Category Archives: Music

Day Dreaming, Night Writing

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4-Hour Work Week

If you have never heard of Tim Ferris, or the Four Hour Work Week, I highly recommend checking him and his website out. Then again, if you were to recommend the same thing to me, I probably would not do it at first. Seeing as a buddy did tell me the exact same thing at least a year again, and I just briefly glanced at the website, flicked through it, shrugged my shoulders, then moved on. Same way I kind of am with music. If a song is played for me, or recommended to me, I will half listen to it, pretend to give two thumbs up to whoever played it for me, and then quickly forget about it. I prefer to discover these things on my own, for some stubborn reason. However, every now and again, it is good to be pointed in the right direction, as the same buddy did again today. I got two links earlier, showing how Tim Ferris had turned his blog into a book, which hit number 1 on the New York Times bestseller list. I can’t believe he copied my plan!

Anyways, from these links, and through the long tail of the web, I managed to get a wealth of information on helping me in my book process. Whereas contract advice and details are not so abundant on the internet, to me at least, writing advice is in plentiful, and good quality as well. However, after spending the majority of my morning and afternoon reading different articles, and building up gems of advice here and there, I was kind of annoyed with myself that maybe I should have spent that time actually writing. Was reading this stuff not just a way of fooling myself and procrastinating the day away?  Thankfully, I realized this was not the case. I’ve said this before, like study in college, I get my best (? most) writing done at night. It takes me far, far, far longer to write a blog during the day, than at night, for example.

I read earlier that Tim Ferris was told by a few big name authors whom he interviewed, that he should sit in front of his computer from 8am to 6pm and just see what came out writing wise. He tried, and found it awful. When I saw that he too got his best work done from 1am to 4am, it gave me my little epiphany. It is not about quantity, or how many hours, its all about the quality and productivity I put in during the selected times. It was good to get this perspective back again. For some reason, I have still been trying to force myself into having some sort of a 9-5 schedule. Seeing as most people I know in Ireland work 9 to 5, I think I felt I should set similar hours for myself. Well, maybe 10.30 until whenever I had dinner. Kind of, in the sense that I felt like I should be working, writing, or making some sort of inroads during these times. Yet not really pumped to write. And then I would just feel like a bum, or guilty for some reason, for sleeping in past 10 or 11, then not being 100% productive during the day. 

Time to shuffle my schedule to make the most of my days and nights. What I have been trying to do is spread my work throughout the entire day. Then stay up late at night, writing an old blogaruu, attempt a script or the likes, but feeling too wrecked lately. I realized today that I just have to be wiser when I pick my times to be productive, and then boom on with the writing during those times. Instead of doing drips and drabs all day long. At the end of the day, it is all about quality. Start off well, and continue on from there. If a bus was to fall out of the sky and hit me on the head, I need to make sure that the material I have written is the best it can be up to that point. At least the outline is being laid for the writing process, fail to prepare and all that!

Another good point which I was reminded about elsewhere today, was the whole thing about to help you keep a positive outlook in your own life, it is better to surround yourself with positive folk. Cull the negative downers, they will just try to take you down with them, kind of thing. Sounds la de da, but I think it is too true. While I’m on that subject, isn’t it great fun too when someone tells you all the time that they are bored?! I’m bored. Entertain me. I’m bored. I’m boring. Good work. With that in mind, it is time to surround myself with productive people only. The culling axe will have to be taken out once again! Which leaves me in a bit of a conundrum. I presume the majority of people who read the blog, do so at work. Meaning, they are dodging, and not being so productive. Re de de. Although, seeing as it is such an educational blog, technically you are expanding your mind, which is always worthwhile. You’re back in!

Song on, chilled swaying kind of one…

Washed Out

Feel It All Around – Washed Out

Another Radiohead remix…

Jaydiohead

Song And Cry – Radiohead and Jay-Z (Jaydiohead)

To end on a complete and utter bizarre note, who wants to see this weird video that I saw through Twitter earlier? Ha, highly productive and educational!

Gut On!

