Last night, I saw a film that perfectly embodied, in my mind, many of the attitudes that I hold in real life. It was a film entitled How to Kill Your Neighbor's Dog. Basically, it follows the troubles of Peter McGowan, an L.A. playwright and novelist as he struggles to put together his first big hit in a long time. Among his difficulties are periodic insomnia ("It comes about four times a year, and lasts three months each time"), a stalker who happens to be his doppelganger, a neighbor with a young daughter who adopts Peter and his wife as her babysitters, and of course the titular obnoxious late night barking dog. I saw many of my own attitudes reflected in Peter's caustic musings on life in general, and dogs in specific. The best exchange comes when he is being interviewed by a snotty morning-show personality. ("Your new novel is entitled "How To Kill Your Neighbor's Dog?" Could you tell us what it's about?" "Basically it's a practical guide to suburban terrorism." "But what if somebody actually takes the advice in your book, and uses it to...you know...kill their neighbor's dog?" "Well...I mean really...What are you gonna' do?") As I say, this film was great fun for me, a lifelong hater of all things canine and barking. Kenneth Brannaugh turns in a clever performance as Peter, so it gets my approval. For what it's worth. Check it out.

What else is happening, you ask? Nothing. I'm bloody sick, and it pisses the hell out of me. So, that's that.