Good morning, friends!

It’s 6:30am as I’m sitting down to draft this. The sky is just starting to go from an inky dark blue to a dusky dawn blue, and the first tenacious birds are chirping. 

Dawn is not rosy. Wouldn’t you think dawn would be rosy? I think I always assumed. But it’s not, it’s blue. This is something I never noticed until I was in film school. I remember I was so pleased with myself the first time I wrote it into a script. 

The car pulls away into the blue light of dawn.

So pleased with myself, you guys. That was the last line of my thesis script. And we got it. We got dawn. We stole the scene very quickly, at the end of a long night of shooting. Here’s a link to the movie—you can scrub to 9:00 to see the blue light of dawn. (Or hey, watch the whole thing! I should just make it public already.)

I don’t generally choose to rise with the sun, but this morning I was awakened by a wicked headache and I finally decided to just get up. It officially takes two (2) whiskeys to wake me with a wicked headache. I’ve tested this theory on two occasions in the past couple of weeks, and YUP! two whiskeys. Even if I stop for tacos on the way home from the bar. Even if I drink a bunch of water when I get home. And eat a bowl of ice cream.

Wah wah.

I’m having a terrible time talking about the script I just finished. I’ve hung out with three, no, four industry friends recently, and there’s that, you know, the dreaded what are you working on? and then you’re supposed to sort of “pitch” your project. To your friend. Right there, on your hike or in the car or at the bar. Which, on the one hand, is really good practice. Like, if I can’t talk about the thing to my friend and make it sound like I LIKE IT, I’m in trouble, right?