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Bob all happened today to be true. Bits and pieces at best. After getting home last night for about 3 bells, I was way too tired to write a blogaruu. Bad call being honest. For whatever reason, I find writing of any sort flows far better at night rather than through the daylight hours. So, once I woke up today, I cracked into the blogaruu about that pie-ball nut from last night, and the morning disappeared. And by morning, I mean from about 12 to quarter to one. Which meant it was obviously time for lunch. I honestly think that the most productive thing that I accomplished today, was writing out my to-do list for the week. Not doing anything on the list. Just writing it out. Sloooow day. Still though, after the impromptu gig last night, I wasn’t as guilty as I might otherwise have been. 

Actually, I did manage to accomplish one thing of note today. I emailed my publisher a few name suggestions I thought of as the working title for my book. I came up with about 5 I think, one controversial last minute one (controversial at a stretch really) but I think I already know which one I’ll go with anyways. However, if any avid reader has any suggestions which they think would suit the book to a tee, i.e incorporating L.A and Irish factors, feel free to let me know. If it is used, you will get a funbelievable prize in return! 

I meant to blog about this yesterday, but seeing as that blogaruu was so long, the paragraphs had to be culled. Instead, I’ll do it now, as it may come in handy to anyone who ever might be in a similar position. That is, last Friday I was trying to suss out, what it is exactly I should be aware about as far as a book contract goes. And, seeing as it was a contract, binding and all, the real details needed, not just an outline. What is the norm for me to expect from the publisher, and what is the norm that they should ask of me. Those kinds of things. For once, Google did not help me out as much as it has before. Usually, whenever I hit a wall with an unknown area, Google would pop up with an answer of some form. Whether it is acting info, L.A tips, writing self-help, any of those, Google has delivered the goods. (On a quick side note, how well is the acting side progressing at the moment? Only magnificent! On ice until L.A.)

This time around, however, good old reliable Google gave me far too broad answers, which were really not that helpful. A constant barrage of noise was being showered at me, with nothing at all specific. For example, when you read that some writers get no money for their first book up front, whereas other unknown writers have been paid $2.5 million for their first book, it made me wonder where my $1.5 million advance really stood. Should I not try to be pushing the boat out there, and get $3 million?! After trying many, many, many different websites, none really gave me any clear help. In fact, it just made things worse. Especially seeing as a lot of the websites I found, mentioned literary agents so much. Which led me to think, should I get an agent? But why would I get an agent, when I already got a book deal? Is that not like paying someone for help, when you have helped yourself already? What does an agent really do, book wise?

All sounds a bit pointless and over the top now I think back about it, but at the time, it made sense to think these through. When I found an Irish website that looked potentially helpful, I contacted them to get some information. They kindly sent me an email back, saying to download their application form to become a member, send a cheque for €50, it would be discussed in a few weeks at the next committee meeting, and then after I got accepted, they could give me the information I needed. The information being more or less a yes or no answer. Sounded like a great plan, thanks for that. Just let me find my cheque book and we’ll be good to get this quick procedure underway. Good duck to that.

It came as a bit of a surprise to me where I got my helpful information from. Well considering similar attempts acting wise in the past. This time around people were far more helpful and forthcoming with information. Those folk being different writing contacts I could think of here in Ireland. Took me a while, but I scrambled a few different leads together. Other people who I came across that had been in a similar situation, friend of a friend, colleagues of writers in Irish newspapers. Mucho gracias to them again, if any might be reading. Managed to get nuggets of information from about 4 different sources. Hooking with me up the details I needed to know, facts and figures, potential pitfalls, put things into perspective. And, being honest, it all made me realize what my gut was telling me all along. That it was all good. Sometimes you just have to Google off, and gut on! No harm in double checking though.

Remixaruu…

Radiohead

Reckon A Superstar (Remix) – Radiohead feat. Lupe Fiasco

Mental Weekend

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Not too sure exactly how, particularly after Friday night, but the weekend somehow got more nuts and hectic by the night. It was mental! Which was highly surprising seeing as I presumed that Friday night would easily be the pinnacle. How can you beat a night of hoovering the house?! It was tough to see how that would be topped. Saturday and Sunday somehow pulled a few gems out of the bag though. On a side note, anyone not in Ireland probably won’t have a clue what hoovering is. Not actually a drug related term as someone in America mistakenly thought before, her eyes lighting up when I said I must buy a hoover. It is another term for vacuuming. However, unlike the drugs she thought I was on about, hoovering is cool no matter what term you apply to it!

