I drank a whole bottle of Lambrusco

And I would do it again. I wouldn’t actually. But I woke up feeling hung over and happier than I ever have in my life. I turned on the TV, successfully. I watched The Last of the Mohicans because I love Daniel Day-Lewis but more so for Barbara Harris. Arthur Kopit said that “this isn’t Daniel Day-Lewis, this is Barbara Harris. She isn’t becoming the role, she’s becoming someone else…” Okay? So, I watched the man that Spielberg said “becomes” the thing. He’s not getting bent out of shape as to what that means, he just needs the guy who’s going to become the guy. Maybe I’ll watch The Mask next since Jim Carrey became the mask itself, you understand, first. Early. So, what’s that? Barbara Harris has no mask? Like you’re…watching…Jim Carrey become Daniel Day-Lewis? Like OBAMA. It’s OBAMA becoming Daniel Day-Lewis becoming OBAMA. He did it. He became himself. I’m just joking around, even for her, I don’t know, because she had an illness, apparently, like it was apparent, you couldn’t not see it, and she was extraordinary because of it? One of these. I thought she might have been a prodigy of some kind, hilarious, back in the day, I would have courted her as a psychologist, it would have been funny. Truly.

I suppose times have changed.

But imagine that? You’re told your whole life that something is wrong with you to discover you’re the most amazing……presence…..that anyone has ever seen. lol. Wow. But thank God for her, because I’m not even “there,” and I still have to boost myself up. Me? On this Netflix channel? Yes. Why not? She’s my biggest influence next to Hannah Arendt.

So I watched Daniel Day-Lewis. Such a good actor. Why is that such a good movie? The Last of the Mohicans. I refer to this title all the time, not knowing why. I thought about Cruise, also, in The Last Samurai, how he, too, had to put a Bible together, and so, he took screenshots as I have of his references. It’s sort of like that…it just cracked me up…watching Cruise on Photoshop…putting together a movie bible. With a tea. I suppose it’s…

The thing is, Lewis knows who Harris is. Everyone does. She’s considered to be one of the best. De Niro’s favorite actress. So, Bradley Cooper knows that. You see the connections? Inside the Actor’s Studio. I appreciated getting to know her work. Why would I not pursue what I wanted? If I really wanted that? And now, I’m taking a couple of days off, since I have over two weeks. Over two weeks. A God send. I love this man, this producer man. Thanks for not telling me. Whatever. And there he is: Cruise—blond. Sure. So many ghost movies. Truly.

I don’t know what to say about me as a baby hanging out with The Breakfast Club, I hope it does make you laugh. It’s the heartwarming feel through this real crazy story, the family, this one. The memories. It was a comedic group of people even if it’s going to get really real. Even this couple’s love for each other is funny. She is. 100% — her fabulous legs make her funnier. You’ll really care about these people, hopefully. They are A TIGHT TALENTED FAMILY, I mean, wow. Jose really did make it to # 1 at sixteen. (Matt Damon is in a cool car, coming in from the future. Voiceover. Oh, we’re going back in time…okay, I’m going to have to really watch this movie…)

People came over to their family parties for that reason too. They were an inspirational family, Brazilian and Jewish? I mean. That’s where I was…the cutest baby ever. Not to say that I was. But that’s what that picture is. You need to find THAT baby. Meaning, the BABY that’s going to ATTRACT audiences. Right? Who’s that baby? In this situation? Please no. She’s hilarious. Just my little hands grabbing onto his and her seat, at the police station again, my face coming visible so pissed, like I intend to SEE THIS. A bust? There were so many police cars, I remember that. Anyway, THAT baby is speaking her mind…telling this dancing woman her point of view on the Catholics. She would…look at me… I hated the Catholics. I was already confused as to what these people believed in. On the third day he rose again…that was the kicker. I had never heard such outrageous stories! He just said a man rose from the DEAD. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I was blown away. I told this priest, out loud, in church. “No he didn’t…” come on. And the nervous laughter really stayed with me. So do you believe in this? I’m confused.

I was a true terror.

Running through this house…

Unafraid.

No one will go near me…because I will bite scream throw…so JOSE has to…

He did, he had to screw me up with confusing footwork.

That was a tough time. Hilarious.

There’s only so much that a four-year-old can do. But I was doing it.

