Last night was my last official night here at Sundance (I fly out at midnight tonight). Needless to say, it was a long friggin' night. First I attended the Gen Art/Delta party where they announced the winner of their shorts contest (post and gallery coming soon). Next, James met me for the Funny Games party. Michael Pitt was the only one from the cast who was there, and while I smoked a cig outside with him and his girlfriend/date, I did not snap a picture. You try watching the Funny Games trailer on big-screen monitors for two hours, and then see how comfortable you are around this guy. He was cool, though, and from what I've heard, the movie was great.

From that party, I made my way back to the hotel where I met a number of internet writers at the pub for one last round of drinks before we all part our separate ways to random parts of the country. There was: Scott Weinberg (Cinematical), Kim Voynar (Cinematical), Devon Faraci (CHUD), Ryan Rotten (Shock Till You Drop), Peter Sciretta (Slashfilm), Neil Miller (Film School Rejects) and Erik Childress (Critic Watch, eFilmCritic). We talked movies, we made fun of this British dude who felt the need to play his guitar, while needy girls sat there and sang along. We talked more movies. And we laughed ... and laughed ... and laughed. At one point, as the bar was closing, Morgan Spurlock ran in to grab a drink after introducing his film at a screening somewhere. Funny thing was, we had just finished a lengthy conversation about his Osama doc. But these things happen.

Once we left there, our Cinematical crew hunkered down in one hotel room and talked movies till the wee hours of the morning. That's what's so great about being here: You'd think, after watching 20 or so movies in a week, all of us would be sick and tired of chatting about them. But we'll never get to that point. For us, it's an addiction. Cinema is our heroin. And this festival is our summer camp street corner dealer in the puffy jacket.

Thanks Peter for the proper analogy. I need sleep.