In other news, I’m afraid I’m coming down with the Sundance Flu, a bug that started claiming victims near the end of the festival and has continued to wreak havoc on members of the press since then. Cooped up together in the same screening rooms all day, and then sharing each other’s needles and crack pipes at night — that’s a recipe for disaster.
I’ll try to produce at least the minimum amount of work the next couple days, but if I go away for a while you’ll know why. And if the masseuse shows up tomorrow and finds me naked and dead, I hope she calls 911 before she calls anyone else. (People with the Sundance Flu are allowed to make jokes about anything they want.)