It’s not my fault, but when you think about what could have happened to me, these people were the nicest, no? Women holding down the perimeter screaming JOSE! These were real matches between us. Snarling. Angry.

And the thing is, last night, I mean, Jesus Christ, was that true? I mean, about my father…I went through something rather terrible. My mother was tough on that level. At that age, I knew what sexual abuse was, because I figured my mother had been a victim of child abuse, I mean…I can just picture Angelita’s face if I told her that my mother put on a chaste routine. In Paris. That really…Lady, I remember your lovers, delusional. A totally delusional person. Angelita saw her naked body. She was THAT. She could just get naked. She was loose. The definition of.

It’s just that, with her, at least, someone might go, hmmm what brilliant writing, when it’s just Dr. J. Yeah, just exit naturalism. she can call 5 times in a row. She’s a wild card. I’m a tad bit worried that people might not believe she’s real. They’re expecting a typical “villain” so I might not be able to fully go there yet, hmm, she’s not believable, well, that was part of the problem. You didn’t believe it. We’ll see, I have another mask for her… more artful. I don’t know how to put that. A slightly different version. But she really was unbelievable. I couldn’t tell if she had something structural going on, you see, I don’t use “mental illness” because I typically go back to their home first. Boundaries, consequences, abuse, filth? Meaning, it was unclean? Did you eat? Okay? I came from an unbelievable story, so this isn’t…was sexual abuse that casual? I mean, what the hell was this?

I wondered if she lacked basic filters between realities. A phrase came into my head one day as I was meditating on her psychology when I was 12 since she fascinated me, truly speaking. NO filter between realities. So I contemplated mine. Between dreams. Daydreaming. And real life. We have areas within the psyche that allow us to express fantasy, even, but DR. J — even that name — seemed to lack these filters. Separations. A friend of mine gets PARANOID that she’s really sick when she starts to feel sick, meaning, it’s grave. She knows that it’s not true, but she gets paranoid. I can see these structures in people. She’s not going to go all the way and start acting super sick…because she has this small fear. There are limits. You need those. Belief is not nothing. I didn’t see those in her. So as a kid, I studied people, like I see the architecture. I see that there’s a basic structure. With her…not so sure. And now, who knows?

Matt Damon driving fast in a goddamn car.

I was OBSESSED with psychology. I mean, truly obsessed. That’s why I went into theater so young, actually, but then, I couldn’t really do it until now…I started looking up people who came into the profession later in life. People do. I have artistic goals now. The Oldest Storyteller is one of them. Sort of a scary feeling. It could actually happen. And going, putting down BROTH, since you know, Lambrusco just goes down. I got a vision through this character: the oldest storyteller. It showed up, almost reached out a hand, like you could get here. I just couldn’t believe it. Really? And it’s a character I’ve been developing for years now. I can get there. The last original apartment in the Chelsea Hotel is such a splendid setting for Death, at least, to begin, since a fairytale was almost coming to an end in my world, and his lines are exquisite. I hope so.

“It will not hold architecturally, this will not hold, not architecturally.”

That was the feeling I started to have. This won’t hold.

I can turn the wheel now.

And that seems to be very true. I went through quite a deep transformation of self. It’s not the same world. Wouldn’t have made the same decisions. At all. On any level. Except, I have some stories to share about someone who made unusual choices all the same…The Year I was Invaded by the Russians. And The Oldest Storyteller is about that journey. I guess coming out of repression. I led myself with the power of storytelling as a guide, Death is the ultimate guide, so that’s what that was, I just liked the idea of bringing a character like that into the world — who doesn’t like power or who isn’t about power, someone who looks every Man straight in the eye. And I did feel time bend, which is funny, and I could begin to use that experience in some way. I mean, I think that I could have gotten sick, that sometimes, I mean, I think I even experienced a miracle. “I have seen Gods die to become ordinary men, and I have seen ordinary men die to become extraordinary men,” that line rose from my belly as ENERGY first. It rose as a full line. I was in quite a lot of pain.

No more pain.

That was quite a year.

The LINE got me out of bed because it was so sensationally strange, impossible.

I’ll get there…but it will be breathtaking, Death will be breathtaking.

That’s not even technically it. That’s not even in that story, I think, but I’m just saying.

