Finishing the book is the goal at the momento. The only goal. Revising, chopping, writing, editing, cluelessness… a mighty hoot! Although, I’ve realised I’m not really a fan of reading back over all my mistakes to be true, ha. Onwards and upwards. And at various points I’ve at least recognised a need to focus. Recognition. Now would be as good as any time to recognise that once more! However, New Year’s resolutions, not really a fan. Lucky if they make it out of January alive. Quickly dismissed. Fully disappear as the year goes on. Should’ve done that. Next year. Continued on for years and years. Learn Spanish? Learn a few songs on the old gee-tar? Still going strong since 1999! Wuu. Another way to fool myself. Perhaps it’s because I keep them to myself. And, as a result, less accountable for them. However, this time last year I had no blogaruu. Re de de, no little pink diary for myself. And now, I do. Duu! Continue Reading »
Off the top of my head, odd things which I have a slight clue about, is how to speak conversational Cantonese, particularly if you’re a taxi man from Hong Kong, and I have a clue how to dismantle, clean, and operate a Naval machine gun. Pretty strange I suppose, only 2 I can think of at the moment. On the other hand, one bizarre thing which I am completely clueless about, is how exactly the acting side of the business works in Ireland. Specifically, how one might go about trying out a few auditions, just to get some practice. Not a notion. Are there any? Where might they be? Not a clue. In L.A, obviously enough, providing you have a visa and all, auditions, how to submit yourself, open calls etc. can be easily found in abundance. However, in Ireland, as far as I can tell, there seems to be nothing. As in, nothing. I am confident that I am actually wrong. However, after a fruitless few attempts today trying to figure it out, I have come to the conclusion that there is nada.
Who do you ask? Unfortunately, for a change, it seems not Google. He will not deliver as well as he usually does. And when you don’t know too many people in the acting business (t.v or film sides anyways), Google might be your first and last call. Maybe if you’re looking for a course in acting, Google can hook you up. If you want the websites for the Irish Film Board, the Irish Film Centre, or anything like that, Google will deliver. “Acting auditions in Ireland” or some similar term typed might hook you up with an audition in Iowa, and other parts of America, for some reason, but not much in Ireland. Not the most helpful. The best I got was a list of casting agencies in Ireland, that either never existed, or that most seem to no longer be in business.
I know as well, that if you were young, just out of school maybe and wanted to start acting from scratch in Ireland, there’s the whole doing an acting course, getting in some theatre work, moving up the ladder that way, doing it as something on the side and wading it out for a big break. Which, it seems, if you stay in Ireland and hope to get, the most you might muster in the movie world is to be an extra on the set of War of the Buttons, or The Wind That Shakes The Barley. Better still, you might end up being an extra for something even bigger, like Braveheart or along those lines. Which would be good to say to people, I suppose. If I was 16.
Do a course, join a theatre group, start that way. Or, be an extra, along with thousands of others, hoping that you will be plucked out of the crowd for your ability to stand around better than others. And pray you then make an impression. Preferably a good one. As you might gather from these scenarios, I don’t really have a clue. Either way, neither of the two above are really great options. Neither are really options if I’m being honest. Not for me at least while I am back in Ireland.
I remember the one full time actress I spoke to since I have been back, told me that if you want to do any acting in Ireland, t.v or film work anyways, you need to go to London. Apparently you have a far better chance of getting an audition for a show even like Fair City, if you were based in London, than if you were based in Dublin. Which is very heartening to know. Especially when you’re mostly based in Cork while you wait to hopefully sort out a visa back to L.A. Her beliefs proved to be spot on after my attempts today. In this day and age, if the information is not online, then it is probably looking dodge. At least now I am a bit more clued in. Slightly. Acting will have to be kept on ice for a while.
