These days run away like horses over the hills...

...have to get back on the horse and get my plans back on schedule.

It's already the second month of the year and nothing I wanted to do has been done. I had planned to make at least one movie a day starting in 2007, but depression and boredom have taken up more disk space then my and video and audio files.

Talked to my brother Stan and he told me some more sad family news, my father, who now has no idea who he is or who any of my family members are, has now been placed in a home, just as his brother Alfred succumbed to congestive heart failure and is in intensive care. The hits just keep on coming!

I feel salmonella coursing through my body. I haven't had a solid bowel movement in over a month. Once a day I break out in an itchy rash that lasts about an hour. I found a new gray hair, in my nostril.

One of my numerous welcome home gifts was Allison Castle's, "The Stanley Kubrick Archives" book by Taschen. It's a monolith. It's beautiful. My back cracked lifting it up and setting it in my lap. I made it only up to "Dr. Strangelove" before I had to stop, close the book and take some ibuprofen.

I dreamt that Kubrick was about 25 years old and we were sitting in a booth at Coral Cafe and he'd been showing me a notebook he had purchased to document his thoughts.

"You can think of something, it's so intangible, then it needs to be filtered down into language and I have to rewrite it over and over again to take out any emotion or coloring, because... Can the words be trusted?" He said staring at me with his cold penetrating eyes under the arched eyebrows.

"Excuse me, but you're dead, right?"

"How can I be sure?"