11 March 2005 (yesterday) (tomorrow)

I talked at length with Lynn.  It turns out she's part Norwegian and speaks the language even though her last name is Cassaniti.  She told me about burying her husband in the Green River cemetery in The Springs (the 'poor man's Hamptons'), and how she had to fight for a plot for him and herself.   She also talked about Norway a bit; apparently they struck oil and the country is doing quite well.  When she talked about driving up the fjords with her late husband, her eyes sparkled.

Lynn likes the city in the winter.  She says it's cozy, there's no need to drive or dig out and there's plenty to do indoors.  We both bitched about the job but it really wasn't that bad tonight.

Wwhen I walked out of the Post Factory's high-rise, it was sleeting.  I hailed a cab and had a really pleasant chat about filmmaking, art and poetry.  I've Been Looking Through This Screen Since 1975, said my driver.