With that in mind, I turned my attentions back to writing today. As I’ve said before, you can thankfully do that anywhere. In theory anyways. Preferably, I’d like to do it in places where the inspiration is over-flowing, i.e not really here. Still though, with a combination of perseverance and dedication, along with some weird thing called patience, that mental barrier can be overcome. At least, thats the great advice Google provided me with today. He would not leave me hanging in the writing department! Go on the Google!!!
Temperature wise, the extreme heat wave here in L.A seems to be over. However, I will not lie, between you, me, and the garden path, I am going through a bit of a dry spell myself. It has been a few days, ha. Some heat. Which has been made all the worse by the carry on the last few days.
On Wednesday, after contemplating going to My House (US Weekly were having a big event though and my buddy on the door was off for the night, so nay go there), then perhaps Disco Dodgeball (exactly what you think it might be, however in the end my knee ruled me out), I ended up going for a random third option and went to a house club in Hollywood. Which was cool enough, and seemed like a normal club. No celebs in there, girls weren’t asking you who you were, they were more interested in where the accent was from, back to basics!
So I am outside in the smoking room with a guy I play soccer with. We are speaking at the top of our voices, throwing our accents around like a girl with tassive mits might do, seeing what we could reel in. And it worked a treat, “Where are you from, really, I R Land, oh my God, no way, you’re a priest, that’s so cool!” The night was going well, two girls could not get enough of me telling them they were horrific looking, they were far from it being honest, and when I told one she needed to shave her shoulders, it tipped her over the edge. “Oh my Gawd, you’re so funny, you have to come back to our place after this, the three of us have to party together!” Who, just the two of ye, and me? “Yeah, are you not allowed being a priest?!!” Oh sweet Lord, play it cool, was I jumping the gun presuming this, no, surely not, surely, finally, was this going to be the Holy Grail of a threesome, the two girls were offering me to come back to their place, and the night was still young, let me check my watch, not yet one o’clock.
Balls. I remembered at this point that I was due to do a radio interview for a Cork station at 1.10 my time here, 9.10 back in Cork. I was outside in the smoking room, but it was still loud, music pumping, it was going to be tough to hear the call or for them to hear me. So, I told the girls I would be back in two minutes, I just have to go outside to take a call. Oh, and I can’t wait to come party with both of ye later, sounds savage. Back in two minutes, hang on here, I’ll be right back, down move. I scuttle back into the club, force my way all the way through, tell the bouncer I’ll be just outside for two minutes, and I’ll be back in. All of this was a bit of effort seeing as the club was full to the brim. Anyways, I am outside by 1.10, waiting for the call. Waiting. No call. Wait some more. No call. It is about 1.20, and I am standing outside a club on Hollywood Boulevard with my phone in my hand, no one ringing me, feeling like a complete ape.
I get proactive, and like a fool, I ring them, freaking to myself about my credit. Oh sorry Mark, big news here, Roy Keane has just been appointed manager of Ipswich, I was just about to call you, we’re having Eamonn Dunphy on first, then you, sound good? I was being bumped an hour. The job. I hang up, back to the bouncer, I was just inside, you didn’t give me a stamp, I was, seriously, you just saw me leaving, cool, am I good, finally. Back through the crowd of people on the dance floor, back outside to the smoking room, back out to my buddy and the gir… where did those two girls go? “Where did you go mate, you just f**ked off after they asked you back to their place later, the girls left, not sure where they are gone to now, they thought they scared you off being a priest!” No funking way. No way. Seriously? No way. You’re lying. Seriously? For funk’s sake, I’m some ape. How did the radio thing go? It didn’t!!! Did they just leave… nooo, Keanoooo, nooooo!!!
