Loss Of Possibility

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Back to Old El Frisco, good old San Fran. Normal, regular, used to love you but nay as much now, San Francisco. My previous trip back to SF has been blogged about in the past (click here to be reminded if needs be) so I will not repeat my feelings once more. Instead, I will simply describe them in a different way, ha.

About a week and a half ago, I was looking forward to getting out of L.A for a while. Made the call, up to SF to write the sitcom pilot, get away from the madness and random ways of L.A, it would do me good. In fact, I was pumped to go to SF, my pilot needed and was going to be written, time to work! Then, I actually got a job, that will pay me, made a few more contacts, two more job opportunities were then put in front of me, and I had a great week. The whole week was a bit blurry, so I decided not to think about my decision to come up here. The blur has lifted, replaced by the SF fog, but I can now see through the haze. 

Something about San Fran is just not the same as L.A. When I give a homeless guy a dollar in L.A, I usually get a bit of humour out of it (last time I found out that he has more pairs of socks to choose from than I do, odd enough, I should’ve written more on that when it happened). At worst, I get a friendly punch in the ear, well worth a dollar for a story like that though. However, here, in SF, it is different. Yesterday, I gave a homeless guy a dollar, out of habit and also as he looked like he would do more than just give me a friendly punch in the ear if I didn’t. As I put the dollar into his cup, I noticed he was also flicking through songs, on his iPod, one earphone in his ear, the other earphone dangling down, similar to what I was doing at the time. In fact, I got a shudder as if I was looking at a mirror version of myself, only 5 weeks into the future.

However, his iPod was a far newer version than mine. I would almost say it was an iPod Touch, but not fully sure. And I was giving him a dollar? Didn’t feel right. Who needed that dollar more, I pondered, as I realized I no longer had enough for a coffee. To make matters worse, after walking a block further down the street, my iPod gave up on me. The battery didn’t die, it just froze, which has been happening lately. I am tapping on it still like one might on a fishbowl, trying to revive my goldfish, so to speak. Now and again, I get a flutter of the tail, but it is on its last legs. This would not have happened in L.A!

First night up here, I went out with my cousins for a friends birthday. Down to the local pub, then off into the heart of SF’s bustling nightlife centre. And, I noticed a few things. It is far harder to bluff your way past queues here. Nobody cares that you are Irish. Far more jock dudes in the bars. Far, far less quantity of women in the bars here. The women are far less plastic looking here. And on top of all this, the abundance of good looking women is far less plentiful here. However, I suppose they can hold a conversation better and don’t ask “Who are you?”. All depends what you’re looking for really. Personally, I miss L.A. A lot.

At least the public transport in SF allows you to get around the place easily. Unlike L.A, which has none. Well, two buses I think, but no clue where they go to (5% of the reason I walk everywhere in L.A). It could have something to do as well that usually I have nowhere to go in L.A (another 5%). And the buses seem to be used by homeless people only. Not that I am a snob who thinks he is too good for the bus full of homeless people, that goes God only knows where, or anything like that (90% of the reason). So, that is one plus for San Fran, yay San Fran, wuu, hang in there Harvey.

Last night it occurred to me, why it is that I way prefer L-Heey to San Fran. In L.A, I walk 2 blocks to the gym, roughly. Up here, I walk 16 blocks. That 2 block walk has thrown up all sorts of stories, conundrums, encounters and so on, more than I can think of now off the top of my head. Here, the 16 block walk, always, always passes without incident. The loss of possibility is immense. Life is far more regular and normal here. Not saying that is a bad thing, at all. However, in L.A, when are you trying to get a break, make contacts, network, get material, get people interested in your sitcom etc., the possibilities are absolutely endless. You never know who might be buying you a round next, singing karaoke with, or be next to in the gym, and so on. Actors, singers, directors, producers, or simply wannabes like myself, you just never know. And it happens daily, hourly at times, all fairly fun and eventful. The possibilities and opportunities are endless!

Either that, or I just prefer only having to walk 2 blocks to the gym. Although it is not that there have been no funny stories occurring here, there have, just not as many. I suppose the whole interest/obsession people have with Hollywood is a good added bonus to any story though. That is why my sitcom will be based there! And, in case you are wondering, the writing is going great so far! Made a lot of progress today. Went off and bought a big pile of index cards and an A4 writing pad. Which both look well next to my little notebook, which is on top my larger notebook. Alongside my 4 different pens. All sitting next to me on the table, jealous of my laptop. Going well so far, still not one word down on paper. Oh Jesus.

