With Gusto

The Tunnel

Mugs. Mugs and mugs and mugs and mugs and mugs. So many mugs.

Still coming out of this mild cold. And I feel drained of late, with everything I have to do. March has always been one of those months to just get through. The light at the end of the tunnel is actually a campfire filled with the decrepet and cowboys that should've died a long time ago. They're all shitting around with bleeding tonsils, playing campfire songs without strings on their guitars. Blood spits out from their throats and flecks their teeth or vapourizes in the fire. But it's a light, dammit! And they'll fill up your jug with that good ol' Mountain Dew.

Then I had workshop, which was held outside, in the sun, on the grass. There was even a guitarist off in the distance strumming melodies with some girl who had dread-locks. The prof suggested a joint, and I internally agreed. And everyone looked good out there in the sun.
Then grad lounge for some iced tea. Then the film meeting. After three months of work, we finally have the screenplay done. Holy shit it's taken a long time. But we didn't want to go for humour, or politics, so it takes a while for things to come together, and to relate everything. . . and yeah. Should be good. We have our shooting days scheduled, and we'll be filming in the horrible little grocery store just down the street for a short scene. I don't know why I included that final fragment. At any rate, I'm tired. I'm home.
I biked to, and back from, school today. I feel healthy after eating a large bowl of J's homemade soup.