I just read an interview with Roger Ebert. Surgeries have finally removed his cancer, but left him unable to eat or drink. Or talk. He called it a gift from the gods – all his desires had been replaced by all his memories of satiety.

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No doubt the year ahead will be no less interesting than the year behind.  For good or bad, the universe sorta works that way.  I suppose it’s also true that the future wants to (as it always has) come rushing toward us like a puppy, head over heels, panting for love, yapping for attention and peeing all over itself (and us) from the pure joy of its arrival.

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When production finances get squeezed, it's easy to consider shooting the same show for less.  Instead of, say, three pages a day, you start planning to cram in six or seven or ten.  Of course it can be done; you can work harder, shoot smarter....

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