Two songs of the day. First I am a big fan of, mainly for the first two minutes. Not sure why so much, but here it is. After this long winded introduction. I now present you with… The End (Riva Starr Retrip) by The Doors

And the next has been annoying me the past day or so, finally figured out what song it was from having a snippet in my head over and over… Your Woman by White Town (for any Spanish readers, nicely subtitled for you. First and only video I could find that would allow me to embed the Mandy Mhuuure)

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Name And Shame

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Writing so far has started off like I would do when studying for exams before. I waste a good few days procrastinating and get nothing done. Particularly during the day, I am more of a night person. Usually, after a week or two of this, the fear kicks in, and I cram it all in the day and night before the exam. However, this is not going to work with the writing. Time to grow up, in the writing world at least, time is a ticking. There was only one reason, after all, why I came here, yet I somehow have developed a mighty to-do list!

So, I have decided to try and help myself out, by naming and shaming the ways I have procrastinated today, doing everything but writing the pilot, in hope that it will, figuratively speaking, slap myself in the head to cop on.

Procrastination List:

1. Watched Days Of Our Lives.

2. Watched General Hospital.

3. Bought more pens (takes the total up to 4 fully inked pens).

4. Bought more paper to write on (takes the total up to 2 notebooks, an A4 pad and 200 index cards).

5. Brought my disposable camera to the shop to get developed.

6. Cleaned my already clean runners. 3 pairs.

7. Walking around the apartment a few times, looking for my phone, while on the phone.

8. Went to the gym.

9. Collected the photos from the shop.

10. Wrote this list.

11. Made this poll

(As you can quite clearly see, some high levels of procrastinating going on. Don’t worry, I am busy formulating the episode/scenes in my head while doing all this, it is coming along nicely! No need to fret!)

Pardon. I’m Sorry? Hang On…

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If you have not being keeping up to date, shame on you, why the funk not? For those that have, good work, you will know my plan is to now go to San Francisco, save some bobs, and get a bit of normality back. Minor issues really, main one is so I can write my pilot for the sitcom, and prepare a scene that I will make when I head back to L.A. It is crunch time. Without a shadow of a doubt. Can I produce the goods, we shall see, re de de. I have been listening to Bon Jovi a lot over the past few days. Oh Jesus.

Once again, I was right on time for the flight leaving LAX, got through the airport perfectly, onto the plane and flew off, without any hitch along the way. Sure. As of late, I have being having a bit of a run of mishaps in this department, particularly when it comes to the security check point. This time was to be no different. My flight was at 6 in the evening, so I spent the day dawdling, half packing, making some sandwiches for the flight, deciding to go to the gym at the last minute, and then hurriedly finishing up with my packing, as any ape would do. Initially, I thought I was going to be late for the flight. However, 5.20 is actually plenty of time for the check-in, wuu huu, happy days.

While standing in the pretty long line for the security gate, I remembered that the reason that I had an immense thirst and no water to quench it with, was seeing as I knew you couldn’t bring water through security. Clever me. Why I did not think the same applied to turkey and tomato sandwiches, I still don’t know. There was bob hope I was letting any of the food in my house go to waste with my budget, so I ended up bringing a mountain of food with me. Eating 6 big turkey and tomato sandwiches, with no water, so they were delightfully dry, can take longer than you might think. I almost finished them all off, even letting people pass by me and skip ahead, I can be very cordial at times. However, when I noticed the time, and that my name was being called out at the gate for the flight, I decided enough was enough with the sandwiches, I was a tad late.

Now I was the one skipping past people to the front, my name was being called, apologies, must get through. Somehow, while I was swallowing lumps of turkey and what felt like full tomatoes, the security lady seemed to gather what I was telling her, and waved me through, up to the trays. Threw my bag, iPod, phone, notebook, chewing gum, pen, other phone, belt, flip flops, chewing gum, tic-tacs, headphones, everything into the two trays and hurried through. No beep, wuu. “Excuse me sir, you’ll have to take off your hat and go through again” What the funk, there was no beep, I’m late! “Go back and take off your hat, it must go through.” The security guard was killing me! Hat off, threw it on top of my laptop, back through, no beep, my name being called out over the intercom for the flight, I needed to go!

