Category Archives: Random Ramblings

Bring Back The Bubble!

2 Comments

For some reason, it occurred to me today, that people in Ireland are suspicious of a happy mood… “Why are you so happy? You should be freaked. You’re freaked to be back, right?” Which lead to my immense conundrum from the last post finally being solved. Took me long enough. The reason that people keep asking me over and over, presuming over and over, that I am freaked to be back, is… that… they are… just freaked themselves, to be here in Cork, it seems. And the reason they would keep asking over and over, until I might eventually say, yeah, freaked alright, is because that is just the only answer they want to hear. Nothing else will please them. Just because they are freaked to be in Cork, or depressed, or whatever it is, people seem to want to project this onto others. I cant be happy so why should you, kind of thing. 

So, having figured that out, after fielding similar questions today, I think it is surely high time, that people cheered the funk up. Seriously. If needs be, bring annoying, eternal optimism back! It was not this bad before. Things could be worse! The bubble of optimism floating all over Hollywood has to be shipped over. And I know, I know, it appears as if I am complaining about people complaining. But I’m not, I’m just making an observation. Plus, I now kind of have a plan on how to supply a small token of light, a beacon, that might cheer people up. Make them feel involved, if they want to, obviously. More to come on that! Oh my God, re de de, all the depressed, down, freaked people, who wish they were anywhere but here, like I must wish too, you must be freaked, freaked – yeah, freaked alright – must be freaking out wanting to know what it is going to be?!!! 

Back to making progress on one of the plans… blog – book – sitcom – movie. Today, I got feedback from BAFTA about my episode script. Unbelievably helpful feedback too. First thing which I was told, is that in Hollywood, there are only two outcomes for your script – brilliant or nothing. Either your script is brilliant, and ready to be passed around to the right people, so that you can be confident that its just not a waste of time. Or, nothing. There’s no other alternative really. And, I am now freaked. My script is not in the brilliant category. Might as well just give up, I can’t believe it’s not brilliant after the first (longer than I thought, and tougher than I thought) effort.

Nay. Thankfully, I was given fairly specific pointers on where to improve or change aspects of it, so its all flowing in the right direction. I wont say exactly what was said, but the drive to get the successful pilot has increased since the chat! It is not in the brilliant category… yet. Although, that also includes it being specific to Hollywood producers as well. I was told that in other places, such as Ireland or England, a different view could be taken, as the story is not as common i.e some idiot going off to L.A to try acting and all that. On paper, a lot of people are like that in L.A. So, more food for thought. I could get more specific, but might ramble on a bit too much.

Instead I will give a brief summary of the main points:

Tone it down. Make it more suitable and appealing to as many people as possible.

Can it be made more original. Apparently there was a movie 75 years ago called On The Stage Door, all about actors in L.A trying to get a break kind of thing. So, its been done that way years ago.

Surprise the reader more. Not with the content, but with the story line e.g Ugly Betty in the fashion industry, as opposed to a model in the fashion industry.

Now, I think I might take two routes. Firstly, re-write the script again, keeping it similar for Irish and English pitches, but perhaps toning parts down. There was one part in particular that was meant one way, but came across a different way. And the mix-up is fairly funny, but not in the greatest of ways for me. Perhaps I did not make it seem as obvious as I thought. Or I am just too clever for my own good. Only about 4 people will get the meaning of those gibberish lines.

Secondly, at the same time, I will make the original idea for the sitcom slightly different and seen from a different angle, to appeal more to the American producers. And write, in the main, a new script. Which I have thought of a way already, so happy enough. I was also told that I should not write what I might think a potential audience might like, but write it geared towards what a potential producer will like. If that makes any sense, it did to me at the time of being told. Best part of all, is that once the re-write is finished, my helpful source in BAFTA wants to see it again. I am not cut out of the loop… yet!

All in all, for a first Monday back, getting that feedback, plus thinking of my new plan, as well as getting a few more issues dealt with or under way, it wasn’t too bad a day. The bubble has yet to be burst. And, not really the video, just the song, helped to play a part…

Dat New New (Viking Remix) by Kid Cudi

Prison Break

4 Comments

Unless I am mistaken, Cork, as in the city itself, is not actually a prison. Except, obviously, for the actual prison that is here. Besides that though, there are no physical barriers to prevent one from leaving. Mental barriers seem to be the only problems that might stop somebody for leaving. I wasn’t out on probation and now being legally forced back to Cork to stay here forever.