Saturday was a highly productive day. I got some savage new songs and mixes under my belt. Pretty exciting. After the excitement of that, and the night before, I decided my best bet for a quiet, uneventful, innocuous night, free of all the annoying, good music I had to listen to that day, would be to go out in Cork. Hardy har. Main incident of note from the night out, was trying to figure out which girl it was that left such a lasting impression on me. I have it narrowed it down to two. Two apes, of equal measure. Too many reasons to go into for them to be painted with the ape brush. The big impression one of them left on me was a hand print from her fake tan on my top. Funking lovely. Worryingly large sized hand as well. Similar size to a bear’s claw, to give you some sort of an idea.

Which leads me on to Sunday. And, all sarcastic tones aside, it was actually a good night. Got a call late on to D.J, happy days. Particularly seeing as I had a basket of new music to try out. Without doubt it has been my most enjoyable gig in Ireland. There was no selling of the soul, play what I wanted, wuu to the huu. Sounds obvious as funk, but once you get girls dancing, the rest will follow. Easy enough really. Its not like a group of guys will lead the way and start gyrating together on the dance floor. That is never going to happen. Unless you happen to have DJ’ed in a gay gym. Apologies to the guys who requested good songs last night that I ended up dodging. I’m sure they are reading. Again, might sound obvious, but sometimes savage songs, are not really savage for a club, if you get what I mean!

Speaking of requests, that fun area is one which is there for life I think. I think it’s the minority have me scarred. The majority were grand last night, as long as you just say yes to every request, people are happy. Playing them barely matters. It was just those 3 or 4 special people that would make you wonder at times. Two girls at the end telling me they loved the music, now could I play either Galway Girl, or any Tiesto, as the last song. I like neither. More importantly, I don’t have either of them. So, I split the difference, and played them Rick Astley. Which lead to a 3rd buddy coming up to tell me I was a prick, and had ruined their friend’s birthday. By not playing Galway Girl. Or a Tiesto song. The success of the friend’s birthday must have been on a fine line if that was the difference between a good and bad night.

There was one in girl in particular, who was very bizarre. A gem really. I think she was the first into the club with her buddies. Initially, I thought she was Polish. I couldn’t understand what she was saying to me, plus a few guys that she was there with were Polish. She didn’t have the same accent though. So, obviously, I thought that she must have been twisted drunk. Apparently, there’s a song out at the moment called One? Or Number One? I thought she was asking for that one, that song, you know that one? No, what song? One, that one? That lost me completely. When I copped on it was me being dumb, I decided to give in to one of her other many, many requests.

When I asked her what other song she wanted, she kept on asking me for the same song over and over. Coming up, asking me was I playing it next. About 5 times. When I played it, she had a little dance for herself, then came back up and asked for it again. Apparently her buddy was in the bathroom, and didn’t get to hear it. When I tried to fob her off by saying I couldn’t understand her fully (which I couldn’t), she started to write me notes, asking for that song to be played one more time, please, I will love you for it, please! The club was still quiet, so I played a snippet again for her and her buddy to dance along to. But she didn’t dance with her buddy. She just stood at the DJ booth and stared at me while the song looped over. I gave her a few thumbs up, but they didn’t scare her off. Standing there, staring at me, Boris style. Around this time, it slowly dawned on me that she must be mentally challenged.

When I turned back to my laptop, she slipped into the DJ booth, right behind me. Standing there, with a blank expression. Asking me if she could just flick through my songs on the laptop, to see what I could play for her next. This is when a barrage of bad breath almost made me puke. I don’t know why more people don’t carry mints, chewing gum, or tic-tacs with them. Or why their friends don’t tell them how bad their breath might be. If it was me, I’d prefer to know. Anyways, I tried to explain to her that I needed my laptop, she couldn’t flick through it, sorry. Could she just stay here in the booth, she asked? No, sorry. She got disgruntled, pushed me to try and get to my laptop, and then asked why I would not just play that song one more time! I kicked her out of the booth, she stood there with the same weird blank expression, but finally went off in a huff. A bouncer came over but I told him it was cool, not too sure but I think she’s mentally challenged, it was fine.

