I'm not certain if I have this right, but it seems that I am writing the entry for the 18th on the 18th. But how can that be?

I must be mistaken.

So yesterday I came into Boston in order to edit my movie, my lovely little movie.

Four hours on the train, then I went out to Ed's house at the end of the T line, lugging The Heaviest Bag in All the Land. You wouldn't have thought that I needed much for two days in Boston, but between my laptop and my camera (which I never used), it was quite a load.

I got there by about 1.30p, and we rolled up our sleeves and started to work. He had done a rough edit of the beginning and the end sections, and it was amazing, incredible to see just that, needing the sound to be fixed, needing colour correction, jumpy, not complete, but it was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen, me and Cynthia and Le's words, right there on the screen, right where I dreamed we would be.

Editing is incredible. I thought that it would be interesting, but tedious in a way, but it wasn't, it was like treasure hunting, or sculpting. You know how they say that in order to sculpt a bird, you take a piece of marble and chip away everything that isn't a bird. Well, editing a movie is chipping away everything that isn't the movie. Finding the story in the different angles and takes.

It's incredible how we would look at a section that wasn't quite right, and one of us would suggest cutting one frame from the beginning of one clip, making it just a little shorter, and that would make it so different, and suddenly it was just fine!

It was quite mindblowing to really know just how important an editor is. I think that Ed found it interesting to have been able to have a hand before the editing process, to have shot it and to know what the shots were and what he had to work with.

After about five hours, we stopped and I went to Harvard Square to meet Robert and Scott.

I had thought that I was just meeting them for a minute to show them my purple hair and pick up the keys to Robert's apartment, because they were going to the theatre, but it turned out that they had mistaken curtain time, so I had some dinner, and then we went to meet Patrick around the corner.

We sat for a bit, Scott insisting on telling us a story of a man he knows online who likes to have other men poop in his mouth. I made dolphin sounds. Scott said that once, a guy pooped in the guy's mouth, and, as he told Scott, "It just didn't taste very good!"

"Can you imagine complaining about the taste of poop?"
"Well," I said, "He is a connoisseur!"

When Patrick came, he brought the famous Lee, who was just great, and I insisted on telling them the Poop Eater story. If I have to have it in my head, everyone else has to, too. I'm taking as many of you down with you as I can.

Patrick and Lee were a stitch together, finishing each other's sentences like an old married couple. It's really something to see people who have been friends for so long. I have known Robert and Scott as long, longer, actually, since high school, but we don't see each other all the time, so you don't get that easy flow of words all twining about like you do with them.

If I could sell tickets to A Conversation Between Patrick and Lee, I would. And I'd be rich!

Then, I tricked (tricked I say!) Patrick into driving us home, and almost immediately collapsed on Robert's sofa, eyes pinwheeling with exhaustion.

Y'know, when I was in my twenties, I would laugh heartily at three hours of sleep, "Three? Who needs more than three? Buncha pussies!" but now that I am in my dotage, I would laugh at three hours of sleep, but I'd fall asleep after one Ha!

Not even the purple hair helps.

What's the ickiest story that you ever heard?

And we're still talking about our most recent trip, the most spontaneous thing we've done lately, how we feel about medication, the one right way to do things, self-knowledge, running out of time, new movie recommendations, what we need to be happy, our personal angels, our offices, vocal tics, and bad movies we love.

Today's horoscope:
Visit a favorite hang-out and you recapture fond memories. New pleasures await as well.

One year ago today:
"Why is she making her mother sound like my mother? Does Cynthia pretend to be French?"

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Last Updated Mon 19 September 09:42:09 2000