Look, um, when your friend says he might murder a PERSON first, or that he would, conceptually, kill a politician but it’s a person first…you see. Why not me? That’s why he scared me. I just had particular problems. Which is in The Oldest Storyteller. That part. “As your manager?” Then, this guy called himself my manager. He knows it. Or else, he’s taken too many drugs. You see??? As your manager with a belittling hand. You see, his talk about the apocalypse? Belittling. I just had no idea what this was. And he continued to disrespect me. No longer friends.

I’m on a different train of thought now, BUT I always loved classical, so that’s Death to me: DEUS EX MACHINA. I saw that t-shirt, I thought, huh. He, she, they are coming down to set some things straight. That was quite a journey for me personally, more like an awakening, so I like Death on the brink of dawn. It became one of my artistic goals. I’m not there yet, so “insert good monologue” later. Since I needed to lay down sometimes. Home, for example. The sensation or the experience of some of these openings were a bit too large to have a casual conversation. Why is this (The Giver) so deep? Well, because it’s home. Watching Daniel Day-Lewis helps. I’m waiting to hear about this contest I submitted a scene to, but I’ll probably just publish that one soon on my website. I am going to redo it. Since this is Meet Joe Black on a whole other level. Death steps into the last original apartment at the Chelsea Hotel…

And here I am, about to submit my first movie idea to the festival circuit? I have no social media platform but FILM doesn’t give a shit but BOOKS do? I suppose I’ll get there. In any case, with The Oldest Storyteller, I might do a short first, of DEATH just leading someone through a flash. That’s one part of it. Doesn’t matter where…you go. You can imagine it being cool. Obama might see it. This is my goal. It truly is. The Obamas saw it.

I’ll just send them a copy.

Death is this interesting character because it exists regardless of the reality…fiction, nonfiction, since I had problems with these genres…and I could work it out….laughing because Death exists regardless. As an idea. There’s something called an end. And now, I’m here. I suppose nothing has happened yet, but I’m a step closer to realizing what I saw? People write movies, maybe successful ones, which, look, that’s what I’m reaching for, why wouldn’t I? I’m sort of talking about it over here on the side, since no one reads my blog, since nothing has happened yet. Yeah, I’d like to write a female Joker, of course I would, I mean, DR. J? Though JOY might be a better name. That’s another goal. Something. Great. Truly, nothing but depth here, that the VILLAIN set me free.

I have no idea what to say about my parents, but I went through something totally excruciating, and I saw the Joker. That was the darkest before the dawn moment. Hilariously. I could write a female Joker. I couldn’t conceptually go there, it was too painful, even, I couldn’t CONCEIVE in that direction, too sensational. But I could get there. Now, I’m like, ooooo villains, how fun! And I thought, oh, well, villains could do a lot of good. So, I suppose I could make Dr. J a hero in some other world now, but I could write a super compelling iconic female villain. A real Joker. So, step one, gotta get out of here, the hospital. I wasn’t going to receive care here, too confused, no one was equipped to handle abuse, like are you feeling things? You cannot ask me “are you experiencing hallucinations, it’s sensations…” that’s the question. Yes, on that level, yes.

My friend totally terrified me, too, understandably, with CRAZY talk. Oh? You would murder someone? Is that what you’re saying? The ONLY reason WHY you wouldn’t KILL a politician, excuse me? Is because of your cushy life? But again, I was coming out of a whole way of life, and I had structural problems, meaning, even the people I was CLOSE to. People change, that too. Death was there. Is there. By default! But what am I supposed to do? It’s just an idea. I’m more on THAT side of things now since I grew up…in a sense.

And some message ended up coming through my website, interestingly, punched me in the gut at the end of this remarkable year where I opened my childhood back up. Which was why I thought these couple of people did it. I asked for my money back the night before…and this message came through at 5 am (I’m already up) about my bank being shut down. Now, I thought they hated me, in fact. So that message hit me physically in that, a block of stone MOVED, it was crazy, and HIT another. So, will I come to find that was repression in some deep way since I started feeling all sorts of things? But when it came to abuse, it was a lie, wasn’t it? I hung onto that very tightly. I couldn’t even speak. Talk about it. It was a lie. But you see, in the real story, which is going to be in this fiction, but I’m changing the outcome. She decided it wasn’t true…about my father…based on what?

THAT LADY?

My whole understanding of that situation changed.

