We’ve met so many amazing people and seen so many interesting places on this continent, I think back and it seems a little surreal to have made such an odd, fascinating, arduous journey.  Williston North Dakota.  Wetaskiwin, Alberta.  Erie Pennsylvania.  Vegas.  Homeless shelters.  Angola State Penitentiary.  Magicians.  I’ll rattle on as we recount the adventure and get ready to release the film.  We’ll have pictures and videos and blog posts and communities and message boards and Tweets and favorite links and all things public speaking…. and, of course, at some point soon, the film itself.

Without going too far with the metaphor, but what the heck, it’s a tiny little film blog no one’s really reading – you know, you get the idea for a film, you date it a little bit, take it out to lunch, then a nice dinner, introduce it to your friends, bring it to a party where you get drunk together and make out in front of everyone which is embarrassing and electric at the same time, eat breakfast the next morning in your underwear and wonder what just happened, trying not to smile at each other…try to be cool about everything but still have butterflies zipping around when it walks into the room… next thing you know, it moves into your house, has keys made, you look for a ring, set a date, tell your friends, it’s happening.  February 24 2008.  Club contest in Great Falls Montana.  Screw it.  Let’s do this. Let’s get married.

And then you look up two years later, you’ve got a kid on the way, you’ve put on 20 pounds, your friends never see you anymore, you can’t remember a life of parties and anything remotely glamorous or civilized, every topic seems to come back to the child on the way or the pitfalls of having a mortgage in this difficult economy…. you know,  you’re married now.  It’s fun and totally worth it and absolutely just amazing… right?  Yes.  We love each other.  I get it.  I’ll pick up milk and HDV tape and get plane tickets to Provo and some Windex.  Now leave me alone so I can watch SportsCenter in peace for a minute before getting 5 hours of restless sleep thinking about why the hell I’m going to film in a maximum security prison in Louisiana.  I’m nuts.  This was a ridiculous idea after all.  We’ll get a lawyer’s phone number and Google “how to divorce a terrible no good insane life project”, just for basic background information.  It’s a responsible thing to do.  Just in case.

And then right about you’re going to email a psychotic family law attorney, and damn I’m not sure if I was ready for this or we were right for each other, or the way it slurps its soup is starting to bother me and make me think hideous thoughts about my fellow man, it gives you a Lashunda Rundles, or a great interview with Rich Hopkins, or a fantastic set of shots in Calgary, or a hilarious situation with a Martin Presse, and the rush comes back.  Yes.  We were meant to be together.  It’s one life we lead, and something has to take the journey with us, and it’s looking pretty good goddamnit.  It’s been working out and looking fit and vibrant and happy and I’ve just not been paying attention, really.  Damn, I love this thing.  Ok, SpeakEasy, that 30 year mortgage?  Screw it.  Let’s do this.

And now we’re in the waiting room.  The idea, the project we’re married to, is gonna be born soon.  It may take a while to be shown to strangers and romper rooms, yet we’ve interviewed with day care and pre K already…and it may take longer than expected to walk on its own and stop throwing mashed peas across the room…but, yeah, it’s happening. 4 weeks away probably, from a locked film being sent off to film festivals and for the marketing and distribution part to begin.  Maybe we’ll make some money and acclaim- maybe it will get into Stanford or be a cello prodigy or just some skate rat stoner punk I’ll tell to get off my lawn and leave us alone.  Maybe it will be this boring yet peaceful soul, a steady corporate employee, or a tortured artist living on heroin and Skittles in Brooklyn somewhere, working on its next piece of senseless bizarre performance art piece about potatoes.  But it’s going to be something.  We’re here. Too late now.

Screw it.  Let’s do this.

So for now… peace out.  It’s all good.

Monday?  PUSH!!!!!!

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