The road to Moab: Headed south to Southern Utah next week to meet moms and pops, to meet sister and nephew Pat. There, I plan to wander the red rocks, smell sage brush on the wind, and see as many desert sunsets as possible.
Work dreams: Got a couple humungous projects weighing me down. I know that I’ve been working a lot lately because I’ve been dreaming about it. Dreaming about words and sentences. Isn’t that sad? Instead of spinning into strange watery landscapes where I ride ocean liners with my mom and then jump off towering cliffs into the pale, shining waves, I’m just sitting there trying to come up with taglines. It’s lackluster. It’s too REAL. I don’t want real life when I close my eyes, I want fucking fairy tales.
Black Mass: Hard boiled. Exceptionally acted. It’s one of the best modern-day gangster stories evahhhh, if you can get over the facial prosthetics that make Johnny Depp look like a blue-eyed cyborg. Which I couldn’t.