One week ago, I realised two things. One. My bedroom is the quietest place ever created. My pillow screams at me. That kind of quiet. Too quiet to sleep. That kind of quiet. Tough life, I know. Seriously though. Come sleep in my bed. The quietness is deafening. Tough life. Moving on. Secondly. I’ve slipped. Fallen. Into a routine. Step by step. Particularly mornings. Wake up. Get out of bed. Right side. Literally. Walk around my bed. Over to my laptop. Turn it on. Open the blinds. Open the window. Fix my bed. Pick up my laptop. Go to the bathroom. Surf. Hotmail. BBC Football. Gmail. Blog. Facebook. Twitter. Kitchen. Bowl. Porridge. Microwave. Drink some water. Drink some more. Ding. Porridge. Coffee. Chug. Water. Brush my teeth. Clothes on. And away I go.
Whittle Me This
Off to whittle away my day. Gibber aboot. Follow up. DJigs. Fruitless. Walk home. Kill. Fill. Whittle some more. Eat. Write a few emails. Knock on a few online doors. Go to the gym. Come home. Whittle one last time. Write some gibberish. Go to bed. Well done. Mighty day. Whittled that down nicely. Good to see a new routine is in place. Two thumbs. Not a productive day. Tuesday. Decided no more. White abyss needs to be properly filled up. No longer in the book zone. Now hiding in this new whittling zone. Reminds me of when I first arrived in L-Hey. Time to giddy up out of it. Whittling. Running. Circling. Busy? Ish. Fool? Ish all the way. More needs to be done. Changes are needed. Smarten up. Comb my hair. Already changed to Calvins. Y’s up. Owl on.
I know that something is definitely up. Amiss. I can feel it. Just not sure exactly what it is. Take Thursday. Meeting with an agent. Went well. However, getting there and back, took an hour. As I walked. If I drove, barely 5 minutes. Plus another twenty minute break after the walk back to my apartment. Not really right. Something’s amiss. Killing and filling up that time. One productive hour. Mixed with one hour of walking. Half the productive buzz. Needs to change. Although, saying that, what a load of gibber. Walking feeds me stories. Thursday morning. Got a text. “I’ll be in your area today. Give me a call, we must meet up!!” Random number. Not saved in my phone. Getting a few off them lately. Slight suspicion who it might be. Three possibilities. Mandates off. Woman dates off. Agent meeting, priority. Ignored the text. Blatantly. Forgot about it. Obviously. Dodging. All the way.
Walking to my meeting. Ambling along. Hear someone calling someone. Same name as me. Maaaaaarkkk! Unusual. Big time. Presumed it wasn’t me. Walked on. Ignored the call. Heard my surname. Pardon me? Looked down the street. Saw someone waving at me. Who’s that? Odd, I think I recognise him. From Cork. Oh. Right. That’s who sent me that text. That’s who I dodged. What are the odds we would just randomly bump into each other on the deserted streets of LA. So that was you who texted me?! I had no clue. I swear. Ending with us doing shots of tequila a couple hours later. Never good. Particularly with it still being bright outside. However, another example of the randomness from walking. Would not have happened if I had been driving. Walk on. For the time being. Dodge on.
Maybe I know vaguely where my problem lies. Maybe I’m just dodging acknowledging it, as it annoys me that it does annoy me. Let’s say I have two priorities. One is trying to get to the next stage of my plan. Blog – > Book -> Sitcom -> Movie. And the other is making sure I always have enough money to pay rent. Ha, that’s it. Two priorities. Enjoying myself along the way never hurts. I can do that for free at least. Perhaps the second priority is where things are amiss. Seeing as I have started to equate issues back to funds. For example. Dumb. Tom. Petty. Pretty soon I must head back to Ireland for book promotions et al. Instead of being fully pumped about going back to Ireland (for my book promotions!) my mind is pondering small stuff, like the cost of flights. Cough up. Other expenses. Rent while I’m gone. All together. Costing me this that and the other arm. Grumble. Cough. Splutter. As I said. Dumb. Ish. Pointless. Worry. Something is amiss.
Sound. Week. Man.
Perhaps I need more tangibles. Tangibles which bring me that thing called money. Patience time, I do believe. Nudging steps forward last week. Last week was a week of sounds good. Meeting the right people. Looks like I actually have a manager. Looks like I have a good commercial agent. Looks like I’ll be meeting a literary agent this week. Looks like I might have a few more pretty good DJigs in the pipeline. All sounds good. This week looks like another week of meetings. Knocking. Whittling. Running. Following up. Chasing along. Potentially a good week. Potentially. Unfortunately. Last week was a weak week with regards my second priority. Making me realise that the out continues to pummel the in. Reverse the flow! Limbo living. All walks of life. Unstable. Unknown. Which may be that some thing.
On the upside, I was told last week that my book has finally gone to print. Giddy up. Book on. Tangible all the way. Now. Time to horrendously tie a knot in this. Wiser. Owl. Wise old owl. Ehh. Did you know. I once recited a poem about an owl. As a wedding speech. On a beach. In Mexico. I knew the bride. And her sister. Couple hundred people sat and scratched their heads. Struggling to understand me. And my accent. Quite an amazing final piece of gibber. On that petering note, time to peter out…
Mary, Mary. You Contrary Ape.
Quick edit. Seeing as I wrote the rest last night. About 2 in the morning. Sunday night. Might have had a bit of the Fear for company. Fear. Rent. Fearent. Tasty cocktail. Let’s call it my one blogaruu a month to vent. Usually happens towards the very end of the month. When I get grouchy. And I’m waiting on cheques to arrive. Which don’t. So I start being an ape. Called Mary. Who likes a moan. Should’ve really went down the route of recalling the past few nights of fun. Can’t all be fun and games I do suppose. Actually. It can. Although I just had a mirror image day today. Oh Mondanes. Mary off. Songs on!
Dancing On My Own – Robyn
Celestica – Crystal Castles