I just want to leave Toronto. The festival is all but over and running on fumes, and I’ve been doing the 18-hour work day for seven days straight (this is my eighth) and I just want to go back to New York and downshift and resume my normal 14-hour work day. I always feel this way around the eighth or ninth day of any film festival. Later.

Yes, I want to catch Take Shelter at 6 pm — definitely looking forward, etc. But I couldn’t get into the Duplass brothers’ Jeff Who Lives At Home. Jonathan Demme‘s I’m Carolyn Parker: The Good, The Mad and the Beautiful wasn’t my idea of transporting. And Francis Coppola‘s Twixt was some kind of dreadful. And it put me…okay, not just the Coppola film but the whole day so far has put me into a cranky closet. Sorry. I’m working on an escape. Sourpuss moods are unattractive, I realize.