http://www.fringeblog.com The fringe is where the real resides, where substance and style are made one. Sat, 11 Feb 2012 00:46:54 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0.1 http://www.fringeblog.com/2005/03/the-day-after-the-day-after/ http://www.fringeblog.com/2005/03/the-day-after-the-day-after/#comments Tue, 29 Mar 2005 17:50:29 +0000 jelewis8 http://www.fringeblog.com/2005/03/the-day-after-the-day-after/ The day after Easter has always seemed like an anti-climactic day for most people, especially if they fail to realize the significance of the Resurrection. I suppose it’s why I didn’t post anything yesterday–just couldn’t get up the punchiness after such a joyous remembrance of our saving grace. It’s a bit like anticipating being in a massive automobile accident, only to realize that you didn’t have your glasses on, and the oncoming car was in the right lane after all.
Question is, were you in the left lane?
Most people don’t get sentimental about Easter. I certainly don’t. But it’s funny the people you see or hear about who celebrate, in their own ways. Like the lesbian who suggested drinking Rolling Rock beer at twelve midnight to my two compadres in honour of our Lord rising and encouraging the stone that closed off His tomb to gather no moss. That came out of left field, but it seems a fantastic way in. I mean, you’re at a bar, he or she’s at the same bar, you’re both drinking beer. To have the conversation turn on such a simple and mundane beer title…stranger things have happened, but not nearly as cool, or fraught with potential.
I spent Easter inside and finalizing Zero Sum, hitting the evening church service to avoid the crowds and extra parents, and generally being anxious about how ZS would turn out. I started noticing strange correlation between the part of the day I spent editing and how much antipathy or enthusiasm I felt for the film. Morning found me despondent and moody, disliking my choices of shots, grimacing in auditory agony over a perceived sound sync problem. Evening would roll around, and somehow, the doomed film from the morning turned into a near Rembrandt, where those same problems are justified by the tone of the story, the loving caress the soundtrack places at just the right moment to really punch the scene home. Who knows what it means…?
Now that it is officially “done”, I’m hoping life will return to a somewhat more normal state. Whatever that means. I’m a closet compulsive without the obsessive, so if there’s not one thing, it’s another. Most likely, it will entail getting my affairs “in order” in preparation for my move to Los Angeles in August. Scary stuff. It’s almost like death, in that I’m leaving behind all my friends here and going on to a bright and shiny place. Hmmm…but is it heaven or hell you refer to, you ask.
Good question.
I never offered up a recounting of my week-long trip out there. So tomorrow? Yes. Tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m actually going to get some work–legitimate, money-earning work done. Hey, someone’s gotta do it.

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