Water Works

2 Comments

All in all, it has been a tough week. And I don’t mean tough as in I have been down a coal mine for the week, slaving away, hard labour. Tough, in the mental way. Looking to my corner, wondering should I wave for the towel to be thrown in, kind of thing. Luckily, in the past few days, I have been reinvigorated. and the dream lives on! However, that can wait until the next blogaruu. Seeing as it is Sunday, a day of chilling, I’d like to talk about another gibber-issue which cropped up again this week. 

The first issue is not a recent problem. It has followed me around all my life. The past few months have highlighted it considerably, wherever it may be that I have been. Up and down California, Mexico a couple of times, in and around Ireland. No matter where it is I arrive to, whatever new place it is, usually, within about 30 minutes of arrival, the problem occurs. And I end up naked, cold, frustrated and confused. For at least 5 minutes. Hazarding a guess, I would say I’m not the only one with this problem. Then again, maybe I am. Anyways, I think its time for a change. Surely, in this day and age, showers should be made into a universal form. Like taps are, more or less. Or toilets. 

However, they are not, and they continuously confuse me. I always forget as well, so strip down and get into the shower without even thinking about it. Then stand there, with a feeling of confusion growing inside of me, while I look blankly at the knob in front of me. Not that one, obviously, the shower knob. Again, this week, in my hotel in Galway, the same thing happened. As it did in the place where I stayed in Dublin. In Galway, when I turned the knob one way, the light in the bathroom switched off. Turned it back, the toilet flushed. Whenever I enquire how the shower actually does work, the answer is usually the same “Did you pull the knob out? Yeah, pull it down first, then out, then to the right, and back in. It should work then”. It doesn’t. Unless I am actually shown, it never does work. The best I can ever hope for, and most I can ever manage to get, is a cold trickle of water, preferably coming out of the shower head. At times though, showering with the water from the tap in the sink is the easiest option. Which is awkward enough when washing a mop of hair. 

It wasn’t that the hotel was a cheap, run down, old place either. It supposedly is a 4 star but I’d say 3 max. Nice though. And they oddly gave me almost a half price discount. Seeing as they somehow presumed I was from the Aran Islands? Which I obviously was, when the lady asked, so I got a chunky discount. Another weird thing about the hotel, and I have noticed this in other places too, is the way they still supply shower hats, but not toothpaste. I presume a lot more people would use toothpaste over the shower cap. Then again, seeing as it was there, I decided to make use of it. Just in case any water from the sink splashed up unexpectedly, while I had my sink shower.

When traveling around place to place on my own, trying to keep the dream alive, I have far too much time to ponder about all this vital stuff. Such as, the fact that I am not the fan of public bathrooms. Then again, who is, really? Not saying I have agoraphobia or anything. I just doubt that if someone was to be asked, where their favourite place in the world might be, they would actually reply “The bathroom down the local bus station”. This week, issues with moving bathrooms have cropped up. At least with stationary public bathrooms, you can walk away, eventually, from the problem e.g getting locked into one. Moving bathrooms, however, tend to be moving with you for a while, so the problem stays longer.

This stems from a few incidents this week. One was on the bus to Galway. Seated half way down the bus, I realized I was in fact next to the bathroom. Happy days. Made no difference really, until one special guy went in, about an hour into the journey. Not really sure what he was doing, but it sounded like he was given birth to a monkey in there. Honestly, the loudness of his grunting et al, was audible to most of the bus. When he eventually came out of there, after a lengthy birth, he was greeted with a few laughs and claps from randomers (I presume) on the bus. Which he managed to laugh at. And, he also had the last laugh. Particularly on myself and the guy next to me. Who got lumped with the odor for the final 2 hours of the trip. Happy days.

A similar incident occurred on the train up to Dublin. A quite unfortunate incident. A quite good looking Spanish girl was sitting next to me on the train. And she was wearing what I think are called groin high boots. That was not the unfortunate part. Or the bit that our small talk here and there went well. The unfortunate part was that after I woke up from a kip, I went to the bathroom. Which was occupied. Unfortunately, the same Spanish girl emerged from the bathroom. Where, it appeared, she had given birth to a rhino. It was horrendous. Obviously cant be fully sure it was her, but as no one else was around, and it was so immediate, she was guilty by association. When I sat back down, those boots, and her smile, just no longer had the same charm. Then again, me unknowingly leaving my zip undone, was probably equally as charming for her. Win win. 

End of my gibber-issues. Tomorrow shall be back on track to pursuing the dream. Time to re-focus, starting with the blog! Two songs to well and truly chill one out.