So, when people keep asking if I am freaked to be back, I can honestly say no, I’m not. Why would I be freaked? The only thing, I thought, that was beginning to freak me out a bit was that people would ask me over and over, prodding me for the answer they wanted to hear, only satisfied if I might eventually say – Freaked alright, freaked! “I knew it, I’d be freaked too if I was you.” I’d obviously prefer to be L.A right now, but what should I do, wallow around in despair and just sigh all the time? I also wouldn’t mind being on a beach in the Caribbean perhaps, there are plenty of other places I’d like to be.

Last night was my first night back out in Cork. It was almost forced going out though, feeling like I should really be out. Just back home, first time in about 6 months, plus my birthday the day before, I surely should be out having a few boozes. However, and I suppose this is a good thing, I realized that the majority of buddies who I’d go out with usually, have now departed from Cork, flown the rooster or however that saying goes. Not even the reliable Dr. Lump was around! Quite bizarre.

Anyways, went out, met a good few people that I hadn’t seen in, strangely, about 6 months, ha, good enough initially. Although when I did ask – What are you up to since last time I saw you – and got told “Ah, the usual, you know yourself shur” I did think to myself, that I have no clue what the usual for you is, at all. Gay gyms, C – Z list celebrity hanger on, and selling Super Shammys to Nazis, off the top of my head? I know it only too well! 

One funny thing I noticed, especially if someone offers to buy a drink, is that people still seem to be almost offended if you ask for a light beer, instead of a pint. “Light? Are you gone gay?” Agreeing with them -Yeah, very, how did you know? – throws them off a bit. “Are you still eating like a hawk too? Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” as they put their pints on their bellies and fold their arms, looking me up and down with a slight look of disgust. Not sure really, something has gone wrong I agree but could you ask them for a tiny little umbrella sticking out of the bottle too if you don’t mind, cheers boss.

Good to see as well that so many people, who I might have thought didn’t really like me before, were so happy to see me back. “You’re back? I knew it, I knew you would be. I thought you were off wri-thing mooo-vies? Just gave up I suppose? I knew it” Thumbs up. Some randomer let me know “I heard you on the radio, you were s**t”. Cheers bud, two thumbs up. One guy in particular decided to come up to me early in the night, drunk, and tell me “Oh look who it is, the blog is it, huh, what a load of crap. You do know that nobody reads that crap. You’re back I see anyways, about time”. Good to see your eyes work well. Then, later in the club, presume even more drunk, same guy “C’mere, do you know in the blog, I read it once, who was the hot neighbour you were on about? Was she savage or what? Was your man really a Nazi too?” then stumbles off muttering “Load of crap really, I could do way better”.

They were only minor few really though, funny to laugh at all the same. Being honest, the night was grand, nothing to write home in a blog about (oh Jesus). I started thinking, maybe I was actually freaked to be back? However, it was when genuine buddies might ask why I was actually back, and I told them I was back for a few weeks now, instead of, in all probability, in 2 weeks time, was that my Gran had passed away, that I began to realize in my own head why I might not be in the most exuberant of moods. Not that I was freaked to be back, but obviously just down or sad for the reason I had to come home, who wouldn’t be though? (On a side note, I’m not sure why I type the word Gran, yet say the word Nana? Strange to me, but anyways).

Still though, being unknowingly reminded of this over and over again, throughout the night (not that it was anyone’s fault, obviously) puts a bit of a damper on the night. Which might explain why I was home for about half 1, ha, a great sign for any night really, especially one when you are not doing a sober Joe. Although the fact that the club I was in felt like the afters of a bad wedding didn’t really help too much either.

A few people were asking me as well last night what made me decide to funk off over to L.A in the first place. One guy asked me to put it in the blog as he didn’t think he’d be sober enough to remember, ha, and could read it today. Not really sure, but I know the following helped. Reading The Alchemist was one. Listening to Sigur Ros. Movies like Into The Wild. Another great book is The Road Less Traveled. None of them might inspire others, good few people would probably highly dislike all of them, but they worked for me. I must go listen, read or watch something like that now, to help me plot my prison break attempts tomorrow.

For anyone in America reading too, here are a few photos my brother took, showing off what the main streets in the main cities in Ireland look like.

I could say that this was the first song that played, that was on the first unknown burnt CD I found in my car yesterday, when I drove again back here for the first time. But, it wasn’t. It was the about 5th song I flicked onto. Either way, a good jail breaking song if anyone needs one.