Back inside to the club, do one (two) quick laps of the club to see if I can find the girls, no joy, straight to the bar, line up the shots, never good when highly annoyed. The night has dipped unexpectedly but they weren’t the only two girls in the club, it can still be saved. If I wasn’t an ape. Trying to do a bit of dancing (good old shots) with an Aussie girl, getting into a rhythm, bodies swaying, legs interlinked, knees twisting, oh sweet Jesus my knee. A combination of her and the crowd off the dance floor hit off my knee, it buckles, she steps back away from me, I fall down on one knee, kneeling in pain for what seems like an age but probably only about a minute on the dance floor, good God what a horrendous night. Few more drinks with the soccer buddy, one final lap of the club for the girls with the lights on to make sure, no joy, obviously, cab home, just as I get out the phone rings, all I can think of while doing it is about the missed opportunities, done and dusted, and I am home, alone, reeking, horrendous night.
The next night, I had another acting class to audit, for free, I think that may have been the last one at that school. I have actually been to this class before, it is the nutter class where everyone cries, a lot (In The Shower. Singing. In French. Crying. Go!) As with all classes, the teacher introduces himself (re-introduces, he half recognizes me but I played dumb, not too hard for me) and tells me to enjoy the class, observe, and if you see something you like or want to try out the exercises, join in with it, its all up to you.
Sounds good, I’ll just observe to start with. Again, everyone is scattered all over the room, doing different warming up techniques and exercises. All of which seem to involve crying and punching your arms out saying “Huuuuhhhhh”. Freaks me out, but not as much as the first time. Until one girl, facing me but a few feet away, suddenly opens her eyes and punches the air with a “Huuuuhhh” while staring at me, then bursts into tears. Oh Jesus, did I do something, no, I forgot, thats just their thing to do, nutters.
There I am, in a room full of people crying, huhhing away, when I hear a familiar cry and wail, it’s the girl who sang the last time. She is wailing for dear life, sobbing like mad, freaking out, it is like she is possessed. She calms down a bit, and starts panting, and moaning, as if she is having an orgasm. Then the crying starts again, the teacher is telling her to calm down, be happy (more tears), be excited (even more tears), be sad (orgasm time). She is not the best looking girl in the class, or even outside the class, but she is sitting behind me, so all I hear is her moaning, and panting, slowly, deeply, and the heat kicks in again, ha! Eventually she tails off into a song, which sounds like a French version of Baa Baa Black Sheep.
I decide to observe other people. Bad idea. An Asian girl is after rolling around the room and ended up on the floor in front of me, doing the “exploration exercise” with “extreme heat” on top. So she starts to feel the imaginary heat beat down on her, rolling around the floor in front of me, and starts to whip off her top. Slowly pulling it over her head, eyes closed the whole time, wriggling on the floor, doing the splits, oh sweet Lord for your own sake stop, off comes the top, she’s now in her bikini top and jeans, wriggling on the floor, slightly tugging at her jeans as if they are too warm for her to wear. I was told to observe, so felt it would’ve been rude not to look.
Next minute I hear the panting from behind me again, Baa Baa Black Sheep must’ve ended. So as I am observing a hot girl wriggle around the floor in front of me, stripping down, doing the splits and all sorts of maneuvers, all I can hear from behind me is a girl panting, moaning, building up a head of steam in French. Oh sweet Jesus, this is to much, teacher, TEACHER, what did you mean by “Join in if I see something I’d like to try”?!!!!
Just as I am taking off my shoes and socks about to join in, the teacher rudely stops the warm up, and tells us it it time for this week’s scenes. Give me just 5 more minutes to warm up! No? My mind has drifted for the rest of the class, but I must admit, this acting malarky is growing on me more and more.
The nights here can get quite chilly, so they can, do the walk home cools me off. At least I got a 10 minute reprieve. Just as I reach my entrance, I notice a lot of commotion at the top of my street. There are four television trucks getting ready outside the club that had been shut since I moved in, I did notice that there were a few hot girls making their way towards the place earlier. Might as well go check it out, I’ll ask a bouncer for the inside scoop. What’s going on here, grand re-opening? There was a big fire, I did not know that. What actually is the name of the place? The Body Shop? What kind of club is it? Pardon? A strip club? Right next to my house? Good work.
