today I wrote my first script, a tiny, bud of a bud of a bud of a bud, horribly amateurish with an incomplete ending and severely lacking details, but it is a 10 pager printed out screenplay (thanks celtx) and Im glad.

fridays are always spent in a kind of daze, an early morning rush and suddenly the ties of a week floats free, and I kind of just follow what ever that happens, half-existing still in the world of stories, storytelling and film, and of course it always ends up with a huge meal of home cooked food and (half the time) baking sessions; the concrete way to return home truly.

and this particular friday is more hazy than usual, I don't even know when it started, yesterday melting into night and softly creeping as light again this morning. nights spent not sleeping are actually pretty awesome, time somehow passes by like a bullet train, and once you get over the first few miserable hours with an overdose of coffee and food things pretty much gets back to normal.

but it's a lovely haze of scriptwriting (I have no idea what went on during lecture today except for the script - except when kungfu panda was shown; one just can't bloody ignore that movie) murakami's short stories and woody allen's "wry wit" and all his unapologetically admitted faults and smarts. this is good american humour (the hangover is bad american humour)

hoping to get a solid block of rest before the heavy weekend