Six months ago I attended an irritatingly avant-garde, interactive performance of Macbeth—and let’s just say the Cursed Play duly extended its curse to me. I jostled everything in your exoskeleton that you don't want to jostle--and since then nearly everything in my life but my address has changed. Even my haircolor.
I’m back up and running, finally. Soon I'll post something more substantive here again, as well as some links to some of my other onions. And if you have time today, please stop by the panel on documentary film criticism that I am speaking on, along with a host of estimable others. Here's the New Yorker's Richard Brody's take on it.
See you on the flip-flop, dolls.