Death is cool, since it’s also a return to childhood, though I would never use that word as a child. I was SO SO serious. Befriending “concepts called death” to understand my father’s condition. You see? I was living in a strange world. I had never shared it with anyone. So, in a sense, who else but Death? Death, I was thinking, what does that flash even mean? What a remarkable question. What does that mean? Your whole life? Especially since my WHOLE life changed. Whoosh, I’m glad I worked that out because I feel like I HAVE my WHOLE life. There’s a real difference. I’ve probably always wanted to feel this way. Like, I wake up feeling happier and happier and I can pursue something. That’s Death.

He just can’t change that he exists. That’s it.

I don’t hold the belief system that the GODS or Death is out to get you. I obviously can’t explain why people die, but I experienced something more like a miracle…that life is about your fulfillment. Why would “he” want to get in the way? He just can’t change that he exists. The ultimate guide: Death. I thought a little healing in that direction might do some good. And “time” doesn’t really exist, though it does, since that time-bending experience showed me that. You see, I started REALIZING that it happened, for real, so I totally freaked out like 25 years later. WHAT?! I FELT TIME BEND? A bit hard to believe…but it happened. I can’t help that I grew up in the circumstances that I did.

I don’t know what to say…but the kids at St. Jerome’s School really actually supported me through the worst. And it was a beautiful moment since The Oldest Storyteller is about the power of storytelling, and that’s what you want, you want that language to be thrilling, you want Death to be that, and I got my whole life back, in a sense, with these kids, these great kids, running to support me. So it’s almost like I got support in my story to get through the most difficult…and then, I saw “a moving moment” with that character over there because I had to stay there for a moment…that school…because I needed to.

Death can’t change what my life was, what it meant to me, you see. But I started to see that that school, that class, might be pure gold. “A great environment for a story,” this is the oldest storyteller. I would have NEVER thought about it, but it’s SO true. That class. It’s ALL about that class. I guess a character is like an idea, just like anything else, I just found it to be rather powerful. Seeing the potential in my own story. What I could do with it. That was a sensationally tough period. So a class of kids — more than one — held me in a sense. Now, I’m cohesive. It was almost like I drew OUT my inner child, forget not in touch with, and I GREW UP. Seeing myself for the first time as a kid. It’s going to make sense, how I got “off track,” though healing seems to have taught me that nothing is lost in a way though I had to go through loss of time, meaning, I’m 38, I’m not 20. But that’s it. That gets easier. You’ll see, though, how I actually came together, I just couldn’t help where I came from.

I had to go through delusion too, it’s just, to Death, to that kind of character — there’s nothing that unusual about delusion. It’s Death, a part of every story ever told, so that perspective inspired me. Helped me. Nothing you can’t do. Not really. Death had even seen miracles. Really. And then, I love the space of the unknown which Death also doesn’t negate. And it’s dynamic since I went through a lot.

I’ll just never forget it. It wasn’t exactly a hallucination. I was writing (The Hours) and let’s say a new perspective was dawning in me, like “maybe you weren’t the biggest bitch that ever was,” at four, that’s it. That was the only suggestion. And, amazingly, “the characters from my life” came RUSHING in: a psychological space. To defend that belief. I felt like HOOKS on my body. Like what is this? So I had to work through a belief system I had no awareness of.

Oh great, I thought, Death can be thrilling and fast.

I went through the “I don’t believe this, do I?” Well, I guess I did. I never thought about how I felt. I went through a crisis of meaning, everyone seems to be in one, so even better. Right on time. As a fiction, it all works. Death sort of raising someone even, sort of interesting. Um, talking to a HUMAN, thinking about that FLASH, creating a role…I have these moments that are so vivid in my mind like me holding the tape recorder — since I was WAKING up — and Death is on the couch behind me, in every moment, I see, looking out the window. It’s cool, right? Asking me…what this meant? Asking me questions that had to do with that, thinking, OH, that’s your DOMAINE. Meaning. That’s Death’s domain. Meaning. Everything has meaning.

And sure, not everything HAS to mean something, seriously.

But that’s his domain.

He has to become a blade.

Through these voices.

It’s just that the presence of Death really did something. Since…what are you going to say to Death? Really?

Evidently, it’s easy to say now, but WHO CARES IF IT WAS TRUE? WHO CARES? IF IT WAS TRUE? It doesn’t have to be true. If you think about how young people learn things, even if I was the WORST criminal, since I FELT like that way. By the time I got to New Jersey, yeah, since that’s where I am now…the second family I got involved with. That took me in.

