It’s quite miserable. I mean, I’m not dying or anything, but at this point I’ve really had quite enough of the coughing and the runny nose and that awful snorking sound that comes with the post-nasal drip. I’m now into the crispy-eyeball, aching-joints phase, which means I’ll be getting better sooner rather than later. But still. Eeech.
Anyway. I’ve been pounding down the cold medication and the vitamin C, so hopefully I’ll be coherent enough by tomorrow night, when I’ll be playing host at this month’s WildSound Feedback Film Festival, down at the National Film Board of Canada’s offices at Richmond and John. Apparently someone thought I’d be a good fit.
I’m a better fit than Molly Shannon in “Year of the Dog“, anyway, I’ll tell you that. Not that Shannon isn’t amazingly good as a woman who loses her mind after she loses her dog … just that Mike White’s smug sensibility can’t accommodate a performance of such depth and feeling.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think my brain is dribbling out of my left nostril …