Always good to have a place like that next door, purely because the security guys now outside will make this safe neighborhood, even safer, obviously. Actually, before I forget, I think I must go up there right now, for good reason too. I was told it used to be an Irish bar, so must see if that is true or false. And I must ask them if they might perhaps need a DJ, I am willing to work there for free as well. I’ll come straight home once I find those two things out. Straight home.
Two songs, one in honour of the girl in the acting class, could well actually be her “singing” at the end (if you’re too impatient fast forward to the last minute if you don’t know it)… French Kiss by Lil Louis
And one with a great title…My Night With The Prostitute From Marseille by Beirut
The heat in L.A for the past few days has been fun-funking-real, it has been ridiculously warm, record temperatures. I had an acting class on Tuesday night, so I chose that that would be my most productive part of the day. However, I also chose not to use my brain much more that day as I seemed to forget about previous errors. Even though I knew it was roasting outside, and knew from the week before that it would be roasting in the acting studio, plus the fact that I should really have learnt from my previous mistake, I still somehow wore a light blue t-shirt to the class. Coincidence, maybe. Stupidity, definitely.
Luckily for me and my dodgy knee, the class is close by, walking distance from my house. Half way there, it started to kick in how hot it still was, even though it was almost 7. This kicked off the whole why did I wear this t-shirt, I am feeling the heat this soon, great colour to show it off. I contemplated going home to change quickly, opted not to, late as it was with my dodgy knee holding me back, I better hurry. And hurry I did, as fast as I could. Trying so fast, and being so focused, to get to the class on time, I almost ran/hobbled right into a dog and the owner outside the acting studio entrance, straight up the stairs, into class, hadn’t started yet, on time, wuu huu.
Sat down at the back, most of the other seats were taking, squeezed in between two girls. Got ready in my seat, and started to feel the flushes of heat coming on from the dead air in the studio, it was like a sauna. Then noticed I was already roasting from rushing there. I then noticed that there was some smell of s**t, who the funk was that off, the heat in the room was making it even worse too. The two girls either side of me seemed to notice as well. The teacher coughs to indicate time to start the class and first scene. We’re all looking at each other, shrugging shoulders, do you smell that? Yeah, me too, what the funk, who or what is making that smell… why are they both looking at me? Sniff sniff, it does seem strong from where I’m sitting, that’s weird. Good God this heat is too much, the smell is over bearing, why did I wear a light blue t-shirt again, and where is the smell coming from?!! Why have both girls tried to move their seats away a bit, let me check, oh that’s it, good work, there’s a big pile of dog s**t on the sole of my right runner.
The class has started, everyone has hushed to watch the first scene to be critiqued, I can’t leave now and wash it off, I can only sit there in the heat, sweating buckets, stinking the place out with my runner, and watch. It is a 4 hour class, and I know from the last class that the only break is half way, sorry girls, I apologize in advance.
Thankfully, the first dude up in front of the camera takes everybody’s mind off everything else one could possibly think of, and just think “What the funk is going on?” Its the annoying guy from last week, the Antonio Banderas/Jesus from the big Lebowski dude. He is on stage so to speak, warming up for the scene apparently, doing weird yoga movements and flailing arm movements, wearing his boxers and a shower cap. The teacher gives him an action, and he just stares at the crowd (us). We look back to see him in the action. But he just keeps on staring, intensely, as if its a will of nerves. The teacher gives him another “Go, action!”. Still nothing. Eventually the camera man stands up, waves at him, go buddy, you’re up, come on to funk! He snaps out of it, takes the shower cap off, puts back on his clothes, and says he is good to go now. I am fairly sure everyone is thinking… Why were you stripped down wearing just your boxers and a shower cap if it was not part of the scene?!!!!
