Dance, Munkey, Dance!


Radio and I have been mixing like oil and water for the past week. Pre-book launch promo. Flurry of stints on different radio shows around Ireland. All of which went, eh, magnifique. Eventually. First station. Off to a flyer. Arranged to ring me at 2:30 pm, Irish time/6.30am, my time. Up anyways, editing, rewriting, half six, no problem. Spread the word to people I knew. Tune in, here’s a link, this station, tune in everyone, tune on, hear me here, at this time, listen to me gibber. Spreading mhy word. Six in the morning, an email arrives in the door. Interview pushed back an hour. Cool, no worries. Although. Balls. First interview of the bunch, already I’m crying like a wolf.

Red Riding

Eh, apologies folks. Actually make that one hour later. Tune in then still though, it’ll be mighty! Listen on. One hour and ten minutes later, call comes in. Do the interview. About 10 – 15 minutes of rusty dancing. Gibber jabber gibber dish. Rattled off what I wanted to say. That’s great! Cheers for that! We’ll edit it down slightly, and it’ll be played sometime this week on the Morning Show. Cool, no worries, wait… what… that wasn’t live? No. Really? Magnificent work once more. Seeing as people had tuned in. Listened. To the afternoon show. Specifically. Classic Golden Olden Hits. Mighty stuff. Wolfaruu, wherrre arrre youuu?

I'm On A Horse

Next night. Producer of a different radio show emailing me back and forth beforehand. Bullets for the way it would go… ‘We’ll start here, move along to that, finish off on this’. Cool, guide on. ‘Can’t wait. Read the blog. Sounds mad. Mad altogether. You’re mad. We’re mad. Mad for it!’ Oook, sounds, eh… fun, is it live, not recorded? It is. Cool. Ring on. Half four in the morning, locked in my cave, re-writing, mind off wandering… Dring, dring, oh yeah, balls… Hello… ‘MADDDDDD! We’re mad for it! Mad. For. IT!!! Tell us something mad!’ Pardon me, wait… ‘Right now over in LA, what are you doing? Tell us something mad.’ Right now… I am having a cup of tea. Pretty mad. ‘Cup of tea?! What does that mean in LA’ It means, I am drinking tea from a cup. Pre-tty mad. Especially now I’ve discovered I actually like leaving the tea-bag in the cup. Can you believe that?! I never thought I’d like that! As in never, I always take it out. Now I leave it in! Only happened yesterday by accident as well, pretty mad, right?!

Oh my God, are you on something, have you just been out all night?’ Pardon. ‘Are you on drugs?’ No, why, are you? Which is when I heard the producer saying off-air that she thinks I’m definitely on something. ‘Moving on so. Come on, Oscar weekend… LA… madness… we all want to know… what did you do today that was mad?! Give us something mad!!!’ What’s with all this madness?! What kind of mad do you want? Orgy mad? Gay horse mad? We can go down that route if you like? ‘You are on drugs’… Which is when I should’ve said… No, you ape, I’m not on drugs. I’m on a funking horse. Should’ve. Instead, before I could spit out – Are you hanging up on me – the interview was cut off. Mighty stuff. Cherry on top, my phone was left on loud-speaker, so I managed to hear a little chunk of them taking the piss out of me. Before the producer realised I was still on, and then all I heard was ‘Oh shi… beeeeep.’

Munkey. You Can Dance!

Another high-flyer of an interview. Dumb enough. For thinking I would just be guided along, held by the hand. Instead of me just rattling off story after story, dictating where the conversation went. Naive. Tired. Spaced. As if I was on the phone to a buddy. Too tired to fully explain my sentences… Ah just read the blog, or I’ll tell you tomorrow. Ah yeah, I forgot I was on air. Getting cornered. Forgot about doing the monkey dance for you. My bad. Dance munkey, dance. Smack those cymbals. No-one will smack them for you. So instead of dancing like a munkey, I ended up just sounding like an ape. On drugs. Talking about gay horses. Orgies. And my new tea-bagging method. Doing my book mighty justice. Although, it is about mad cups of tea, so no harm done there.

10,000 Green Bottles

Speaking of book – which is still dominating me like a little freak – I’ve been getting close to finishing this draft. Final, more or less. Counting words. Cleverly frustrating thing to do. Ape. Flying for a few nights. 20,000 left. 16,000. 13,000 words. Down to 9,000 words to go. So close. Last night. Worked. Wrote. Waded. Wriding. Adding. Changing. Chopping. Brain through the mire. Digging out of the swamp. Scribbering down 3,000 words more. Mighty. Pumped. Slept for three hours. Woke up. Realised I’ve 12, 000 words left to re-write. Those 3, 000 words were all new stuff. Actually going backwards. When you are a word counter.

Swamping. Frustration. Book re-write progress not going as quickly as I thought, slowing down. Am I a simpleton?! Shaking my head at myself. Stupid interviews. Funk them. Funk that. Mixed with a few nights out. Hungover. Self loathing. You are a simpleton! Until. Book swamp cleared a bit. And the interviews improved. After those two, I was dancing! Well, besides that one guy who hoped for Perez Hilton. Side stepped that, finally my munkey and I were dancing on the same page. Selling. Flogging. Monkey and an ape. Together as one. Frustration gone. Back to happy. Happy that I was not a full on simpleton.

Polar Bear

Week full of small events. Bringing a wide range of emotions. Frustration to pleasure. Making me question something about myself. Going to bed thinking one thing. Waking up thinking the polar opposite. Telling people it’s one way. Finding out it’s another. Deep down not really knowing the truth. Lying to people. Unintentionally. Living the life of a fraud. Not showing people who I really am. Leaning towards one way big time at some points. Exact opposite soon after. All of which lead me to ask myself: Am I bi?

Polar. Bi-polar, obviously. Frustrated and annoyed, to happy and pumped, so quickly?! Jesus, I think I am bi! And then I did actually think about it. Too easy an excuse. Probably not bi. Nay, just an ape. Who could do with some sleep. Along with finishing some book. Which shall now be done. Final stretch. No more stopping for life, DJigs or Oscar Wilde. Blogaruus might have to be held off with until she is done. Gutting news, I know. 10,000 to go. Aiming for 1,000 an hour. Next ten hours could be huge! I am a simpleton. Bi off, songs on…

I Could Go – Oberhofer

Flash Delirium – MGMT

Dominos – Chris Lake & Michael Woods

2 thoughts on “Dance, Munkey, Dance!

  1. Damn, sounds like you are following a check list for that book. A pretty strict one at that. I thought writing was supposed to be free and easy, a going with flow type thing. Sure you aren’t sabotaging your words?

    As for the interviews, I didn’t hear them but it sounds like you were just being yourself and there aint nothin wrong with that!

    Talk on!

    • Ha, free and easy all the way! Say the first draft was 75,000, roughly. Second one about 78,000. People seem to want to hear anything besides ‘I don’t have a funking clue how much longer to go’. So now, for this one, I am counting down from 78,000, which is the only reason I’m using the barometer of ‘how many to go’ when people ask. The fact I keep adding stuff and making the flow, flow even better, keeps adding to the word count. So I was on ‘eh about 10,000’ for three days. Not a clue will have to come back again.

      Radio off, TV on!

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