leonard and Broadway, then up to Wooster between Houston and Prince, then over East Village where my boss lives to get mail. It gets hazy from here. I think I went to W. 25th St. The lawyer, the accountant, AND my boss’ restaurant/bar are over there.

The next day I went over to the Union Square, then up on the 6 to 33rd, then took the 34 bus to the ACE and down to W. 25th AGAIN.

At some point, I’m too tired to remember… I went to Harold Square and stalked the AMC building until my boss came out of her meeting. OH and I somehow bludered through security of the empire state building not only without my ID, but after I set off the metal detector. Then I somehow wound up on the 38th floor. I had no business there. It just sort of happened.

One day it was 5pm before I ate. The kindness of strangers saved me.

I think I’ve blogged myself into delirium. Have a good Friday, folks. You’ll be hearing from me.

Maybe I’ll visit the spot where Jeff Buckley drowned. Lovely.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 21st, 2005 at 5:10 p and is filed under project updates, bad poetry, inner turmoil, Jack Quack. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.