Grabbed all my stuff, threw them all into my man/hand bag, grabbed my laptop, where’s my hat, come on hat, there we go, and took off for the gate, with my shorts falling off as I ran (belt was in the bag, no time to put it on). Took off at the fastest speed I could possible manage, which was not pretty fast with my shorts falling down and carrying my man/hand bag at an awkward angle, trying to squeeze my laptop into it while I scuttled along. Thankfully, it looked like the gate was close enough, happy days. It was around then when I thought I heard someone say “Hey you, come back, hey, stop.” However, seeing as my name was once again being called out over the intercom, I chose to listen to the big booming voice and not look to see who was calling who, behind me.

When the words “You in the hat, hey, stop now sir, stop!!!” were bellowed from behind me, I chose to look around, just to see, the hat factor made me feel a bit like I should. And I saw two security guys chasing after me, followed by a girl. Still half jogging, shorts falling, hat wobbling on top of my head, I gave the custom – Who, me? – and pointed to myself. At this point I stopped, finally realizing that they were calling after me, oh God, what the funk is wrong now?!

“Sir, you took that laptop which does not belong to you, you will have to come back with us”. Once again, what the funk?!! You stopped me because of that?!!! This is my laptop, I’m sorry, but thats my name that is being called over and over for the flight, I have to go, it is my laptop. “Sir, it is not your laptop, just step over here with us”. This is some funking joke, I am going to miss my flight! It is my bloody laptop! I know it is my laptop, 100%. This is just stupid. If I miss the flight, you are paying for a new flight for me, and I want an apology! This is some joke! Fine here, look, my laptop.

Laptop

Handed over my laptop, my white laptop, in its black covered case, which I know so well, and watched them open it up, waiting for an apology. Except, and there was always going to be an except really, they opened up the black laptop case, and pulled out a pink laptop. How on earth did my laptop turn pink?! What is going on?!! This is when the girl said “That’s it, that’s my laptop, here is yours” and handed me over a very similar looking laptop case, black, and when I opened it up, my laptop was somehow in it. How did my laptop get into her identical black laptop case? All pretty bizarre. Unless you’re not an idiot, and it made perfect sense.

In my hurried and turkey laden dumb state, I had, obviously, grabbed the wrong laptop. In all fairness though, what are the odds of the person one tray before mine having the exact, exact same case? Not sure really, but I am guessing not too high. Em, sugar, sorry about that, ha, it’s not my laptop alright, no need for that apology I demanded a few seconds ago, I apologise. Sorry. Thanks, I was in a rush. Are we cool? Did I tell you that that is me being called for the flight, listen… there, that’s me, Mark’s my name, gotta run, nice to meet you all! And off I eventually went. Great fun.

To cap this story off, I eventually made the flight, after having to stand at the gate and be given out to, by the (ridiculously good looking) air hostess, for being late and holding up the flight. So I felt bad, as I took my seat. Until I realized about 10 minutes later that the flight had still not left. And did not do so, not until 3 more off duty and drunk (but all still also ridiculously good looking) air hostesses came aboard and took their seats by mine. Still no clue why they kept calling me so much if those 3 weren’t on the plane before me. I am convinced they set me up. Unfortunately, I was unable to set myself up any more. All married.

Song of the day, at the end of the day, is this song… I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You (Twelves Remix) by The Black Kids

Down, Date, Down

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The controversy over If You Seek Amy was spelt out for me ever so kindly, literally. Mucho gracias. Now that I get it, what a genius! I have been trying hard to do something similar for a name I am mulling over, but as of yet, no joy. The best I have got so far has involved a key, that is fun, ha. But, I digress, a tad.

