The D-Word's life is one of glamour and riches, as only a documentary filmmaker can live it

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I've been called in for jury duty at the worst possible moment. Home Page is opening in New York next month and suddenly everything is happening at once.

Not that there's ever a convenient time to be doing jury duty, of course, but there are a million things to do and I simply can't be stuck in court for any length of time. I've already postponed it once and now there's no way out.

Luckily, everyone, it seems, has a sure-fire method for shirking my civic responsibility.

́Tell them you're an anarchist. It's foolproof!! Jennifer reassures me. I'm shooting her documentary, so she has a little more at stake here than most.

́I don't know,! I respond. ́I'm a terrible liar.!

́Well, then, when they interview you just look all wild-eyed, and laugh at inappropriate moments.!

On the phone, Chris's boyfriend, John, is equally adamant. ́Tell them you think there are way too many frivolous law suits brought before the court. Works like a charm.! In all the years Chris has worked on my film, I've spoken to John maybe twice. Suddenly, he's like my best friend.

I look at my to-do list and heave a big sigh.

The week before, I officially signed with IFILM to exclusively stream Home Page on the Web starting November 12th, exactly one week before it opens theatrically here in NY at the Cinema Village. It will mark the first time ever a feature film will be available in it's entirety for free on the Internet before it's theatrical release.

The deal was in the works for weeks, ever since IFILM finally agreed to help with the costs of opening the film. But it's real value is promotional. Suddenly, we're no longer a small documentary with a threadbare marketing budget opening against ten other films. Overnight, we're the next post-Blair Witch filmmakers utilizing the Internet to promote and distribute our indie film -- and making motion picture history, in the bargain!

It's not like Hollywood is quaking in it's boots, exactly, but the first step is always to get yourself on the industry's radar screen. And the very next day that mission was accomplished when Variety wrote: "IFILM proved itself a major player by inking a first-of-it's-kind distribution deal for Doug Block's doc about web pioneers..."

Now we need to capitalize on the momentum.

Nerve has offered to co-host a launch party with IFILM for the night of the 12th, which needs to be coordinated. The Cinema Village requires a local publicist to handle their opening, which I need to take care of quickly. If we're gonna do home video sales off the Net, I need to get going with the artwork and makes deals with retailers. The Nerve convergence project needs further planning. Yahoo Internet Life is calling about a project.

If that isn't enough, Dan Richards managed to lease the Caucus conferencing software from Howard Rheingold for a very reasonable price and quickly got it up and running. We're inviting folks in, they're streaming in slowly from seven countries and counting, the conversations are beginning to fly and this pipedream of a worldwide virtual community of documentary filmmakers is being realized before our very eyes. It's happened so fast it's almost unreal.

I spend the entire week of the IFFM talking on panels, shmoozing and passing out flyers about The D-Word, which has transformed almost overnight from my personal website to a community site. Dan and I have no grand business plan, not even a basic strategy of substainability. We just know it's an idea whose time has come, we're the ones in position to do it, and I'm as excited by it as anything I've done in years. But it will require a serious commitment of time and energy.

Time which I may no longer have if I don't play my cards right.

I sit in the packed jury pool holding room and watch a corny video about the American jury system hosted by the Sixty Minutes broadcast team. Despite myself, I start to feel a small lump in my throat. My wife, the law professor, the most honest and ethical person I've ever known, has worked her entire professional life upholding the tenets of our system of justice. I begin to feel like a cad for trying to opt out.

A list of names are read off and about 30 of us are summoned to another room for the voir dire. On the way, I'm stunned to discover that one of our group is none other than the legendary sports announcer (and notorious back-biter) Marv Albert. I can only imagine the field day the tabloids would have if he ends up on a jury.

A judge and the two opposing lawyers fill us in on the facts of the case. An elderly lady was walking on the sidewalk past a restaurant when an employee tossed a bucket of water onto the street, knocking the woman over and causing her to break her elbow. She's suing the employee and the restaurant for negligence.

The judge, a stately man is in his mid-60's, asks each of us individually whether we've ever been in, or had a friend or family member in, an auto accident, and whether we or they went to trial as a result. When he finally gets around to Marv, I'm so embarrassed for the poor guy that I can barely think of an exit strategy.

Marv mentions he was in a traffic accident about ten years ago, which, in fact, ended up in a law suit. ́Do you think you could be an impartial juror?! the judge asks, politely. ́I'm not sure that I can,! he responds, his famous voice all but inaudible.

Hmmm. It's clear to anyone with half a brain that an answer like that would basically remove one from consideration, but when the judge gets around to me I find myself unable to lie. "Yes, I was in a very minor accident when I was 18 years old. And my father injured his hand a few years ago when he swerved into a fire hydrant to avoid a squirrel darting out into the road... No, neither of us sued... Yes, I think I could be a fair juror (damn it!)."

Just before the judge is to leave he asks if anyone has any last questions. I tentatively raise my hand. ́I'm not sure now is the appropriate moment for this,! I say, ́but I have one slight misgiving on the fairness issue that I wasn't able to touch on.! ́Go ahead,! he nods, kindly.

́Well, it's just that I'm a sole proprietor and lately I've taken on all sorts of new projects that are kind of all-consuming. It's not so much that I'm worried about lost income, it's more a matter of worrying that I'll spend so much of my time thinking about all that I need to be doing that I won't be giving the case my fullest attention. In other words, I couldn't possibly be the kind of juror I'd want on my jury if I were on trial.!

The irony is, all I'm doing is speaking the God's-honest truth. I know I'd be so impatient to get back to work that I truly feel it wouldn't be fair. I'd just want the trial to get over as fast as possible. Almost as soon as the judge gets my drift he begins to cut me off. Just as he turns to leave, though, I can't help blurting out one last thought:

"And besides, I tend to think there are too many frivolous law suits going around these days."

The judge stops in his tracks and turns back to me, crimson-faced. "That's enough, Mr Block!" he all but shouts. "We don't need to hear any more of your personal philosophizing!"

At the end of the day, I'm excused from all jury duty service. I'm elated, of course, but part of me regrets not having the time to sit in on a real trial. The whole process is fascinating to the documentarian in me. More surprisingly, the citizen in me regrets not doing his bit to keep the wheels of justice spinning. It's a little like not taking the time or trouble to vote in an election.

My wife is pleased that I didn't simply weasel my way out of it. I'm proud of myself for telling the truth -- and for getting a N.Y. State Supreme Court judge supremely pissed off at me. A sixty year old woman is getting a somewhat more attentive jury at her trial. And Marv is back where he belongs, covering the Yankees and Mets thrilling drive towards a subway series.

I'm back, too, juggling my usual half-dozen balls in the air at the same time. Struggling to get the film noticed. Working to build a worldwide community of documentary filmmakers. Trying to maintain a semblance of family life.

And wondering when I'll ever have any free time on my hands again.

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