No Fringecast. Sorry friends. When your life is split between working a fulltime job, writing projects that have been slathered in potential career boosting juice, keeping up with a mildly interesting blog, directing and producing a short film that has been called “the coolest Christian sex thriller short since, well, ever” (okay, so it hasn’t, but I think it would be cool if someone came along and gave it that label, since I’m positive I’d come up number one on Google for “cool Christian sex thriller short.” It’s my goal, really.)….take deep breath….and maintaining a long distance relationship that is both alternately incredible and heartbreaking–well, one just doesn’t keep a running total of everything one does without realizing that one is severely under budget and understaffed. Something’s gotta give.
So no Fringecast. For a couple of weeks. Consider this the hiatus before the podstorm. I’ve been making a few cosmetic and backend changes to the site, which I’ll continue to work on and tweak. I realized that I’ve got a wonderful archive of random articles ranging from political rants to pleadings with my toilet to serious discussions on breakfast cereal, and down the list of obscure and arcane ephemera that gives this site the kind of broad range you tend to see in killer storm systems. Which probably explains why Fringe doesn’t have a ton of traffic. I’ve been working on boosting it, slowly, by improving the code that runs the site, but it’s not an exact science. More like an indistinct glop of oatmeal.
I realized that I was supposed to write about how much I loved Day 2 of shooting, how if I were a superstar selling Day 2 Shoot as a product, I’d fully endorse it, put my face on the cereal box, and I’ll even do a radio interview with Ryan Seacrest if it’ll sell the thing. But I realized I’m really more of a “glass half empty” kind of person. When things are good, that’s like when you have just ordered a pint and it comes in all frothy and foamy, and the glass is nicely chilled, and it’s happy hour, so you get it for three bucks instead of four-fifty, and the television hasn’t been turned to the home shopping network yet by the ladies who sit and jaw and smoke Marlboro lights…good times, noodle salad. On the other hand, when things are bad, it’s like when your glass is down halfway or more, and you’re getting gloomy because you’re all by yourself and it’s a friggin’ pub, why did they put on Enrique Iglesias on the stereo and the cute server’s flirting with a guy half your weight and twice your height, with hair like a Mediterranean demi-god, whilst you’re treasuring the wisps floating around your head like cirrus clouds illuminated by the moon, and you know that the night’s only going to get lonelier because there’s nothing more lonely than drinking alone. That’s the kind of guy I am. Or at least, pretend to be on Fringe.
I’d rather talk about how the pint is almost gone, which makes me sad. But then I’m given a boost, knowing that the pint can be refilled when it’s all gone, which gives me impetus to put my best lips forward, throw the glass back, and motion to the bartender.
“‘nother plain, if you would.”
Because there’s nothing quite so golden and cheery as a full glass of Guinness. But I’d rather drink the pint, not talk about it.
Which is why I’m not going to talk about how golden and brilliant Day 2 Shoot was. Just accept it and move on.
So no Fringecast. I’m kind of bummed about it. I’ve had the Fringecast site in a state of semi-readiness for a month now, but time, as the first paragraph alluded to, has been quite scarce. I will trust these barely cohesive missives will suffice until such time as you can load up iTunes with a new batch of 402 goodness.
In the meantime, I’ve got a Guinness that needs to be relocated from the glass to my stomach. Cheers!
Update: My Google Dream has been made manifest.