Introduction
Charlie Kaufman Is My Doppelgänger or Why I Want to Blow My Fucking Brains Out
Everything I touch is fucked. No, seriously. I could take a piece of gold and, with enough effort and influence, turn it into a shiny pile of bona fide chicken shit. I have been aware of this sad fact for over 40 years, yet for some reason I continue to touch stuff and fuck it up. This is the curse of Lloyd Kaufman. Let me give you an example of why I want to blow my fucking brains out.
A few short weeks ago, I rearranged my schedule to attend Spain's prestigious Sitges International Film Festival. I love Sitges, and was especially inclined to go because they were presenting me with a lifetime achievement award. My trip to Rio was abandoned and ...
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