Lights, camera, action, go… and then I see the weirdest performance I think I will ever see. Jesus starts doing a scene that involves him putting on make-up, lipstick, tights, and speaking Spanish. I presume everyone else is also thinking now.. he must be playing a Spanish transvestite. Apparently not. When the scene is over, the teacher more or less asks him, what the funk was that? A Spanish transvestite? No, don’t insult me, Jesus replies. Ok, explain so. This is where it gets a bit Tropic Thunder… he was actually speaking English, and is playing a role of a woman who is pretending to be another woman. So, he is a guy pretending to be a woman, who is in fact pretending to be another woman. No-one can still understand what is going on, so the teacher asks a simple question… Why did you choose this role?!
“Hummmmmm, I did not choose this role, the role chose me. I do not choose to be an actor, I am merely an instrument for this art. The art chose me” To be honest, I was impressed with his waffling, bulls**t answer, how could you not admire such crap. In fairness, he could talk a good game. However, all he did the week before was critique other people and be ridiculously annoying. This week, later in the class he is the exact same, humming at people, interrupting the teacher whenever good points are being made… I did not pay good money to listen to your hummms!!! Oh yeah, I didn’t actually pay for this class, wuu huu! When Jesus did the scene again, one more go to do it better this time, he was just as bad as the first go, if not worse. Which led me to believe my theory is still right, bad actors are apes. They must think I am some muppet, ha.
Next scene was highly boring. A German guy and an Australian girl did some random scene, which bored me senseless. And also seemed to bore the girl next to me. Who was quite hot. So, when the scene finished up, and to make sure she didn’t doze off, I sparked off some small talk. That was fairly brutal, I was almost asleep listening to his monotone voice, you know… “That is my bruder, what are you trying to say?” Balls, I knew she had a German look off her. Oh, I mean, your bruder wasn’t bad, it was just this heat, and the monotone, and… that smell of s**t is not actually me by the way, there was this dog outside, and… She doesn’t care, she thinks I am an ape, ha. What do I really think of your bruder’s work? I stepped in it outside!
Luckily, it was time for a break. When I came back from outside and sat at my seat, I noticed that the two girls either side of me had moved places, I wonder why, girls, I cleaned my runner during the break!!! In their place, Jesus, still wearing make-up from the scene he did, but thankfully, fully clothed. I thought the fresh air at the break might have helped the heat problem I was having, but nay, the buckets of sweat were still streaming out of me, it was like a sauna!!!
The teacher re-started the class asking questions, telling stories of relevance to the previous etc. He needed a scene example, to compare an example he gave, could anyone think of one? I had the perfect one in my head, from an episode of the Office I watched earlier that day. So when I piped up, the teacher hushed people down to let me speak. And the camera man/light man swung a light he was working on in my direction, for the laugh, he is a funny fellow. And I felt the eyes of the class descend. And the heat kick in. And remaining whiffs of the smell off my runner seemed to get worse at that moment. And while I told my example, I realized while speaking it out loud, that no, it was not really the example he was looking for, at all.
I might as well have had a fountain spurting water out of the top of my head at this moment. All of the above combined, had me dripping in sweat, lovely I know (I wasn’t the only one affected or anything, but it was bad). I’ll just finish up this scene example that actually isn’t what he was looking for at all, and we can all get back to the scenes. Until the teacher interrupts me, and asks if I am okay, am I sick? I’m great, not sick, it’s very hot though, woah, any air conditioning? “The Irish guy from last week, right?” Yes indeed, very hot isn’t it? “You re hungover man, that’s whats wrong with you, you Irish! Was it whiskey or Guinness, which one man? You are covered in the cold sweats, you need a drink, someone get him a Jameson!” Oh Jesus, I haven’t had a drink in days, this is not a hangover, I just can’t handle this heat, but seeing as you gave me an excuse, I will use it… Yeah, I am sooooo hungover, woah, too much whiskey with me leprechaun last night, holy begorra, us Irish huh, top o the morning, I’ll be fine, back to the scenes, toor a loor, everyone stop looking at me.
