Why did I have to spend my formative years reading Spider Man and not Transmetropolitan?

Who do I have to kill to get some free time around here? There’s so much going on and I’m stuck with this “Bart of Darkness” vibe. TIFF is in full swing this week. A city that’s practically humming with the excitement of hosting a world scale event. So many films from seasoned directors, starring big name actors, many of whom are walking the red carpet or being anonymously spotted in Starbucks and the like (okay, minor rant incoming. What’s the deal with celebrities drinking base level shitty coffee like Starbucks? You’re rich, you have PAs and whatnot who can get you only the finest things. Why stoop to wretched chains instead of having exquisite everything all the time? Is it a fear of the unknown? The reliability of something mediocre while you’re abroad? I don’t understand and, unlikely to ever be in a place where I could empathise, I probably never will).

Small independent flicks in search of distribution are fun, risky choices and everyone knows a friend or family member who can get them a few free tickets. Midnight Madness always has a selection of the absurd, macabre or straight up insane, with crowds who really get into it. The streets are lit with excitement. Businesses doing large scale promotion or giving out freebies, performances and displays, food tastings. It’s a fun time to be downtown and a cool festival to get stuck into. My friend got me a ticket to the premiere of Black Mirror season 3 episodes tonight and I’m downright psyched.

Of course, I’m bound in a trap of my own making. With my big annual festival, JFL42 (Toronto’s Just For Laughs) only a few weeks away, it’s bittersweet. Now that I’ve come off my self-imposed restrictions à la Tough Mudder training, I’m ready to go out and be social. I want to have drinks with friends I haven’t seen in too long, I’d love to line up a date or two and see if there’s anyone out there I’d enjoy connecting with. Hell, I’d love to nosedive into TIFF and inhale everything the festival has to offer.

On the other hand, I’ve got a backlog of Air Bud Pawdcast episodes to record, which means no time to do anything else. I have one or two spare nights over the next ten or so days. The rest gets lovingly devoted to my little creative endeavour. Thing is, the podcast is going really well. Episode seven, my current edit project, marks the first appearance of a guest. He’s a fucking brilliant guest too. He perfectly picks times to interject and it’s always something relevant or funny. His laugh is like pure joy distilled into an exultation. Having an newcomer’s perspective into the inherent madness of our project adds a refreshing layer to our routine, eliciting a special something from what was already an enjoyable undertaking. Having already recorded the next few episodes, I’m excited to share what we’ve been working on. The Pawdcast is going fantastically and for something that’s a dumb side project, it’s o’erlept my expectations.

That’s the tension. Much as I love what I’m doing, it’s hard not to feel chained to my desk. It looks so sunny outside, but I’m duty bound to stay inside and deliver on my obligation.

Stupid Great Power/Great Responsibility mantra.

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