We have a symbiotic relationship, the fan base and I. In a weird way, they get to live vicariously through me, since I’m the tubby kid who made it good, who comes across less like an artist and more like your buddy who suddenly won the lottery of life. They see how I “handle” it, and they’re into the fact that it would appear I’m the same person now as I was before I started making films. Plus, I inspire them, in that “If a guy like that can make it, then maybe I can, too” kinda way.

What I get from the fan base is unconditional support. They may not like all the flicks I do, but they’ll give each one a shot—which is the most you can ask for from any audience. Contrary to what the haters think, the fan base doesn’t lounge around like a giant caterpillar, taking hits off the hookah of my collective body of work; they’re normal people with normal lives who just relate to what I write/say. And the relationship doesn’t end at the theater: These are folks I play poker with. I spend my birthdays with them (onstage or at a home-made prom). I played hockey against and beside them just last week in Brantford, Ontario, at Walter Gretzky’s 3rd Annual Street Hockey Tournament. It makes sense we’d all get along, as we share a common interest: Kevin Smith films. But, Jesus—you can only talk about those for so long. And when the “Then what’d Jason Lee say?” chatter dries up, you find they’re more friends than fans.

But that all stems from honesty. So, sure—I have a tendency to “overshare.” But it’s brought so many cool people into my life as a result that it’s worth the lack of privacy.