Got away with it, I think. After class I could see people no longer looked at me dripping in sweat like I was a weirdo. They now gave me a smile, and a knowing look, he’s okay, he’s Irish, that’s just drink sweating out of him. I was a bit dizzy by the end of the class, lost a lot of fluids after 4 hours in the sauna. Some sound, normal Swiss guy came up to me asking about the scene from The Office and started going on about stand-up. I had just signed up for my stand-up debut next week, so I was interested in the talk. He was going to see Sarah Silverman over the weekend, I should come along and get some pointers from her! Sounds good man, what day are you going? Not sure yet, ok text me shur, here’s my number, cool I’ll take yours too!! Can’t wait, text me so and let me know what day and the time. Where’s it on? Oh, I’m not sure where that is, I can meet you somewhere beforehand. Cool man, sounds good! Its a dat… balls. Its a man date. Oh Jesus. No, not that Jesus, he didn’t get the invite.
Here are two songs that I will hopefully cleverly mix tomorrow for my DJ set, re de de, it shall be good if it comes off, horrendous if I fail…
Lollipop by The Chordettes
Lolli Lolli (Morsy Mix) by Three 6 Mafia (I actually like this chorus for some reason)
Finally, a day to write home about. Today has been a turn-up for the books – productive, full to the brim, and almost nothing weird or stupid happened. Almost.
In L.A, it is all about the meetings. Meetings and projects. Everyone is having meetings, working on projects, or having meetings about projects. I too have meetings and projects everyday, but my projects seem to involve meetings that do not benefit me in the slightest. Not today though, the tables were turned.
I was up at the crack of dawn, about half 9, for a meeting I had this morning. Jumped out of bed, forgetting about my leg, and thought it was about to snap like a twig when I put weight on it. Down like a sack of potatoes I go, wasting valuable time. Not wanting to be late (again), I started to multi task to try and make up on lost time. This went well. While brushing my teeth, and listening to some spam voicemail on my phone, I decided to go to the bathroom at the same time, how hard could it be. Hard enough standing up with a brittle leg and dodgy knee. Phone on my shoulder and pressing my ear down on it to hold it safe, toothbrush in my mouth , and hips maneuvering around, things started off well.
Lasted about half a minute. My bathroom window is located across and a bit below somebody’s sitting room in the building next door. When I looked out the window casually, I saw a girl on the phone looking out her window. Our eyes met, I got a bit of a shock, the sudden movement sent a shudder through my knee, which caused me to buckle a bit, phone falls off my shoulder, I reach out to grab it, at the same time the toothbrush drops out of my mouth, I forget to reach for this, catch the phone, my toilet catches my toothbrush. The girl can see all this, I have no curtain in my bathroom, good work out of me. Flush the toilet, fish the toothbrush out, will I rinse it, ha, no, better dump it. Actually, on my budget a toothbrush is a luxury item, will I rinse it… no, I think she’s still looking, better dump it to keep up with the Joneses and all!
No time to waste mourning the loss of a dear friend, I scuttle off to my meeting. The meeting is with a writer/mentor guy I have met before who gave me great advice. Which I did not heed as much as I should have. I am given one last chance, make the meeting on the button for 11, good sign. I have my assignments ready, some are okay, I get grilled on other sections, it is brilliant though, exactly what I need to hear. I am then given an outline and map of what I need to do. I now have a list of 19 bullet points of things I need to do to get where I want to be. Some are big, others are small, but if I cover all bases, do what is required and what I know now is exactly needed to do, I think I can get to where I want to be. Which is a savage thing to have laid out in front of you. These bullets points range from stop being a procrastinating ape, to neutralizing my accent at times to make sure my point is not lost in translation. Every aspect was covered in the two hours. It was savage to hear it all. After the meeting I was funking pumped.
