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My, how you little kings and queens have been patient. I am, of course, speaking to you as if you really exist. Delusional, I’m aware, but please let me have this, it is kind of the point of this whole enterprise in the first place.
I’ve been so busy doing stand up that I have not had the free time to pay more attention to this little corner of the web I’ve dug out for myself. The balance of both used to be better maintained, due to the irregularity of my chances for stage time. I now get to perform about three or four times a week, and with the rise of one self fulfilling prophecy comes the decline of another. Getting better at it has been priority number one, but the glass ceiling of the world of stand up is very visible to someone in my position. I have every intention to penetrate it with extreme prejudice, but I’ll only be able to shatter through it if I have experience running head first into other seemingly impenetrable surfaces and surviving.
Hence why I’m back.
The Placeholder is still my ‘brand’, if you must call it that. I like to think of it more as the thesis statement for the whole shit-storm of stuff I have made and/or plan to make in the near future. Oh, the near future. So near, it barely seems like the future at all.
The need for The Placeholder in my life is nothing I really feel like having to justify or explain too much anymore, as you’ve probably deduced. I used to, but I’ve learned that there’s no point to that, really. It exists because it has to, and it is what it needs to be. In the past few months it has not needed to be very much, apparently, but that does not mean it has gone anywhere far from my thoughts. All healthy relationships see the couples take some time apart so they can come back together with some interesting stories to share. If they don’t, it always ends the same way. One day the wife just snaps and bashes her husbands head in with the toaster oven. Since I need my toaster oven, a little break was best for both of us.
I produced two shows under the banner of The Placeholder Show in late February and early March. They debuted to minimal crowds and critical obscurity. There have been requests for more by the curious and masochistic, and it will indeed return soon, if only to continue the masturbatory practice of standing on a stage of my own design. Too much fun, I must say. All those who helped me in those shows are saints, or at least as close to saints as bat-shit crazy heathens can be. A sincere thank you to all those who contributed to making it what it was, and who expressed hope in what it could eventually be. You have all been added to the “do resuscitate” list.
Some new videos are on the way. Articles are in the works. New features and salutes are being devised as we speak. A real site and a non-wordpress url is still the ideal goal for the summer. Promises, promises. I’m sure I wouldn’t believe me either at this point, but trust me, all that is coming soon.
Tim is still in Korea. He’ll be in school in Toronto soon, sharpening the knives. He’s been sending me postcards. Most of them disgusting. Some of them nonsensical. All of them gorgeous.
I’m doing alright. I need some dental work done. Undersexed, most likely. I was told I smell by my new employer, and I can’t argue with facts. People are looking at what I’m doing and telling me they like what they see. Not sure if that is just in comparison to what they have seen from me before, so I’m taking it at face value. I find I don’t make eye contact with people very much, and when I do I get the sense that people think I am trying to steal their souls somehow. I do very little to dissuade this belief, I must confess. I’ve also been listening to a lot of Cardiacs lately. For better or worse, that’s where my universe is at right now.
You deserve content, not excuses. This is neither, though I guess it could be confused as both. In order to survive, I know I must be willing to subject myself to elements that could irreversibly damage or mutate my DNA. I am entitled to no better, and you came here for nothing less.
Again, this is assuming you are real. At least I’ve got my wits about me enough to know I’m screaming non-sense into a void, waiting for the black hole to heckle me back.
Oh well, fuck it. Go on singing. Enjoy the show.
– J.D. Renaud