For the first time in a while, I don’t have anyone to talk to in the pages of NOW — though I refuse to see that as a problem, since I’ve been going full-tilt since March and could use a couple of quiet weeks, if we’re being honest.

(I’m almost happy that Cannes wasn’t in the cards this year, because I’d be useless.)

((Oh, who am I kidding? I’d totally have gone. You sleep on the plane, after you get where you’re going you take off your shoes and socks and make fists with your toes on the rug, and you’re good for another two weeks, easy.))

Anyway, this week is pretty quiet. Some reviews, which we’ll get to tomorrow, and my contribution to the paper’s Inside Out coverage, a review of Thom Fitzgerald’s “Cloudburst“. And a nap.