forgive me, please

Forgive me? Yes, forgive me. For my what? My absence. I'm on the road from the theotherdayth to the fourteenth, and internet access has been and will be sporadic until I get back home to my marital bed. Right now all I have are hotel beds, and those just aren't marital. Some of them appear to have been prostitutional, but that's as close as it comes.



At some point I'll have more than five minutes to discuss my adventures in documentary filmmaking, and then I'll tell you all. Or some. But I tell you this right now: shooting a reading of a play based on court transcripts from 1880 is a fucking boring experience. Especially when the audience starts making speeches. And the actors are all affecting hideous "sure an' begorrah" Irish accents.



Holy, holy, dullness. Blessed be thee and all thy spawn.