I'm at The Hurst for breakfast again,
after not a good night's sleep, but some sleep. I was all exhilarated
after watching Heather's film—the film she got back after the first
weekend shooting, the rushes. We watched it while it was being
transferred to video (for editing) at this super hi-tech editing
facility downtown. I don't know what was more exciting, watching this
fresh, newly unwatched film (what could be more exciting?) or
watching Jordy on film, Heather's lead actress (she's the only thing
I could imagine to give watching new film a run for its money as far
as excitement goes). I was so wound up after that, that when I got
home I had to sit out on the porch and cool off, and it was cold, and
I had some hot tea and I wrote in my notebook, and I looked over at
the bar. I can always see if the girl at the bar is there, because
she sits in front by the window. I can see her, and who's working
behind the bar, and the people coming and going. It's more
interesting than any TV show ever conceived. When she's there, I
always have reasons for being interested, even though it's a long way
across the street, and nothing really happens and... well, more on
this later.
I want to go back to the previous
night—oh, hell—it's time to go to work (I always think I'm going
to be able to write at work, or on my break, or at lunch, but I never
do).
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