Well, that was a wee bit freaky — I think I completely overdid it out in the blazing sun yesterday, working on my gardens and then grocery shopping at a couple of places in my bakey, un-air-conditioned car. By 2 p.m. I was feeling like total collapse, but I propped myself up on the couch and watched Flashdance (which I'd never seen and was hoping would be a positive surprise, like Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, but which instead turned out to be pretty awful) and Ninja Resurrection, which was also awful and which I was reviewing for a freelance gig. By the time I finished the review, it was 8 p.m. and just sitting upright was a huge and painful effort. So I went to bed with a book and was unconscious with the light on 15 minutes later. Cass had to come in and pry my sweaty clothes off. And then I slept for 12 hours. Normally if I go to bed before midnight I feel like I was cheated out of an evening, so in this case, I'm just kind of baffled. And still weary, which is bad, since this is going to be a week of late nights and long days, with two interviews, two night screenings, and then a weekend full of parties. Than which there are worse things, but I just kinda want to go back to bed.

At least I finally managed to finish the new David Sedaris book over the weekend — I've been poking listlessly at it for three weeks now, neither finishing it nor starting anything else. With that out of the way I was able to tear through David Schwartz's Superpowers, another pop novel about superheroes, à la Soon I Will Be Invincible. In this case, five young people suddenly gain powers (in early 2001) and have to decide what to do with them. It was three-fourths a really entertaining speculative novel, and then in the final quarter, Sept. 11 rolls around, and instead of, you know, doing anything, the heroes basically all curl up into little balls of dysfunctional angst. The super-strong one kills a Muslim civilian in anger, the psychic one goes nearly catatonic and winds up institutionalized, the flying one flies around crying for her mother who died in the attack — it's almost impossibly maudlin and unfulfilling. And it wallows, and wallows, and wallows. I came out of it completely baffled about what the point was. I was thinking of reviewing it, but I may just give it a pass. It's already going to be a crowded week.

I'm-a feelin': tired

Okay, this is how out of it I am… I got to work and found out I'd missed the Monday morning conference call because I completely forgot about it.

The same planning conference call we have every week. EVERY FREAKIN' WEEK for I don't know how many years now. And I just… forgot.

I need a nap.

I've been having focus problems today, thanks to the tired and to all the stuff I have to do.

Tomorrow will not be about focusing so much as not going crazy with the sheer amount of crack:

10 a.m. Early IMAX screening of The Dark Knight with the whole A.V. Club crowd. IMAX at 10 a.m. will wake you up better than coffee, yo.

1 p.m. We taste-test magic flavor berries, and various items presumably altered by magic flavor berries.

3 p.m. Interview with the Luna Brothers, the guys behind my current favorite comic book, The Sword. (First trade collection out last Wednesday. Get on it, comics fans.)

7 p.m. Critics' screening of Hellboy II: The Golden Army.

That's so much squee in one day that I expect to be utterly squeed out by midday at the latest. My job rocks.

Oh yeah, and somewhere in there I need to do eight hours of work. I'll get right on that.

I'm-a feelin': bouncy