A short respite of warmer-than-usual breezes wafted through Brooklyn today, and most people were out taking advantage of it; when you grow up in any of the inclement climes offered by states north of I-40, you grab your good fall days anywhere you can get them. On the first real warm day of spring, half the population of Chicago, whether they have jobs or not, can be seen frolicking up the beaches and rollerblading down Lake Shore Drive. The same thing happens on this side of the winter, because we all know pretty soon it’ll be sunsets at 3pm and wind gusts that stick icy hands of misery up your sweater. They say you should always get ten minutes of direct sunlight per day (meaning no sunglasses) to stave off seasonal affective disorder. There are entire swaths of time up north when that is actually quite difficult.
Speaking of difficult, I had to begin a regimen today to determine why I’m getting these kidney stones. In other words, I have to collect my day’s pee into a giant jug and carry it around with me all day. As Tessa and I walked through the West Village (after seeing the Tar Heels’ thrilling comeback over Rutgers), few people on 6th Avenue were probably carrying around their day’s collection of urine. In fact, I’d wager very few were. I’d go so far as to say I was the only guy lugging around a bucket of his day’s pee in a backpack.
Who thought getting into your thirties would reduce a man to this? And to think I have another whole 24-hour period of being Johnny Has to Carry His Pee to look forward to.
We did some good work on the movie today, despite another round of technical hell. We’ve decided to work in those delicious windows between system crashes and “kernel panics,” and managed to turn the beginning of the movie from “draggingly oblique” into “only-slightly-confusingly funny.” Which is damn fine work if’n you ask me. Tomorrow, more editing on the 2nd and 3rd reel.
Oh, and more peeing. *sigh*