I sat next to Alan Ball. That's right I sat next to Alan Ball. Alan Ball Alan Ball Alan Ball. Yeah. That was me: next to Alan Ball.

The flick was Une Vieille Maîtresse, I sort of stalked him just a tiny bit when I saw him just outside the door, and sat down right next to him and Peter Macdissi. Macdissi didn't say shit. Alan Ball, on the other hand, was quite friendly and we chatted for a bit about Nothing is Private, and whether or not the subject matter is actually as shocking it's being treated, and so forth. It was quite pleasant. He asked me about my films and I talked to him about Six Feet Under and yeah, that's about the best celebrity encounter I think I've ever had at the film festival except for maybe Gus Van Sant who was also, after the Gerry screening five years ago, very gracious with me and fun to talk to. But yeah: I am a sweet fucking happy man right now.

Oh, and the movie? Hottest fucking thing ever. One of the best I've seen so far, too. Catherine Breillat, all stroked up and crazy, was here in person. And the movie just got me, hook line and sinker. I'm officially calling a "will the real Asia Argento please stand up." She was fucking terrible in Mother of Tears, and so fucking good here it blew my mind. All kinds of crazy, eating blood off the bullet wound her lover took because he insulted her, shrieking in the fucking desert because her little girl got killed by a scorpion... man howdy, if there is a prevailing theme for the festival so far for me (one that isn't the official "cultural overlap" theme), it's powerful female characters. I am fucking drunk on them right now, I've seen so many. This one was every single kind of poison, but just so unbelievably enthralling and... herself. Wild, like in the old stories. I think I knew a girl like that once. Hell, I think I almost married a girl like that once.