Friday, 05 April 2002 | Lens cap

I wandered into the lobby just after watching "Journeys with George," a documentary about the Bush campaign from the perspective of a correspondent in the Bush press corps. There I found Alexandra Pelosi standing near the middle of the room surrounded by a small cluster of people asking her questions and giving her feedback. The absurd thing about it was that while they spoke, both Pelosi and the audience members filmed each other with hand-held cameras; the former correspondent was reflecting her paparazzi like a mirror. I pulled out my camera and took a few pictures of the exchange, and as I looked through the viewfinder, I heard a stranger say in my ear, "This is so postmodern."

There are a few familiar faces at the festival, people I recognize from school and bars and The Karate Kid, but most are new and remote. Tonight I had to escape the $2 cans of Diet Coke, the awkward standing in the middle of a sea of stylish black clothing, the giant camera bag pulling my right shoulder toward the center of the earth. So I'm home now. For a little while. I don't know why I'm not sleeping. Which reminds me: this morning, as I flung my legs over the edge of the bed, a lens cap fell off the mattress and rolled across the floor.