1:25 PM, Tuesday, November 19th, 2019:
Literally none of that just happened. It's from delivering the deliverables last year for Part 1 and an event for our distributor Don and I went to... I just never showed it before and I forgot to get video for this trip downtown because I parked illegally and was running.
So there it is. What is a yearly rite of passage now (one that will continue in 2020, 2021 and 2022 at least - more on that soon)... physically driving a hard-drive to my distributor and realizing that's it! No more changes! It's over. It's a pretty strange feeling. I've mentioned it with construction before: you work so hard at something it becomes a routine and it feels like caring for a baby. And then it's done and it vanishes. With construction you usually have a finished product you can see and feel. Your kids can still visit... and of course you can SEE your movie online or whatever... but the magic in movie making is that ability to fundamentally CHANGE IT at will. What it is at the end of the day could be drastically different by the end. When it's "done" you still kind of want to tinker and you have ZERO ability to. I mean, unless you're George Lucas. With your kids you can still talk to them, still help them once they're gone. It's not daily, but there's still something there. Same with maintaining construction.
But a movie? Whew. You let it go and then you get HOUNDED. You get JUDGED. All performance is like that: people have an incessant need to TELL YOU HOW GOOD OR BAD YOU ARE. It's hard. It hurts. It's awful.
And as an artist, I do it every, fucking, day. The Journey is a constant opening of my soul to complete strangers that will use it against me, say awful shit to me, and some? Will be wonderful and appreciate it. I like those people. I like the critics too, but the art of the critique seems to be lost these days. Welcome to internet culture.
But for now, I relax. It'll be up before I know it and I can finally share everything that's happened. Whew.