I think I searched for honesty, and you can’t lie to Death. There was something soothing about it. He’s not a judge. Honesty. I thought that was another one of these words that people might appreciate. Which ends up, too, being a deep subject. And there was one idea, I mean, God is in everything, too, it’s just that DEATH is an idea that everyone knows is real. Really real. Even the atheists can’t argue that Death doesn’t. Really. What it means is another question.

I don’t need to go there. It’s a bit too much. Like, it takes 7 days to cross over, this sort of thing, and I don’t know what to say about my dream recently, but it was rather fascinating. I saw my father in his office still confused…as to where he was…why was he in NY? When his office is in LA. So I had to take him in…to help him die. He was still dying. This was the dream. And then, I found myself in a primordial space, like a cave, and his body got on a slab next to his siblings, okay lineage, and crossed over. It was just like that. I woke up in Pompei. I had to in the middle of the night…work through that dream.

I figured that The Oldest Storyteller as a story would continue to develop itself, it’s a fiction, now that I don’t have beef with fiction.”I’m not a liar,” you see, that fear, was really real. And this story idea started making fun of me…like, ooooo, here’s some imaginative section, and we’re driving past THE ACTUAL street, so do we have to go back to your house? Or can we just get to the scene? Put it somewhere else? Does it make it less true? I had these hang-ups. Truly. I couldn’t move. I am not a liar!

I had to work out a lot personally but as a fiction it works.

Wonderful. I’m writing a fiction already.

Once Upon a Time on Miracle mile Is REAL. It really happened. But I have to write it. I think I’m right. A family centered drama/comedy is the way to go. NOW, three weeks later, I can conceive of going home, doing anything, really. Everything FLOWS is actually quite good, I think, but this producer doesn’t even have time to read ONE, but he IS, for me, and he told me it was a month when it was really a month and two weeks. Which I really appreciated. You see, freedom, I don’t even give a shit that he lied, or got the date wrong, who knows? I got a bottle of Lambrusco.

Suffering a bit today but BARELY. I watched The Last of the Mohicans and everyone should.

I saw nothing but possibilities.

Death The Oldest Storyteller, it felt, okay, if I’m being honest, that I opened up my life…the past…to write something…and it could have gone in a few ways, to keep it focused, on the field of PROBABILITY. One of those might have been dark since it seemed like it was going to be a bumpy ride regardless. I had to put some relationships away. Yada yada. But I could get here. That’s it. Thrilling. Just seeing that idea get more real. I’ll publish that short soon. Just how that character moves…and my character is…figuring it out…since it’s about focus too. I had a problem of focus, nothing wrong, you see, but he can move in the blink of an eye, “wherever you turn,” you see, she’s figuring it out…”you’re not in a rush…” Why would he be? You see? Takes his time. Just think about STORIES. That’s his domain! Storytelling.

DEATH doesn’t care that I am psychic. He even helped me with that. In a scene. Grabbing my head in Istanbul, needing to deal with THIS, even. Someone called me “a portal, channel, and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence,” this is why I have trouble manifesting…now I’m in Fes, Morocco, getting my breakfast bread, sorry I had Lambrusco yesterday, so my mind is moving in a particular way…but that day, that morning, I saw a magical weave which was before this moment in Istanbul, but I felt like I was starting to be able to, remember your WHOLE life. But I had to work through people believing that I was really psychic, I’m not that psychic! Come on. Last night, a couple of people appeared in my mind — like — talking about me? Like, I’m not that psychic. No. Close that door. Did they? If Will did, cool, but I don’t care. Anyway, back in Istanbul, this character appeared — pointed to a door and told me to walk through it. A portal, sure, the decoration was not his concern.

“By the rules of reality, you have a choice.”

Istanbul.

On some level, you’re choosing.

Just think of him her them as “the oldest storyteller” here.

Having less story.

Step one.

Choice.

I don’t have to.

Ridiculous! I mean, people speak to me, some, as if my psychicness…you can’t not see it. I have no idea why. But I’ve had enough mysterious experiences to…talk about that. Energy being the base of it.

Now, as an idea, DEATH can move. No one is “attached” to…it, right? Death looking at me. He’s just a door.