When I get back to my house, things got even better. I am offered a job from Thursday until Sunday. This day is going superbly well and its not even 2 o’clock. The job actually pays money too, depending on how many items I sell. And what is it that I shall be selling…? Shamwows! For anyone who doesn’t know what they are, enjoy this video.
Should be funny enough, I must study the guy’s facial expression and enthusiasm to make sure I sell enough of them to make some bobs. Shamwow on!!!
I was on a roll, surely I should just cut my losses and go to bed at 4 in the afternoon to make sure I didn’t ruin the day. However, about an hour later I find out that one of the acting classes I went to audit before I was in Mexico, are offering me to audit a few more classes if I like. Once again, for free, so I surely will (the classes cost almost $100 per class if you break it down so getting them for free is highly recommended). It is in the Lee Strasberg acting school, the scene of all the crying and nutters that actually turned out to be good in the end (if you don’t remember, read the madness here).
The class I am auditing is for TV and Film Acting. Sounds perfect. Except for the fact that, once again, the acting studio has no air conditioning, it is like a sauna. However, besides that, it is far and away the best class I have been to, it is brilliant! The teacher is young compared to all the other teachers so far (late 20’s), and he is definitely the best. No crap or bulls**t like all the others, his advice is spot on, and the direction he gives after seeing a scene once is savage, improves all the actors who are involved. Plus he gave interesting side stories, not boasting like some of others (for example, Heath Ledger used Clockwork Orange as his inspiration for the Joker, used to be playing all the time in his trailer during filming).
A downside was sitting next to a gimp, who kept eating popcorn and slurping a drink, claiming to not understand me when I asked him to stop, I am still working on the neutralizing part of my accent. And he kept, kept, kept panting and saying “Hmmmm” for no apparent reason, to himself. He was the spitting image of this dude from the Big Lebowski.
A German guy livened things up a good bit too. He had a scene prepared, which he actually did well, bar the fact he couldn’t make himself cry for the big finale. After the final effort he had at doing it – Cuuuut, next week maybe Jurgen – he freaked at himself that he couldn’t cry, and ended up freaking so much that his eyes watered up and he left the room whimpering, two minutes too late though. It was nuts but a good laugh to watch. Especially when he got some criticism and advice mixed up, lost in translation. The teacher told him… “You should treat your acting like the act of foreplay, don’t rush the key part and get it over with too quickly, build up to the crying part”. To which he got very offended by, and shouted out that he loves to eat the…, just ask his wife. Ha. The awkward silence that followed was worth going to the class alone, although myself and Jesus next to me couldn’t stop laughing. I have a bucket load of savage notes as well from the rest of the class, 4 hours long and only the last guy wasn’t the May West and a bit boring.
While reading over the notes I had taken on the hobble home, I missed a dip in the path, put all my weight on the bad knee, and faltered like James Brown. It was at this time, while kind of holding my knee and trying to recuperate, on the side of the street in the gay neighborhood that I live in, that two gay dudes in an Escalade pull up next to me, surely to see if I was alright. Window rolls down, a fat gay dude pops his fat gay head out “Hey baby, are you working?” Huh, yeah, how did you know? I got a job selling Shamwows toda… hang on a minute, what the funk do you mean?!!! “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, we thought you were, drive…” and the two apes drive off in a hurry. It’s only when they have taken off in a hurry that it dawns on me what had happened, the dopes. Although, although, it was haunted that I got the good news of the Shamwows job earlier that day, things were looking bleak! Ha. Hang on buddy, I never gave you the price list!!!
All in all, a productive day I must say, I need my sleep after it. Must just brush my teeth first. As I said, I am not yet living the lap of luxury to afford such things as new toothbrushes, so looks like it will have to be the toothpaste on the finger trick for a while. Song of the day… The Plot by White Rabbits
My first few days back in L.A have been rocky to say the least. I was getting body blows from all angles. Firstly, I had to pay rent, blow to the stomach. Secondly, I now had to pay for the gym, that bastard, blow to the kidneys. All of this and still no job on the horizon. I was then told by someone in the know to check out if I could even act or audition here while not having a long term visa, cheap blow to the mid-section.
