I can think of worse ways to spend a birthday. Which reminds me – I’ll have to postpone my traditional May 14th of watching TV and eating a PB&J while standing over the sink.Pictured above, a party they threw for me here. Or maybe it's actually a happy hour for filmmakers. You say tomato, I say screw you.
Thoughts on day two:
Went for an early run around the city this morning. Really love it here. It has all the charm of a thousand-year-old European villa splashed with Hollywood cool… When my hotel Internet isn’t working, I found a spot down on a corner with free wireless late at night. As I stand there, juggling my Mac, I keep thinking two dudes on a scooter are gonna careen past and yank it out of my hands… I don’t speak a lick of French, but I strangely dig when people here begin speaking it to me, and assume I’m not American. It's happening a lot, but my cover gets blown the second I say something like "bon jour" to a guy walking away from me off an elevator… Toured around the festival palace and met people from production companies from all over the world. They don’t just set up booths here; they create fully functioning, furnished offices. Some small country had a film starring both Big Pussy and Phil Leotardo from “The Sopranos.” It looked horrendously perfect… Euro dollars look way too much like Monopoly money, rendering them easily spent. And since I normally put everything including a stick of gum on my credit card, I’m not a fan of the $1 and $2 coins. Too bulky. Plus, 1¢ and 2¢ coins? Please… The French believe that if you slap the word “mister” in front of a food name, Americans will partake. They got me twice today: Mister Pizza for lunch, Mister Sandwiches for dinner. Bastards.