I also realize that the last post might have seemed a bit bitter. It was not meant to be, just surprised that they were doing it in a place like that, was all. Looking at it now, more power to them if they can bluff and get away with it. Who am I, of all people, to say anything?!!!! Bluff on! Moving on, next post…

Milli Vanilli

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Everyone remembers Milli Vanilli and the story of how they go caught being frauds, miming the words to their songs while other people sang the vocals for them, right? Come to think of it, maybe 5% of readers will, seeing as hardly anyone remembered Bros (how could you not know them?), so here is a snippet of Milli in action…

There is a reason to bring this up now, just to keep it in mind later on. Anyways, last night in L.A before I left for San Francisco to do a bit of writing, I headed out for my friend’s birthday. The location was Foxtail, a fairly la de da, pretentious, poser-ish, L.A place. Suited me to a tee, ha. I was told the place has been used on Entourage and the Hills, but who knows. It is usually full of celeb heads and a tough place to get into at the best of times. Apparently this is a hot spot, where you see famous apes stumbling out of. Again, there is a reason that I am giving you more of this useless information. 

Usually, 5 guys going up together would have bob hope of getting in, there was a big long line, mostly just hot women been ushered in to fill the place up. Thankfully my friend knew the guys who were promoting the place, who, as it turned out, also DJ’ing in there that night. In we go, no boring line or queue, happy days. The venue itself is two floors, by no means huge, but savage decor, looks cool. And all this comes at a fairly expensive price. Particularly for someone on my budget.

My original plan was to have a few pre-drinks at my place, then stroll to the club and go to the bank en route. For some reason, all this went out the window and I ended up boozeless and penniless in the club. No ATM in there, so my buddy gave me a loan, far money than I had planned on. One of the other guys buys a round of shots, 5 tequilas, happy birthday kind of thing. Down the hatch, and people disperse for a look upstairs. Coincidentally, it is just my birthday buddy and I left by the bar. Might as well buy him his birthday drink now, seeing as we are just standing here. Nothing to do with the fact the others have conveniently disappeared. Up for a shot boss, my round! “Sounds good, I’ll just pop to the toilet and be right back” Cool, see you in a minute. The cost of those two shots alone sent me reeling, big time.

Unfortunately, it got worse. While I was waiting for my buddy to come back so that we could do the shot, the guy who had bought the first round was after re-appearing. “Cheers Merrick, is that mine?” pointing to the other shot. Eh, yeah, I suppose, balls, cheers. Toasted him, after giving away the birthday shot, and the other 3 re-appear from different directions. “Hold on, we’ll do them all together, Merrick got this round in guys!” Balls. Balls some more. “Where are the other shots? Did the bar girl bring them over yet?” Hang on, I’ll go check, balls. Mosey on over to the bar, 3 more tequilas please, why do I feel sick and I haven’t even taken the shot yet.

The next few minutes were a whirl wind and a blur. Money that I did not have was handed over, tiny shots given in exchange, down the hatch, head spinning, stomach felt sick, and none of that was drink related. My next few days’ budget was just poured into 5 little shot glasses and handed out. Oh God, what was I doing?! The round was so expensive, especially when you have no money!!! Whatever you think it was, I’d say add another $20-$30 on to that figure, more or less, it was bad.

Panic attack symptoms and dizziness started to get hold of me. Thankfully when I went outside to get some air, my buddy, who was late coming in, rang me. Told me not to worry, he would ease the pain, bringing a shoulder in with him. I presume he meant one for me to cry on.

While waiting for him to come in and ease the pain, I headed upstairs. As I walked up, I noticed every second song that they played was good, then bad, and so on. While I walked around the upstairs part, a remix I frequently play at the gym came on, these DJ’s might be good after all, birds of a feather! My buddy was over by them, watching them work their magic, and called me over. This, this, was when all respect was completely lost for them. I thought I was doing a bit of bluffing at the start, they were Milli Vanilli!!!

A big mountain of equipment was mounted in front of them. Turntables, mixers, flashing lights, knobs, pedals, speakers, and a laptop. When I was standing by them, watching the crowd go nuts for the remix, I noticed that one was twirling knobs, turning discs, pushing buttons, and mixing his little heart out, while the other DJ was clapping to the crowd and pumping them up. What nobody else seemed to notice about the mixing DJ, was that he was actually doing absolutely nothing! As in nothing! None of what he was pressing or twirling were having any effect on the song. It was simply a remixed song! He was claiming the remix as his own, as if he was doing them live, on the spot!