Finally, I was hit with some really hard news to take. While I was gone, I missed out on a big game of poker in Robbie Williams’ house, which was fine, until I was told Slash was playing! Slash, how many times would I get a chance to play poker with a Guns & Roses dude?! Upper cut to the chin, I was reeling and only back a day or two!!! I’ll ignore the fact that they were probably not all playing for the usual $10 a man pot I play, so not sure if my budget would’ve allowed me to take up the offer anyways. I’ll ignore that though.
I decided I would sleep the body blows off, it’ll all be rosy in the morning. However, it was then that I realized I need new sheets and pillows, the ones I had been using were no longer there. Using my great improvisation skills, I used a slightly wet hand towel as my pillow the first night, and my very damp bath towel as my sheet, almost covering me down to my waist, I was sorted! Although sheets and pillows were luxury items on my new budget, after that great sleep, I felt they would be a good investment. It was only when I got to the shop, saw the prices, and checked my budget, that the FEAR showed up and started to win the fight. I could afford one pillow, and a sheet. Maybe I’ll try to rob a homeless guy’s blanket on the way home.
Second night back in L.A, depleted of money (I bought food as well – a loaf of bread, 2 eggs, 1 can of tuna, a banana, handful of nuts, and a yoghurt, hopefully all of that will last me a week or two) and fighting the FEAR, I decided I would start being smarter with my money, start to economize, focus on what I could afford and needed. So, when my roommates asked me to join them in going to a jazz night at a club, I played my smart card, and declined. I was looking forward to trying out my new sheet and pillow anyways.
Woke up the next day, and I am informed I missed a great night, jazz was really good, place was cool, do I know Prince? Not personally, but yes, why so? Oh, he was there as well, jazzing it up. I prefer Michael Jackson anyways. For some reason, it was at this point when I decided to give up worrying. Funk the FEAR, I will beat you off (not in the West Hollywood way, but you know what I mean). I had missed out on poker with Slash, and now a night of jazz with Prince. I was resisting L.A, trying to be smart, use my head, think things through, economize, plan ahead. Thats not what L.A was about for me, I had to get back to basics, back to being dumb and going with the flow, stick to what you know!!!
Rent was paid for the month, I had bought time at least. I was in hobo heaven, a poor man’s paradise! So what if E.T was calling me to go home, I must plough on! Acting might not be the immediate route, but writing is free to do wherever. Looks like its back to getting free acting classes too, I could still do it! Who cares if the sheets I bought are actually meant for a single bed and my bed is a king size, so what if they don’t fit, it all be alright! The minute I stopped worrying about the funds, if I was goosed, how could I afford the acting classes, should I buy new sheets, etc., bits and pieces started to fall my way. Kind of.
While in the gym, after talking about music to the gay dude and how crap it is in the gym at times, there is now a chance I could get a job there as D.J during the day, ha, funking hilarious. I have to drop a demo in tomorrow. I also have a meeting with a guy about potentially running a night or DJ’ing in his bar/restaurant. I need to brush up on my mixing skills fairly lively. There is also now another possibility of selling Shamwows on the weekends, my career options are on the up!
More good news today. My roommate told me, if it ever came to it, I could act away as well without a visa, start off in non-union stuff, I should put up a resume on L.A Casting to get the ball rolling. Wuu huu, my acting career was rising up from the flames, Phoenix style! Seems I just have to remember to try not to be too smart and over-think things. I should have no problem with that so. L.A seems to have made me dumber anyways, or else I just get into more dumb scenarios when I go with the flow, or it could be a combination of all three. Wahey!
Song of this glorious, sunny day is I Feel It All by Feist, pump it up!!!
Enough Talk, More Writing! 