Night was over, equipment packed up, lights were on, good to go. I was making my way out of the club, when she came up to me one final time. “Will you play me one more song, Halo by Beyonce.” This was as people were leaving, with the bouncers herding people out the door. She asked again, for a different Beyonce song, giving me grief on top. Trying to be nice, I gave her my pack of tic-tacs instead of playing her the song. When she threw them away, and asked if I was going to play the song, I told her I would so. Just have to go outside to my car, and get my Beyonce CD from it. Best part was, she believed me. Told me she’d wait there for me. I just looked at her, in complete wonder, slowly realizing something. Now that the music was off, I could finally hear her properly. Turns out, she was not, in fact, mentally challenged. She was, simply, it seemed, a pikey. A traveller. Who spoke in whispers. And liked to stare. Probably mentally disturbed, not challenged. Kind of gutted now that I didn’t hold onto her number that she had written earlier on one of those notes. Would’ve made it a great weekend!

That is a long blogaruu. Two quick songs…

Morgan Page

Longest Road – Morgan Page

Gotye

Learnalilgivinanlovin (Passion Pit Remix) – Gotye

Boris, My Hungarian Stalker?

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On Saturday, two things of note occurred. First, unfortunately I had to go to a funeral. However, it was honestly one of the more upbeat funerals I have been to. At the end everyone in the congregation sang a song, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. Initially I tried to play the cool card, and not sing. Instead shrugging my shoulders to say I would if I could but I don’t know the words. However, a kind lady next to me gave me a sheet with the lyrics. Then looked at me until I actually started to sing along, and not just mime the words. So sing on I did.

While taking pointers from the priest’s sermon technique for my own stand-up act, one good bit of advice stood out for me. The priest was quoting a Spanish writer I think, and mentioned something along the lines of… “You will not be remembered for your secret thoughts. Go out and do it.” I might have added on the second part, not too sure. Still though, I thought it was good. Instead of thinking about X, Y and Z all the time, yet just doing A, B or C, do those things you have in your head. Don’t hold back. You will be remembered for your actions, kind of thing. 

After the funeral, I decided to go to le gym. Saturday afternoon, nice and quiet in there, happy days. Well, just one other person in there it seemed. Not so happy after all. You might remember a few blogaruus back, I mentioned a weird Polish dude who I thought was chatting me up in there before. Couldn’t be sure, but it was bizarre, asking me for my number, and looking to meet up. Well, he was the only other dude in the gym with me on Saturday. And, I was wrong, turns out that he is, in fact, Hungarian, my bad. However, my other first impressions were correct. Bit of a nut. Might also be a stalker. Not too sure.

I was told before that when doing improv, always say yes to any question you are asked, to keep the scene flowing. I would recommend that if you are ever talking to someone who you suspect might be a nutter, always answer no to whatever they ask you. Unless you want to see what happens. Stupidly, I made the mistake of answering yes to… “Are you going out tonight?” Eh, yeah, I’d say so. “Where? Me too, we should meet. I am fun to go out with.” Ok. Em, I am actually working, now that I think about it. “Are you DJ’ing the music? I will come listen to you. Maybe, I will dance as well.” Not too sure yet where I am working, I’ll let you know, I’ll talk to you later on. “Ok, give me your number, and I will ring you.” I’ve no phone. “Everyone has a phone.” I meant, I have no Irish phone, I’m using my American one. “Ok, give me that number later on, we can dance.”

Trying to move on, I stuck my iPod back on. This did not deter him from the pointless chat. Not in the slightest. No matter how many times I pointed at the earphones, he kept on asking me oddly phrased questions. What was my favourite top song? What song did I not like at all? The last CD I bought? Could I make a mixed CD for him? And one for his friend. And another one for a girl he lives with. 3 CDs in total. No problem buddy! He would write out a list of 10 to 30 songs, and I could just put them together for him. When he asked about a CD initially, I actually said yeah, cool, ok, leave me be so, just to be polite and try to appease him so he’d leave me alone. The 30 song request and the way he looked like he thought I would do it, made me tell him to just do it himself. This led to him launching into how the police would catch him downloading the songs, and send him home to Hungary. It had happened to his friend. Sure it did.

