Yeah, hey. Hey. Hi. I'm back. I'm not even going to ask if you missed me because from your tears of joy I can see the answer already. Thanks for being so patient with me; first I take a long break then I almost immediately go away again.
Well, a big part of the reason I went away to SXSW was to pimp the forum and to get some ideas about how to make it grow. Because we be broke. Because we make no money on the site. Because we actually pay to keep it going. Because that's no kinda business model, I don't need to tell you. So until we figure things out, go buy some 3WA loot to help us keep the site running. I got a mug my damn self and the coffee tastes sweeter. I also hear that when you use our mouse pad your computer never crashes and if you wear our t-shirts all the sexy people in the word want to sleep with you while to the creepy people you suddenly appear invisible. That's what I hear.
So a lot has happened since I last wrote, but other people have recapped the week better. So I'll just write some impressions and thoughts, rather than trying to give you a Blow-By-Blow of the week or so. (Because really, that's private and just between me and your mom.)
There was a flight with laptops and diet coke and work. My MP3 player. Ludacris and Xzhibit annoying our fellow passengers. There was a rental car with backwards-cranking windows and a rudely-turned-down insurance plan. ("No!") There were nice people who put me up in built-on rooms with slightly broken beds and loud alarms and no curtains so all of Austin got to see you change and a dangerous cement outcropping right below your head and a vibrating chair and beer left untouched in the fridge since we were at bars until 3 am every night anyway. There was the air of sadness at the panels due to the Internet jobs going bye bye. There was my panel for which I felt totally unqualified that actually went well. There was the Salon forum moderator that apparently wanted her some stee. (Kim's right, I do look like a scary stalker in that photo. Man.) There were goddamn awesome people like Wing and Kim and Omar and Allison, Chris and Michelle and Becca and Ray and other great people who made the week comfortable and fun as hell. There was a crazy rainstorm the likes of which I've never seen. There was a panel at which I lasted ten minutes, most of the time spent writing notes and then an hour spent making fun of the speakers afterwards. There was a mountain lookout at dusk. There were movies like "Helicopter" and "Scratch" and "Bartleby," all of which I will remember for very different reasons. There was happiness and excitement and fun. There was some uncomfortableness. That happens. There was Wing's panel and Pamie's panel, both of which were very good. There was the Platinum Lounge once again and Shiner and no free cigarettes but plenty smoked anyway. There were cops and people getting angry and ducking out on paying bills. There were old paper journals read aloud. There were serious conversations and there were hours of Snoopolutions. There was the stalking of two women I've worked with out here who were speaking at Film. There was no Janeane. There were no good parties. But there was "Coven" and a drunk Mark and lost Mike. They made Ray very mad and sent him into a shame spiral. We're still unclear why.
There was a very weird Rip Torn and Jeffrey Tambour. There was the massive Harry Knowles and the annoying Eric Shaeffer and the geeky John Pierson. There were more movies about Yard Sales and Karoake and Vermont State Troopers. There was booze. Lots of booze. There was some food. There was laughter. There was lots of laughter. I learned a lot about myself, about the Internet, about film, about Austin, about others. And I learned that no matter how scared I might be to fly, there is always someone who's more scared.
Then there were naps. There was tons of mail and lots of checking in on websites I'd learned about at the festival. There was Weezer. There were metal detectors and lost personal items and expensive drinks. There was a bad opening band. There was jockeying for position so the short in the group could see. There was the band. There were the songs we wanted to hear, that they never play. There was jumping and dancing and singing and clapping and yelling and smiling. Then there was anger and confusion. Bewilderment. Trying not to laugh. There was feel-better champagne. Oh, and beer. Yeah. That too. And pizza. And there were errands. There was my obsession with suction-cup shower items. There was purchasing of said items. There were jokes. There was work not done in favor of desperately trying to solve a computer problem. There was the total knowledge the whole time that I was wasting time and furthermore would never solve the problem. There was giving up. There was a drunk girl and annoyances and passing out. There might have been some mocking. There was a digital camera. There was a note. Then there was work done and work avoided and donuts and coffee and comedy and The Sopranos where the sound was one second off for some fucking reason. Thus, there was yelling and throwing things and near tears and calling HBO bad names. There was staying up late for no reason.
Then, there was Monday morning.
And now there are crazy-loud co-workers and Tool played on ten to cover and someone knocking over my Homies when I leave every night and Diet Cokes and forums and work and my hands hurt and now it's 5:30 and you are officially up to date.
Oh, and also, you should go read my Temptation Island interview. I talked to girl hos Britt and Elizabeth. They apparently read my recaps and loved them and contacted me. They have also invited me to come hang out with them and some of the other TI crew when they fly out to LA to visit in a couple weeks. I know, it kills you, doesn't it? I know.
So much for your moment of prayer.
God's not at home.
There is no there there.
Lost in the stars.
That's what you are.
Left here on your own.
You can only hope to live on this earth.
This here is it, for all it's worth.
Nothing else awaits you.
No second birth.
No starry crown.
For an un-believer like you,
there's not much they can do.
It would turn you away.
Though I hate to see you surrender,
you need to surrender.
We must find you a way to
look up from your life.
Up from your life.
Look on up from your life.
Look up from your life.
There's a river running under your feet.
Under this house.
Under this street.
Straight from the heart.
Ancient and sweet.
On its way back home.
Even in the middle of your sadness.
The everyday madness.
The ongoing game.
Even when you can't find a reason.
Still there is a reason.
You don't need to name it.
Look on up.
Look up from your life.
Only for a minute.
To find yourself in it.
To wait by the stream.
To drop out of your dream.
Look on up.
Look up from your life… speaking of which. There's a river running under my feet! What the... oh, Calista's peeing on set again. Dammit, woman!