You see, the order of this story can change since I typically take a visual ride when I take this character for a spin, so we’re in Istanbul in my mind. If you stop to consider TIME since I had this experience with time, it’s interesting. What choices we’re making in the field of everything that is: probability? Is it true? Does the future write the past, in a sense? CHOICES. CHOICE. So I just made a door, on my walk, and walked through it. Choice. I have a choice. I left the psychic stuff behind. On that level, just help me. If I turn out to be very psychic, “cool.” I’ve had enough mysterious experiences, yes, if there’s energy in the room, I’m the one who’s going to feel it, typically, so “cool,” all good, people love these stories, DEATH saw no issue with it, and I could even think about it because I am psychic, I’ve had mysterious experiences, but I had to seriously clear my head. I left that behind. You go be psychic.

“As far as I can tell,” one of his lines. Good right? Death helping me with “the psychic stuff” even. Sure, Death can assemble “extraordinary men” through time and space, sure, and I might just be one of them. My character. Even the “it’s not innocent until proven guilty,” Death appeared in a courtroom. Since justice is his domain as well. He’s not a judge. “It’s that you’re all fundamentally innocent.” That’s it. That’s just the Oldest Storyteller.

Deep, big, can’t wait to get there—fast. The “step by step with Death” is going to be thrilling. Out of Wonderland, even. It’s probably some warrior technique, don’t you think? Keep death close. But remember, a, I don’t know if someone I knew sent me that stupid message at 5 AM. It doesn’t matter, that impact was intense. But then, I have no idea what to say about the past + “the body records everything,” uh. Plus someone who has “human problems,” which I did, I thought was moving. I just love death’s eyes between the shadows of my pink blinds. No? As a kid. Making all these decisions.

And you can picture — spiritually even — the oldest storyteller performing a role…”you made a decision.” I became aware of the decisions I made since Death is a strict focus. I remember trying to describe this character at one point…”he’s purely present…” “Strictly,” he corrected me immediately. “Strictly present. Purely is your transference,” he said in Ignazo’s room. He suggested that I adopt the perspective. He pointed at me. “Adopt it. Adopt the perspective!” I was pure, he was strict, so I’m stricter, in general. As a person. Not pure. There’s a blade for you, okay? I invented the character — I did it.

Just the magic of stories, you know, having went through the period where I called Death a fool, just as a joke, not for real. Finally, I typed… “say aristocracy.” And, well, I couldn’t, I couldn’t say it right. “Try.” And then, I couldn’t say it right. “ARIStocracy.” I laughed. “ArisTOcracy…” I can’t even say “aristocracy” correctly, the letters make no sense.

I saw people enjoying this one.

“As far as I can tell…” A good line for that character, right? The oldest storyteller that meets The Giver, too. A part of every story ever told.

Not going off too much but I just love that story. I love that character.

On a personal note, I think it could have gone in a few ways for me, opening up my childhood, the whole thing, since it’s true, it wasn’t going to hold architecturally. It was going to be a bumpy ride probably, or I might have gotten sick, I don’t know, if I didn’t make some decisions back then. Especially around repressed anger, fear. I’m still young, does that make sense? I wanted to live a long life, I really did, and it was like — hold on…is that a question? 50s is still young. So I turned a wheel…because no one is worth my life…no one’s ideas are WORTH my life. There was a successful route. I saw in this character’s eyes…a vision beyond my wildest dreams. I could get there. I could tell that story. I’m not there yet. I felt the impact of it, even, that’s what I think, I hope, I felt that. And I got through that. And, I’m just a little closer. FROM TURKEY. I’m in Italy now. Needing to eat.

Taking two days off. That’s it.

I did drink an entire bottle of Lambrusco. I never do that. I feel a little heavy, you know, typing through this, needing to eat, but I’ve just never been HAPPIER. Truly. I wanted to feel like this my whole life. I really did. Interesting because it’s ME, but then, many people don’t know me, so who cares? Only because to some, who cares, Death is quick (lol), I might have appeared…I don’t know…but I know the difference. So imagine, I sell my first movie idea, and then, it’s so good. And I’ll get to the oldest storyteller…so now, I have to…watch Matt Damon race. I like Matt Damon. I like lots of people.

I watched The Last of the Mohicans and The Talented Mr. Ripley because Mr. Wonderful showed up in my head and told me to watch more films by Anthony Minghella. Which I’ll probably do. Another Lewis film too. Gangs of New York.

I still have to digest movies.

Got food.