At this stage, I told him I was going over to the other side of the room, gym was closing soon, must plough on. “What are you working out today?” I don’t know, my upper left shoulder blade perhaps. “Me too, I will join you.” Actually, I’m going to do my Achilles heels altogether. “You can show me what to do, I need to work them out as well.” Have you ever had a weird dude sitting next to you, staring at you in the mirror in front of both of ye, while working out? Strangely, there is an up-side. It is the best motivation ever. You fly through stuff, just so you can get it over with, and get the funk away from him as quickly as possible. It was a weirder than average staring technique too. Shoulders slumped, head drooped down, yet looking up at me. Just bizarre. God only knows what secret thoughts he was thinking, especially when he would give me a weird smirk every now and again. 

After racing through all the shoulder blade and Achilles exercises I could think of, Boris conveniently gave me a window of opportunity to bunk, by telling me he was going to get his phone, so he could take down my American number. Cool Bor, I’ll be here. He disappeared around the corner, I headed for the exit. Stupidly, I didn’t drive away straight off though when I got into my car. Replied to a text, made a quick call. Then, I started to drive home. As I was pulling out of the car park, I happened to notice the guy in the car behind me, head drooped down, shoulders hunched, cap pulled down. Was that Boris? Looks like Boris. Oh Jesus. Decided to take the long scenic route home. Just in case. The car followed me along the same route. Oh Jesus.

Being honest, I couldn’t actually be fully sure if it was him or not. Still though, better safe than sorry. Did I drive past the turn for my house as a precaution? Obviously. Did I then go around the roundabout by my house twice, to confuse whoever it was? Obviously. It worked. Short term anyways. That stare did look a bit psychotic. Might make out that 30 song mixed CD, just in case. Better safe than sorry. Probably too early to call him a stalker as well. At least a bit of randomness is back in town, wuu huu. 

New band, Local Natives, two songs…

Local Natives

Airplanes – Local Natives

Cecilia (Cover) – Local Natives

Hang On, The Hangover?

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Isn’t that an ingenious title?! No? Thank you, only took me 2 songs to think of it. Anyways, I know I am about a year late, but I finally saw The Hangover tonight. And, to be honest, even though I was hoping it was going to live up to the hype, I thought it fell a bit short. Too many people saying it was too funny and over hyping it a bit up too much. Although it is probably the funniest movie of the summer and all that.

Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was good, especially compared to other recent-ish comedies, but it wasn’t really hilarious. In fact, thinking back about it, there were only a few funny-funny parts. Not a lot of really hilarious scenes though. More just Vegas incidents, tiger in the bathroom, perhaps, as an example. It is nowhere near as good as a Superbad, or the likes, in my opinion at least. I went to see Superbad two days in a row in the cinema with buddies who thought it was equally as good. Chumps? Maybe. Was it worth going again? Definitely.

Tonight as we left the cinema, myself and my buddy were banding around a few quotes from the movie. Or trying to, at least. I think we got as far as one, the pronunciation of retard, ha, which was funny. Think of other movies though, Superbad or Old School for example. A plethora of funny quotes pop into my head straight away (pick any of Frank the Tank’s or any scene from Superbad). Maybe that’s just me, but I couldn’t think of a lot from The Hangover. Which is probably why I think it was over-rated. The fat guy is obviously brilliant and the main guy makes a good lead, but the other parts don’t really shine as much as I thought they would. I think the guy who lost a tooth is brilliant in The Office, but here not as much, only a few laughs? I almost laugh at every line he says in The Office.

Now that I think about other parts, the Chinese guy was kind of funny, but not top dollar, more of a ha, than a proper laugh. Compared to how it turned out in the movie, the Tyson punch looked way funnier in the trailer. What made me leave thinking the movie was initially better than it might’ve have been, were the photos in the end credits. Especially after the boring wedding ending (bar the singer in the band part). The photos just made me think that it would have been some laugh to have made that movie… in Vegas, surrounded with all Vegas has to offer, how could it not have been good?! No wonder they all looked so pleased. 

Anyways, there is a point to me being so critical of a good (but not great) movie. It has spurred me on with the dumb belief that I could do better. I know you might be thinking that I sound like an ape or an arrogant fool, but if I don’t have the faith that I can write a better movie than that, then who will have the dumb faith?!! Bold statement, all I need to do now is shut up and deliver. It will come, we all have a “Good Will Hunting” in us. Believe!

