A writer lives the sad truth like anyone else. The only difference is, he files a report on it.

And in the spirit of that quote (a dollar and a shot at the Lodge to whoever knows that one), I am drunk as a skunk for the first time in Sweden. Why, you might rationally ask, would a dork like me be drunk on a Thursday? Well, I'll tell ya, pilgrim. It's because I just experienced every 1st AC's worst nightmare: wide open, long lens, handheld, one take flying through an apartment. Oh, as if that's not bad enough, the DP is apparently blind and didn't, after five fucking takes, notice that anything was soft but did tell me about soft bits two days later. Two days later and it's our last day at this location and we can't get one of the actors back even if we wanted to do reshoots. Awesome. So glad I came to your country, could you please try a little harder to make me look like a total asshole. Oh, the shit piles up so fast you gotta have wings to stay above it all. I went out to lunch, had yet another sub-par meal, and joked around with Bjorn and Jonathan and tried to turn the whole day around. I failed. Miserably. Subsequently, I am now drunk, as is Bjorn, and we have another day to deal with at a new location.

I just read what I done wrote and I think I might be the biggest baby in the world. Goodnight, and good luck.