Dad took a picture of Toby in his current old doggie state
“An FAA guy showed me a picture he took of Toby 2 years ago. I like it. Toby wanted some of the photographers lunch.
Dad”
and so I sent him a lengthy email about my “feelings”:
“Dog is always shorter than I remember him to be.
I’m currently finishing John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars (I somehow accidentally sent a pre-ordered copy to myself in Virginia and also Scotland) and am very happy with it. I think I might be getting a cold so I’m probably taking it easy this weekend (Rose is in London for Diarmuid’s birthday, anyway. One of my classmate’s has got a comedy gig on Sunday, though). Tomorrow I have to work up the courage to venture out into the world and query the Edinburghians if any of them want me to make a documentary about them. Segue:
IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR SHORT DOCUMENTARIES, PLEASE, DO NOT HESITATE TO RUN THEM PAST ME.
It’s not that I don’t have ideas.. it’s just that I can’t seem to find anything good enough or interesting enough (and when I do find something good or interesting enough, they never want to be in a doc.) it’s very frustrating and anxiety inducing.
I want to find someone with old hands and a weird collection BUT HOW DO I DO THAT when I only know, like, three dozen people in this whole damn city, in this whole damn country, on this whole damn continent.
Current status: I miss Toby. This book is sad. Suffering from creative block.
Whining completed.
Miss ya.
Love
Amanda”
Amanda”
