I’m in Western PA for a few days filming for the second principal shooting phase for Ignis Fatuus. Not concentrating very well, since I learned on the drive up that what we thought was my son’s seasonal allergies and lingering gunk from the flu is actually atypical ("walking") pneumonia. So, I’m freaking out a bit, but my wife is all laid back about it and says things are fine and I should keep going. And my mother in law is there visiting coincidently, so it’s not like she’s stuck alone with super sick kid. Still, just hearing his voice on the phone in that state pretty much tore my heart out. This movie better be pretty goddamn amazing for all the trouble I’m putting everyone through.

First things first, the accent. I’m in and around Connellsville and West Newton, south of Pittsburgh. Land of Iron City beer and calling people “y’uns” or “yinz” (as opposed to, say, “y’all” or “you guys.”) There’s a roundness in the pronunciation of “O” that warms my heart. I’ve been in the South for so long, I’m sort of used to the accents there. There must be dozen variants just in South Carolina ranging in tones from resonant and sing-songy to so grating that I want to put the speaker out of their obvious misery. It’s been almost twenty years since I've been back to where generations of both side of my family have lived, and just walking into this little pub and hearing the voices was like putting on slippers.

And once in this pub, and once I had my Iron City, I ordered a salad because dammit a true and proper salad really ought to have pickled eggs on it. And there they were, in all their purple glory. These are my people. 

First thing in the morning I start filming day one from the train. And once I’m wrapped all my days here, I’m going to go home and pickle a batch of eggs for my boy to help him recuperate with some yinzer remedies.