Yes, there is. You haven’t seen me much this month, but I’m still here.
But now, I’m being crushed under the weight of a single book–a catalog, which arrived this morning.
The official TIFF catalog is the size of a phone book, and smells like Chernobyl. So, given the contact high I’ve gotten from the fumes, the adrenaline rush/sheer panic of looking through the schedule, and the endorphin flush that comes from lifting the damn thing, it’s no wonder that I’m a little loopy today. And giddy. And revved up. My schedule–which includes 20 films, a comics run to the Beguiling, and dinners–will go up right here tomorrow. For any festival-goers who need to understand the intricacies of the selection process (that’s me, bub!), go here for starters. Again, any suggestions are welcome.