It’s the first week of the 43rd Annual San Francisco Film Festival, so I haven’t seen much of Michael. So far I’ve seen only two films. Wisconsin Death Trip, which I liked, and Peau d’homme couer de bete, which I did not care for.

We went to the opening night party on Thursday night. Michael had to film that evening, and he called from KQED just before heading out. I walked down the hill to the Regency Ballroom, which had the usual floodlights and Will Call table.

For the first forty-five minutes I wandered around the huge, dark ballroom, sampling the food at various tables — pungent soft white cheese spread on nutty bread, Calistoga berry juice, handrolls with peanut sauce, chocolate crepes, Aidelle’s sausage…. The music was very good, but loud. When I found Michael standing and talking to a couple, I could barely make out what anyone was saying. Barring a dance club, I’ve never understood the point of gathering large numbers of people in a room and then blasting them with music so it’s impossible for anyone to communicate without getting a sore throat. Eventually, we moved upstairs to a quieter second floor lobby nerar tall open windows that let in fresh air. We all talked about ghost stories, movies, what we loved and what we hated, and ate sorbet until they turned on the lights and send a security guard over to kick us out.

Outside on the sidewalk, the conversations continued. I talked to a thin, bearded older man who either knew me from a previous festival or was pretending to know me from a previous festival. He told me he spoke seven languages and had travelled all over Europe.

At the time, Michael was co-hosting a show on independent film at KQED. The result was, as his partner, I found myself in more conversations than usual at film events. Michael had some level of facial recognition from being on television, and I still suspect some hungry filmmakers were, quite understandably, trying to network with him through me.

I liked the book Wisconsin Death Trip was based on, so it’s no surprise I liked the movie. Of Peau d’homme couer de bete I have absolutely no memory. Who knows? If I saw it now, I might like it.