I know, I know, I have documented it here that the first time in the gym DJ’ing, when I was completely clueless and winging it, I pretended to be doing more than I was. Thankfully, that has stopped. Like sober dancing, I copped on that more than likely there was not a big spotlight focused on me, and that more than likely nobody was staring at my goings on. And, if they were, I didn’t want to feel like a fool and be caught out.

The song which I watched him “remix live”, and which the crowd were giving him kidneys and babies for being able to do, was a Kanye West remix which I can’t find a Youtube video for, but it is full of bits that would be easy to bluff, volume going missing, vocals only, beat getting faster in places. Similar to this…

And the dude was taking credit as if he was doing it there and then, the both of them were, I could hear them tell my friend it was them remixing the song! I watched them for another 2 or 3 songs, they would swap duties every song, but the same thing every time, pretending to be pressing buttons, swirling knobs, speeding up the tune… all bull, I knew the remixes they were playing. The crowd did not seem to care that neither were even good at mixing the end and start of two songs together, they might have well been pressing stop… start.It was then when I realized that the club might be built up to be more than it actually is, a blow-in. You can’t beat a crowd full of drink and who knows what else though, I suppose. If they can get away with it, who am I to criticize.

Now that I am writing about it, it does not read too well from my point of view. However, the reason it shocked me so much at the time was because of this… I always got the impression that it would be the cream of the crop DJ’ing in a top, hot-spot, ritzy venue in Hollywood! A few of the places I have been to, the DJs have been savage. But at the same time, seeing as this place was billed as so good, I suppose I expected more. After DJ’ing for about a month now, these dudes were doing the exact same, if not worse. It was all smoke and mirrors, all they needed was their laptop. (Neither were the DJ who remixed the songs originally either, in case you think one might have been, they were just complete bluffers).

Thankfully, I realized at this time that I was being a complete ape by bothering to get annoyed at the DJ’ing bluffing, like a DJ snob, like I had any clue at all myself. After all, I was DJ’ing in a gym, while they were here, in a supposed top club in Hollywood. Supposed.

I left them at their bluffing and went off to find my buddy and his shoulder. Thankfully, his shoulder saved the night!

One last music related topic… The song If U Seek Amy by Britney Spears, how is that controversial? A load of people talk about it if you play it here. Originally I thought she wanted to fight Amy Winehouse. Then I was told to say the title of the song quickly, and I still don’t get it. At most, it sounds like she is saying vasectomy? Anyone  else think the same? Or care? No? Shut up? Ok.

Song of the day, is this mighty remix, which I am actually remixing live, as you listen to it, I am that good! Part of Me (Discotech Remix) by Chris Cornell ft Timbaland

Giruls

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There are numerous reasons why I am staying away from certain specific stories on el blogaruu. Numerous reasons. Main one being, obviously, I have none of that kind from here in L.A. Numerous others. Lately, this became another reason. Recently, a guy I hardly know, and still not sure why he bothered, started to tell me about a game of chess, lets call it, that he played with a girl the day before. Telling me where his pieces were positioned on the table, where he put his king, none of her pieces would go near his king, and a lot more talk specifically aimed around his chess pieces. All in all, he went on and on about his king, and what he did with it. Hopefully the italics will help you along the way there. It was great fun to sit there and listen to, a pointless story, pretty much like this one. However, at least it made me realize, no one wants to hear about chess, unless your king is beaten up or something bizarre happens during the game, but even then, not really blogaruu material.

On the other hand, I do have a few stories that just about stay within the realm of bloggable. In fact, I have a bucket of them, but seeing as three occurred all within the same evening and night over the weekend, I’ll work them in here and make them suitable.

First one starts with a girl I met once, months back, during the first week or two of being in L.A. Introduced to her on a night out by either Andy or Colin Todd, not sure which, I think her first few comments to me were along the lines of how she always gets her lefts and rights mixed up, her left hand, right hand, left indicator, right indicator, left foot, right foot and a long, long list of many more that she so kindly listed out for me. I think I was distracted by her left and right something or other, can’t really remember, eyes maybe, to be able to withstand her long list. Throughout the one time I met her, she told me so many ways that she gets them mixed up. She painted quite the clever picture of herself, to be true.

