Brain drop.

So, yes, this past summer, my hard drives died, and now all my work from my life is missing. It sucks. But it doesn't make my stomach drop in the same way that it does every time I put my hand in my front left pocket, because, up until about two weeks ago, I had a little pink moleskine notebook in there full of ideas and doodles. About two weeks ago it disappeared. Not only have I lost all of my ideas, but I know they're out there somewhere. It has my phone number in it, but it's been a couple of weeks, so I am finally conceding it, and putting a new notebook in my pocket. I'm sadder about it, though, than I have been about anything in a long time. I feel like I lost a part of my brain. I feel like some stranger somewhere probably has a part of my brain.

Proof that every worthwhile director scores his or her own films.

In the form of a list:

Robert Rodriguez
John Carpenter
Herschell Gordon Lewis