Weetabix and the fate of my life
It's morning. I'm tired, on my way to a volcano and listening to a deep analysis of what constitutes "real" Weetabix vs. Scottish Weetabix.
I'll spare you the details. We had our industry screening for Romeo & Juliet vs.
The Living Dead yesterday. It was without a doubt one of the most instructive experiences of my life.
I spent most of the following hours wrapped in insecure mood swings and testing the patience of my friends until we started to receive calls and emails from interested journalists and distributors.
This is, of course, the world premiere of R&J coming up on Friday night, but it's also my debut as a feature filmmaker.
It's easy, given the amount of time it takes to develop, produce and release a second feature, to feel that the course of my natural life is dependent on this one film's success.
Is that true? If R&J screens Friday night and never again will that mean I'm destined to remain a below-the-line worker?
Will I find no release for the many feature films rattling around in the confines of my overactive imagination?
Will I never fall in love, get married, have children, watch them grow, drift apart during the difficult teenage years only to come back together after the trials of adulthood have brought them clarity of thought and myself acceptance of the unique human beings they truly are, instead of a collection of my unreasonable expectations...You get the picture. I tend to over-think.
Which is why I'm taking the first part of my day to journey to Arthur's Seat, behold the birthplace of modern geology and not think about the Festival for a while.
When I return, I will be calmer, wiser in the ways of rocks and listening to Joe Dante speak at Cineworld.
Perhaps I'll ask him if mogwai have the need for romantic love.
Life must be simpler if all you need to procreate is a tall glass of water.