Anyways, out of the blue the other day, she gets in touch to tell me she is in my neck of the Hollywoods, what was I up to. I told her I was packing up some stuff, I was leaving L.A. “Oh my Gawd, why are you leaving?” Gave her my reasons and included a joke especially tailored for her – I am leaving to go left for a while, work to be done! “Huh, go left?” Oh sorry, I meant to go write, I must get some writing done, I can’t believe that has happened again, I always get my lefts and rights mixed up! Surprisingly, my horrifically good joke, a thinking man’s joke, one of those ones, went waaay over her head, did not get it, in the slightest “Oh my Gawd, I always do that too! Just earlier I got my left & right shoe mixed up!” Good work woman, at least it is nice to see that L.A has not changed you since the last time we spoke.

For some reason, she was very emotional and hysterical that I was leaving L.A for a few days. Although it did keep in tow with her texts the last time I left for Mexico “Noooo, I will miss you, come back, I miss hanging out!”, after only meeting her once, ever, a couple of months prior. “I must come say goodbye, I am close by, I have to send you off”. Ok, you strange nut, if you insist. After she sent me off and said goodbye, it dawned on me why she was so hysterical and acting like it was so final. Well, not really dawned, more she said it specifically “I can’t believe you’re leaving L.A and going back to Ireland, what will I do now we can’t hang out any more?!” I was going to mention a few important issues, such as I was only going to San Francisco for a week or so, plus we had hung out twice since January, but I decided it would be better if I just right her off. I mean, left her off. Deary me, her ways are starting to rub off on me, I will miss hanging out with her!

She left, I got ready to go out for my friend’s birthday, and then left my house. Literally as I stepped off the steps to my building, incident number two occurred. A girl was walking up my street, and I was heading down it, we were inevitably going to cross paths. And I knew her, from the club/bar/dancing convention place at the top of my street. Only seen her once, and she had only seen me once, but enough happened for small talk to occur. Maybe I could get away with a quick nod, a how’s it going? and scuttle off down the street. 

Still not sure if she did this on purpose or not, but at times I do it myself, if and when I feel that the person asking me how things are going, does not actually give a flying funk, and wants to get away. When I feel that they are asking me to merely fill a gap, instead of obligingly giving them their desired, quick response – Fine, yourself? Good stuff – and letting the conversation end quickly, I prefer to throw words at them that they can not possibly get away with just giving a fake nod and a smile. Words such as “bloated”, “bizarre” or “Oriental” have all worked in the past to stop a person in their tracks and make them begrudgingly ask “Oh. Bloated/bizarre/Oriental? Why so? You look fine to me. Please say you’re fine and let me go” At least it lets me know if they are listening or not.

Back to this girl specifically, who again, not sure if she meant it, but, as it dawned on her that she recognized me too, responded with a grimace, and said… “Oh hi, I’m sore” accompanied with a pouting face. What could I do, tell her good work, and walk on? No, had to be done – Oh yeah, ha, that’s a weird one (but a good one), why sore? “I cut myself shaving, I was in a rush for work”. Now I thought she was the one lying to me, after quickly inspecting her face and seeing there were no cuts, what a liar! Ha, guff, where? I don’t see any cuts. By the time I said this, realized my stupidity – girls shave their legs, and not their faces (well, most anyways I hope, ha) – and was about to say, oh your legs, she put me in my place with her blunt response…

At this point I should just say, girls in L.A at times have no shame/cop on/are very open to strangers or people they just met. Anyways, she could’ve wrote a monologue on where she cut herself. And the way she bluntly told me, left me just saying dumbly – Oh, there, I thought you meant somewhere else, ha, oh yeah, for work, yeah, I get it, eh… To which she replied “Oh no, I dont ever shave my a…” sk me a stupid question and I will further dumbfound you with my brutally open answers. 

All quite random really. Not much happened after that now I think about it. This post is dragging on a bit so I will not bore you with any further details. Final story just involved me being brutal at remembering names, particularly when one girl was, so to speak, quizzing me about hers. Doesn’t matter, end of those type of stories.

Song of the funny old day is… Strange Overtones by David Byrne & Brian Eno

Tea Or Coffee?

