Dad and I spent the day together driving to MN for a weeklong fishing trip. We did not fight. He slept a little. Some deep conversations about the state of the entertainment industry. (We’re not hopeful.) Dad has his finger on the pulse of the hollywood scene. He knows who is divorcing who and who should be starring in what, when, etc. It’s endearing and creepy.
I quietly missed people. That’s a thing I do a lot. No one wants to hear my shit. And I don’t want to tell. It’s less interesting than whether or not the chick who played Hermione should start considering theater more before she is rightfully considered an “A” actress.
The lake here in MN is underwhelming. I’m looking forward to being proven wrong. Maybe I’m just tired from the drive. I smell. There are six men in this cabin. There will be smells. Fires have been started with less.
I could give two shits about fishing.
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