Nevertheless, was rather productive, answering two months' backlog of reader email, adding some links, cleaning out old/dead pages, talking to a few webmasters... and I did try to read The Quaker City: The Monks of Monk-hall. etc., et al., honest. I'll have to cram tomorrow (500 pages!), but I just couldn't keep from falling asleep today. Although it was amusing how all these 1830s gentlemen are seducing fresh-faced young girls left and right, invariably gushing over said maidens' "noble busts," "neat ankles," and "provocative bonnets." I shit you not, man.
Meanwhile, Vladimir's leaving for Gothenburg in the morning--well, actually, I think it is morning his time right now. He'll leave when it's noon his time and way too damn early my time. He is a Very Important Person at the film festival--he is, in fact, a juror. He'll be emailing reports from the fest and, with any luck, will send me back some autographs. Last time he was at a festival--Venice, I think? My head hurts--he sent me a postcard with a completely illegible scrawl on the side. It took me days to realize that the signature belonged to Jonathan Demme, who made what was for many years my favoritest movie ever omg*squee*!. He said he tried to get me Johnny Depp's, but--and I am not making this up, stereotypical as it sounds--the teenage fangirls mauled Johnny so rabidly that Vladimir couldn't even get close, and he was attending as a journalist.
Damn you, teenies! The twentysomethings were here first!