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Is anyone else this smart at times…

You have somewhere you need to be, an important meeting lets say, but it could be anywhere. Being the smart person you are, you get up early that morning, get ready, plenty of time to spare, and you’re good to go. Say the meeting is at 11, lets say that is about 10.43, and the meeting venue is about a 6 minute walk from where you live (according to Google maps). It would be dumb to be too early for the meeting. Obviously. Tops, you only want to be a minute or two early. So, you decide to have a quick cup of tea before you leave. The smart thing to do. You cant beat a cup of tea!

Roughly around 10.45 you fill the kettle up, but seeing as it is not an electric one, you have to sit and wait for it to boil on the cooker. Pots and kettles are quite similar when watched. You get impatient, but continue to wait. You’ll chug it back quickly over the sink, it’ll be fine. Cup and tea bag ready, at 10.48 you pour the boiling water in, can’t have it too weak, so you wait a bit longer for it to be the right blend that you like. It is now about 10.50, drain the tea bag, and realize you have only a drop of milk left. It’ll have to do, no time to waste, just chug it back and you can still make the meeting on time. Take a big mouthful, and burn your tongue nicely. Spit half the mouthful into the sink and curse the cup of tea, for being so stupid and hot, what was it thinking?!!! The cup of tea is then poured down the sink, as punishment for burning your tongue. For some reason (maybe have OCD, or else just be a clean freak, not really sure), you decide to wash the cup before you leave, realize it is now 10.53, and the race is on! 

Anyone else? No? Me neither.

On a side note, last Friday I had a meeting with the head of the Irish Film Board here in L.A. It was on in Starbucks around the corner from my house, about 5 minutes away. Well that’s not taking into account my steep hill and the dodgy street of traffic on Sunset Boulevard you must run across to get there. But if you run/sprint all the way, in the sweltering heat, you’ll be fine, you can make it on time. Just.

An Irish girl in BAFTA had set the meeting up for me, good chance to network etc. There was also another Irish actress coming along as well, the more connections the better! Due to a plethora of reasons – sheer heat that day, issues with my tongue, and not being a fan of hot beverages at that time – I was hoping to stay away from getting a coffee. However, as one was then bought for me, I thought I could at least get away with just holding it, and pretending to take sips. Not to look rude or anything. Obviously, I was then asked if my coffee also tasted a bit peculiar, take another drink and tell me if yours tastes odd too, kind of thing occurred. Yeah, tastes weird alright, is there any milk in it, no? Cheers. Tastes like burnt tongue, or maybe the inside of my cheek is now scalded, not sure really which one I am tasting. My mouth has yet to recover or forgive me. The sacrifices I am going through in hope of a break! 

Overall, the meeting went well. I was not entirely sure what I wanted to gain out of the encounter, mainly just to make contacts and tell people what I am trying to do here, I suppose. Told them a few blog related stories, the girl talked about her acting activities and the likes, and that was it mostly. The guy from the Irish Film Board was younger than I expected, sound too, and the girl was pretty cool on top. However, when the meeting was wrapped up, there was an air of, ok, cool, cheers for meeting up, au revoir, I will see you whenever. We all went outside, shook hands goodbye, gave the girl I just met a hug goodbye, almost bopped her in the head, and started to walk back home, fairly pleased. Fairly.

As it turned out, the guy was walking in the same direction as me, seeing as his office was across the road from the top of my street. The conversation turned a bit less informal (not that the coffee meeting was formal or anything) and things took a turn for the better. Being an Everton supporter has rarely been of use to me. Meeting other Everton supporters is very infrequent. Lo and behold, I was walking alongside a fellow Everton supporter. Banter on “What was your sitcom about again? We should meet up for the Everton match”. Sounds good. He also drinks in the bar that I now DJ at, more banter on! “I’m going there tomorrow with some friends if you want to come.” I’m heading off to write the pilot and sitcom outline, when I get back though, sounds good. “When you get that scene of the sitcom made, I’d be interested in looking at it, could show it to a few others too. Did I tell you about the film festival I’m organising?” You mentioned it in passing, tell me more, it sounded good!

The walk home took the level of the meeting’s success up a notch or two. All in all, well worth a burnt tongue (tea) and scalded cheek (coffee). I shall be sticking with the water from now on. Until the next meeting anyways.

Here’s a mighty song that I always sang along to with “You look a bit like coffee and you taste a bit like tea”. Then found out it was “… coffee … me”. Tea would’ve been far better… The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah