Count a Monte Cristo...

There is only one word for my condition today... 'knackered'. My eyes are so dark I am starting to resemble a raccoon. Its a full time job to constantly go to screenings, enduring good and bad films all day, try to hunt down some food, go to the parties and try and make intelligent conversation, getting back in the early hours, sleeping and then getting up and doing it again. Its lost its novelty. I truly understand the meaning of the word 'junket'.

I've got a breakfast to go to this morning with the American Writers Guild so I get up really early and decide to walk, its a nice day so why not? To get there I take a diversion and wind through the backroads of Beverly HIlls to take a look at the houses - they are magnificent, huge structures. It's lifestyles of the rich and famous and its smells like... shit. This time of the morning there are Gucci tracksuited clad hi-lifers walking all kinds of canine exotica. The combination goes like this - You either need a dog crossed with a guinea pig wearing a diamond encrusted saddle, or... walk one of these rodent jockeys along with another dog the size of a canadian brown bear, or... a 'shrapnel' of around 5 rodent jockeys (I'm presuming the collective for these chihuahua gerbils would be 'shrapnel'? - correct me if I am wrong). Either way, this is Beverly Hills, so whatever you do - don't entertain the idea of poop-scooping (unless you have a handy home-help to do it for you).

This time of the morning, and down-wind - the roads smell like dog-shit. I am presuming that as the clock strikes 8 that there is a community poop-scooping division that scurry out from driveways and do it for you so that your manicured hands do not have to deal with it? Even the homeless guys have been draped in Armani in order to 'fit in'.

At the breakfast I get to meet some more australian film makers that are here with an animation. Last night I missed the most important block of films that I should have seen because I just couldn't keep walking any more. I had walked 2 miles to the hard rock cafe to grab some food and just couldn't make it the 2 miles back for the late show. Today I am determined to see all the films... maybe...

As we leave the breakfast, the festival organisers hand me a 'goody back' for the filmmakers. Its here that I discover the main difference between this festival and the last. At the last festival my goody bag was given away to someone who had nothing to do with the films, I never got it back - but I know it contained a DVD, a pack of cards and some film postcards so I didn't lose any sleep... Here it's different. Here I get given a bag for me... and one for my kids? Now, that's service...

At the hotel I empty the bag and it feels like I have been on a looting spree at rodeo drive - Sprawled across the bed are t-shirts, baseball cap, luxury skin care products, chocolates, cologne, a watch... and two monte cristo cigars.