Here's the truth. No matter how much gets accomplished, there's always more to do. That's the simultaneously irksome and inspiring aspect of the independent film scene, or at least covering the scene as a journalist.

After I parallel parked on the street outside my Atlanta apartment late last night, I promised myself to immediately plop down at the computer to begin the transcription process. Having just driven almost seven hours from Raleigh, NC, however, I reflected on my recent adventures. For the last three weeks, I've lived at stranger's houses, met celebrities in anti-climax, gone out drinking with filmmakers and film writers I wildly respect and been left at the end of it all amazed and priveleged and utterly confounded. In my mind, I drew character portraits of Robert Longstreet, Barlow Jacobs and Greta Gerwig; ran interviews with David Benioff, Danny Filson, Jon Bernthal, Aaron Hillis, Cullen Hoback, Dan Brawley and others; had an anonymous 'ja-ja journalism' style conversation about James Franco's Tribeca-premiered Good Time Max with a friend; met with Franco himself for a semi-depressing although humorous failure of an interview; and took notes for more than 20 traditional film reviews of works including John Sayles Honeydripper and Alex Holdridge's In Search of a Midnight Kiss among others. On top of that I'd caught up with Quiet City's director Aaron Katz and composer Keegan DeWitt; The Pipe's director Dan Brown; 27,000 Days mutli-hyphenate Naveen Singh and editor Jeremy Phillips; and, too much else for me to attempt to remember because my head hurts, and all that is meant to print these next two weeks.

Considering all this, last night when I got home, I did what any normal overwhelmed film journalist would do, I fed my cat and dog, took a shower and went to sleep, the Scarlett O'Hara mantra of "I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow," running through my mind. (Note: Not all film journalists would do that actually. In fact Aaron Hillis, who I only just parted from Saturday night, interviewed Noah Baumbach this morning and sent me the link to the transcript this evening. I shake my fist at his efficiency!)

This is all to say, I ask for your patience, because I hope to impart to you an image of what these three weeks meant, to pass along a bit of the enthusiasm and accompanying quiet sadness along the way, to craft for you elusive moments that were bigger than their time constraints, that were bigger than my understanding, that were flawed and odd and also full of wonder.

It's all in time.

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