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Yesterday was a bit of a short letter, but that’s not why I’m writing. Not out of some lame guilt. It’s because I really and truly want to. Or maybe even need to.
We’re in the real slut of winter right now. Light? No thanks! Just 9 hours a day for me, please. And make those 9 hours right when I’m in an office with just two windows that face the cold, dark north. That’s what I want. And everybody gets what he wants.
But when work gets you down, I like to play a game to keep things moving. Like, go into work and see how long you can go without crying, and then tomorrow try to beat that record. I almost lost it today just walking from my car! Remember that episode of Full House where Danny misses having little kids so he starts hanging out with the Olson twins all the time? And their mom gets mad, but then tells him he can have a special “Uncle Danny Day” every week to hang out with them? I had to lean on the trunk of my car an wince for a few minutes until that passed. Why would that scene pop into my head? Why today? Why now?
Who can say really? I’m in a sorta happy afterglow of last week right now. I know for a fact because of this little birdie I hired that spies on you from an idling 70s Chevy in the darkness that you are decidedly NOT in a happy afterglow. But don’t worry, because in a couple days, the days get longer. Which I guess isn’t what you want, since you’re in the Movie Business, and that just means more light. I imagine movie guys treat light the way The Great Humongous treated Go Juice in The Road Warrior. They’re hoarding it in closets and barrels hidden in school buses. Watching their stocks go up through the smoke of huge cigars. Maybe that’s what Pulp Fiction was about now that I think about it.
But I’ve hit that point in my winter where I’ve started watching the Alien Quadrilogy. I’m gonna go ahead and say it, Alien3 isn’t that bad.
Great, a single tear. One hour, forty five minutes into my work day. God. Why do I even try.