You have to get to those other things — ad pitches, Toronto details, Apple/iPhone crap — you’ve been meaning to get to for the last two or three weeks. So you get into this stuff while tapping out the usual column items and stories, only fewer than usual.
And before you know it it’s gotten to be 3:30 or 4 pm and the screening you were going to attend has been cancelled and you really need to take the garbage out and go to the hardware store and print out a document and stuff like that. Then a phone interview happens — good stuff, good fellow, lovely speaking.
But soon after that you turn around and all these things have happened in the online movie world that you haven’t noted or commented upon. So you try and get into this stuff and somehow…ahhh. Maybe because the ad/Toronto/iPhone stuff is still dangling and throwing off sparks like a loose power wire. The day settles down, HBO tries to do what it can and the good old nutso-anxiety currents are pulsing. And then sleep somehow slips in and takes over around 11 pm or so. At least I’m not an insomniac.
And then you have a nightmare about some video of you doing something foolish or intemperate going up on YouTube and your life imploding big-time, and then you wake up and realize it’s okay. You’re so relieved you’re almost weeping. And then you dream about seeing Mick Jagger on Broome Street with a gray overcoat and a thick head of gray hair. Then you start to really wake up at 5 am and the first thought of the day is “uh-oh…my bad.”
So you half sit up and check out the latest Twitters and then dawn begins to break and it’s back to square one. I feel like I’m in a Roman Polanski film. No, not The Tenant. The Pianist, I’m thinking. With maybe a little Repulsion thrown in.