Gah /Aaaah

It's 4:30 in the morning and I'm sitting on the front porch of a lovely house.

Four others are asleep inside for another hour.

Across the street is the open field of the old Saratoga Springs race track.

Quiet, except for the hum of tires pounding highway 87 in the near distance, the occasional rustle of a leaf as it rolls down the asphalt, and a wind chime down the block.

Did I mention it's 35 degrees?

There are 19 short films in the can so far from this show, and a few more to be digitized, only a few of which I feel I have the right to post.

How can I sell folks on the idea that the buzz from even the smallest films can be generated with the footage posted on a vlog? How to grow the balls necessary to make the pitch? To whom - exactly - should the pitch be made? What to do with the word of mouth?

Sigh.

I will type here in the cold until I've had enough nicotine or my hands cease functioning in the cold. Whichever comes first.

My feet are bare because I prefer sitting in the lotus position to type; they are warm in the crooks of the knees.

After two 17-hour days working nights last week, we are all testy and well over the honeymoon. Sill, we make the effort to be pleasant to one another and work together. Extreme courtesy and willingness to help are part of most modern film cultures. When half the departments are heaving with frustration, the other half take pains to bolster our spirits. Rich.

We believe in this film and in our director and that sustains us through a lot.

Nothing can sustain typing much longer in the cold. Fingertips numb.

Later.