July 9th, 1:06 am EST
I’m on California time, and can’t sleep– although I think I’ll be able to make a go of it soon. I’m crashing at Greg’s, in a pull-out in the living room. Wil from Horroryearbook.com is in the room just off the living room– a dining room, I guess you’d call it, because it’s near the kitchen, but there’s not much of a table, just a pull-out. We share the bathroom, which has no toilet paper, and the cats, which don’t need any. On the way home from the airport, Greg took me to the FX shop, a basement just off a strip-mall parking lot– the kind of place radicals used to make bombs in the 60s. I met Rod, who’s doing incredible things. I saw the cannibal costumes and a couple of head casts, and the knife that I’ll use to kill myself on Saturday. Now I need to rewrite a mini-schpiel for the movie. Greg asked me today if I was off-book. Gulp!