I somehow managed to set my alarm for 8:30 p.m. and yet I only overslept by ten minutes. Getting to the Paramount for Kabul Express was a bit of a slog, but it got done. Then Matty Price put the whammy on me at The Banquet, pointing out that it was a slow and moody 2-hour-plus period piece, but that if I took off early I could hit the rush line for Summer '04, the only remaining "must" film that I was still not going to see. So y'know what? That's what I did. I said goodbye to the Elgin and walked up to the Varsity, solely on the fact that I just haven't done enough rushing in this festival. And for some sick bizarre reason, I enjoy the shit out of that process. It's like blowing up the Death Star or something. It just feels good to win.

My battery is about to kick out due to a Mac issue this morning (yet another Mac issue!); I'm still sort of reeling from the guy next to me in the movie who patiently explained that he never turns off his cell phone in movies, no matter what; and overall, the gruelling emotional experience of the last ten days has aired out every kink and knot in my clumped up heart and made them dance in front of my eyes like so many TIFF trailers. But that's okay. I'm in Taxidermia in an hour and London to Brighton after that, and then Sheitan to close the whole show, and I'm calling it all time well spent. Fire up the cigar, Linda, we're goin' to the movies.