If you didn’t download it from the link the other day…

Boy 1904

Boy 1904 - Jonsi & Alex

And a song from a supposedly class song writer, never heard of him until recently… You Saved My Life – Cass McCombs

About these ads

Touring

2 Comments

If I thought my traipsing all over L.A was tough enough, it is far harder back here in Ireland. At least in L.A, I found myself a hub (WeHooooo) where I could walk to most places. Even if it was an hour’s walk away. On Google’s map paper, it is well do-able. The problem is that while being back in Ireland, I am based out of Cork. Where not too much happens, in the world I am just to bust into. So, meetings are usually held in Dublin. Weekly trips to Dublin are actually a good laugh, don’t mind them. Sometimes though, conveniently, meetings are held in Galway too it seems. The day after a meeting in Dublin perhaps. Handy, handy. Tours of Ireland are always fun.

Best part of all, is the way one gets from Galway to Cork… bus on! Train to Dubla from Cork. Bus to Galway, wifi on-board, from Dublin. Then a bus back down to Cork from Galway, as there seems to be no other way. 

I have realized that the problem I am developing in Cork is slipping back into my old routines too easily. The rut is calling me! More and more programs of mine are now being recorded on Sky Plus. My sleeping patterns and daily activities are heading back the way I was before I headed to L.A. I have also noticed that I am not seeing hot, new women while out in Cork. Same as before so! Era shur, I’m only joking! There are plenty of hot women from Cork. Just no new hot women in Cork.

Getting the train up to Dublin, I started to wonder was it really worth it. Going up to Dublin, to drop in a 5 minute DVD, that really the postman could’ve done. But, just to be sure it got there on time, and to try and make another good impression when I met the person, I thought it would be best to head up and hand it in, in person. Great call. Fleeced by a company in Dublin to burn one DVD. €25 for a 5 minute DVD (not even fully 5 minutes) of my stand-up “highlights”, ha, so far back in Ireland. At the time I was in such a rush that it never clicked. Now though, all those helpful smiles and best of luck comments, and then charge me that much. Some joke. You can buy 6 copies of Superbad in Golden Discs for 24 bones. And, more importantly, that DVD is actually funny.

This morning I headed off to give Rita my DVD. Pumped, yet shattered from lack of sleep and being up so early. It was a highly strange combo. Anyways, I get to the place nice and early, unlike me. My good intentions did not quite go to plan. I was asked to have it in before a meeting that was going ahead on Thursday morning. As it turns out, I was far too early for the lady who wanted the DVD, before she went to the meeting to show it to others. I’ll wait around. Yeah, she should be in, in about 2 hours time maybe. Not too sure. Good stuff. Just wait around. In the end, I just met a girl who works with her, and gave her the DVD instead. I am an efficient postman if nothing else. All the way up to Dublin, for nothing. Some waste of time. 

Next port of call was onto Galway. Meeting with Tina on Friday, plus an informal meeting with a director/producer. Network on at the Film Festival and all that! I arrive into Galway at about 5.30 from Dublin, go straight to my hotel, and check my emails. The job, received an email at almost exactly at the time I arrived into Galway, telling me that my meeting with Tina, scheduled for the next day, was cancelled for some reason. The funking berries. I was giving the person’s phone number instead, and could do it over the phone if I like. Wuu. A phone call. Can’t they be made from Cork too?

Touring Ireland for absolutely no reason. Reading that email made me feel like a complete idiot. Being honest, I was pretty close to a nervous breakdown. I could feel my mind frying. Instead of letting that happen, I ended up just trashing my hotel room. T.V out the window, messed the sheets around a bit, and left the toilet sit up. It was a mess. Well I did all but one of those things. 

However, luckily, I can be a clever idiot at times. For some reason, my brain kicked in. Sent an email to the lady in charge of the festival. One thing led to another. Ended up being invited  for drinks, a meet and greet, before a big dinner that was going on in a hotel near mine. And, conveniently, the person I came up to Galway to meet, would be at the drinks shindig. I could now meet him there instead. Wuu huu. Time to bring out the charm!

Thankfully, the informal meeting, in the quiet corner of the packed room, went very well. More information has been asked for, interest shown, up to me to deliver, blah baa baa. That 20 minute meeting made the two days of traipsing around the country well worth it. Celebrate the small victories kind of thing. Did a bit more networking for myself while at the drinks shindig. Directors, producers, and even a gay couple, who looked a lot like the couple from Mexico, were all giving me their business cards. Speaking of which, I still need to get my own made up. It is below buying a new pen on the to-do list. I just gave them my blog address in return. A mighty calling card!

Something else kind of made the 2 days of touring all seem worthwhile. Night ended normal enough. Kind of. Some guy I recognized from t.v, real country guy, no clue of his name though, started singing Dirty Old Town with me at the bar in a rowing club (random enough?). Apparently I was singing it to myself (again… ? Maybe a defense mechanism for knowing no one at these things) So, he decided, in between asking me questions in Irish, that we should both horse into a full on song. Good laugh, arm in arm with him at the bar. Me sober. Him paralytic. Me departing. Him falling off the stool. Me coming back to write my business card address on his hand. All about the networking, making my mark.

There was a better point in there that would’ve wrapped it all up nicely. However, due to being tired beyond belief, it eludes me at this moment. So, a song will have to do…

Best Coast

Sun Was High (So Was I) - Best Coast