Besides that, kind of related today, was the news that I know now when my visa appointment is to find out do I get my fancy new visa approved. Touch wood. About 3 weeks away for the appointment, so I kind of have a deadline-ish to produce one polished and hilarious script at the very minimum. Deadline all the way. Finally this limbo land living has an end on the horizon!

Has to be done, a few of the best parts of Superbad…

Rainbow Bridge

Big Wave Rider – Rainbow Bridge

Man In The Mirror

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Being honest, I had a blogaruu half written out before I decided I had to restart it from scratch. Thankfully, it was cut loose. Perhaps these few selected sentences will make clear as to why… “L.A.D kicked in big time this weekend. As opposed to S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder), location seems to be my problem”… “This was not just a hangover, this was a slump”… “Literally, the sight of myself in the mirror on Saturday almost made me sick.” Ha, the whole thing was just getting me more annoyed reminding myself of the past couple of uneventful days, so it had to be changed.

Lets just say I had a gloriously average weekend at best, where besides a bit of writing, not too much happened, and which I am looking forward to moving on from. Perhaps I might be feeling a bit frustrated at the moment. Which is where the title stemmed from. I’ll keep it as a souvenir to make sure I know who it is that can solve my issues!

To inject a bit of humour, here’s a funny man to start again with…

Moving on, one thing which has become quite apparent while I have been home, is how atrocious radio stations in Ireland have become (maybe always were?). Not all of them, all of the time, but the majority of them, the majority of the time. In my opinion at least. Unfortunately I left my iTrip in L.A, so every time I drive here, I make the same mistake. Well, two mistakes. First is forgetting to burn a CD to bring along with me. The main one, however, is that I keep giving the radio one last chance. And time and time again, it makes me want to bite my ears off. It is brutal! Music wise anyways, the chat shows are fine, you know what to expect from them. It is the generic, bland, horrific music that is played 90% of the time which is so annoying to me. Different stations playing the same horrendous songs that in 3 weeks people will not even remember the name of. When did it get so bad?

The worst part is similar to a scene in Family Guy, where they mock a station that plays a jingle for a good few minutes, telling you the name of the station. Then the jingle keeps going for another minute or two. On Saturday, while driving along, I noticed that one station claimed to play a fit of 6 songs in a row, uninterrupted. Probably 6 crap songs, but still, uninterrupted was the big factor. Supposedly. Bar the presenter saying a few sentences between each song. And the few ads scattered here and there. Oh, plus the jingle… “Uninterrupted, UNINTERRUPTED, music without interruptions” and so on, for at least half a minute. Which was highly head wrecking. Especially when the songs that were then played seem to be tailored only for a hen party crowd. Which is fine, I suppose, if you’re on a hen and listening to the radio at the same time. Otherwise, it is torture. 

Night time radio at least has some variety. However, day time radio must be a rising source of road rage in people these days. Or is it just me? Screaming at the radio for just one good song without an annoying ape talking through it. I’ve tried going down the route of turning the radio off fully as well. However, this just leads to an odd silence in the car, a vacuum. Which feels like it should be filled with some sort of noise. Sing a song perhaps. Or else you could just start talking to yourself. Which is odd, when somebody next to you in traffic asks what song you’re singing, and you tell them the truth “No song, just talking to myself about the current plight of the radio.” Kind of weird, when they realize you’re not joking.

Now that I read back over this attempt, it is clear that I might just be using Irish radio to vent out frustrations I have in other areas. At least the first attempt made sense, in a way. As opposed to this puke-like effort. Anyways, like all other frustrations I might be encountering at the moment, it will just have to be dealt with. Suck it up. Stop being a bitch. And bring back the week, more constructive things outside my control can potentially occur.

Best part of the weekend might have been watching Louis Theroux on BBC tonight, about his show on meth addicts in California. Watching that has made me realize that I may have met a few more meth heads myself back in L.A, than I might have initially thought. Which is good to know. Plus, I read yesterday about a serial killer who seems to have resurfaced in L.A, and is on another rampage. The grass is far greener.

A song to wrap this mess up…

Simian Mobile Disco

Cruel Intentions – Simian Mobile Disco (Feat. Beth Ditto)