Away From Here by The Enemy

Red Or White?

Leave a comment

I shall not lie, over the past few days I was unsure if the 100th mark would be reached, never mind broken. However, I have decided to prove myself wrong, and write on! The reason for this uncertainty, initially, was due to me being unsure how long more I could stay in America for, on this current visa. With under 2 weeks left on the visa, I was weighing up another spring break trip to Mexico or Canada. My episode was good to go, being passed around, I was heading back to L.A in order to get a scene or two made, I had even been contacted about the possibility of meeting with a fairly reputable manager. Again, that sort of stuff is hearsay in my book until it happens, can only count on yourself really but worth looking into at least. Still, if it all went to plan, a quick spring break and back again, somehow, to keep the ball rolling.

Sadly, my Gran passed away this week back in Ireland, so that changed things even further. I was getting ready to go to the airport yesterday, packing my bags, and not knowing if I was L.A or Ireland bound. Managed to get a flight back in time for the funeral tomorrow, so instead of heading back to L.A for 10 days or so, bizarrely, and fairly surreal being honest, I am now back in Ireland for a few weeks. All happened fairly quickly, but no time to mull it over. Now, I shall just have to find a way to go back out there in 3 weeks, and make more than the 2 scenes I had planned for next week. Instead, I shall make a shorter version of the entire episode, start to finish if I can, must turn it into a plus! This now will be my visa trip as well. 

Just in the door and highly jet lagged, so decided to write on in hope to bore myself enough to fall asleep. I managed to lift my mental block of thinking that I could only write when in L.A, seeing as I managed to get a fair bit done in San Fran. Now the tougher test, can I pull fodder out of the bag for Cork and Ireland while I am back. I have the faith, in quantity, if not quality, at least! There shall be no whining or complaining about being back either, I miss L.A and all that. Put a cork in it (oh Jesus) and deal with it. Stage 1 has been completed, now plough on! Things can be worked on from here too while I’m back.

Although, I did forget that it was no longer L.A, or even America, that I was in, where the dress code is carte blanche. This was when I noticed bizarre items such as a hat (a hat?!) or a scarf (a scarf, oh my God, what an insane thing to wear!) get too many strange looks. Or maybe its that mullets are no longer as cool here as before. That statement is highly doubtful though.

The trip home, compared to previous airport adventures, was highly uneventful. There were no elaborate searches, terminal chases, mishaps or misunderstandings. I did, however, realize what my biggest fear is, just before boarding a long haul flight. And that, justifiably so I do believe, is the fear that my iPod will freeze just as I get onto the plane. And stay frozen until the battery dies. Which would be at least 12 hours. More than the flight. What a dose that would be. Obviously far worse could happen, but still, that would be highly annoying. Don’t mean to sound insensitive with the recent crash and all, but as we were taking off, I realized that was all my warped mind was worried about.

In fairness though, if I had no music, I would’ve been entertained by my new 4’2 (I think), Jordanian friend, Leen, who I sat next to on the plane. Or Gordanian as I liked to call it. Or Michael Jordan as I also liked to mistake it for. The jokes were flying out, it was a long, looong flight for her. I also used tried out my new truth line… I’m a writer -“Oh yeah, what do you write?” – A blog, ha… which went down well. So did her joke of… Yeah, I’m a terrorist, undercover sorority girl… so it was a hilarious flight home. I played two songs off the top of my head too, Lean Back, and Come On Eileen, which were received with two pitiful shakes of her head. Overall, a mighty flight! Especially, especially, seeing as I now have a joke to tell in Arabic (phonetically speaking)… Esh byakol hsaan looti? Hasheeeeeeeesh!!! (Say the punch line in a West Hollywood accent and you might be able to guess it).

Two things that did manage to put a pep in my step in the past hour… 1. My brother telling me that people who we might not have met before or seen in years, were blatantly showing him their disappointment, when he told them he wasn’t me when asked earlier at the removal, ha. Appears I have a Joe Dolan type of fan base building up. And 2. This song for some reason, which was used before but funk it, recycle on…

All My Friends by LCD Soundsystem

The Ton, Terry… Trumpet!

6 Comments

On a personal note, the words have not been flowing the past day or so. On a note which you will be happy to hear, as a result, there shall now only be minimum fanfare to celebrate the 100th blogaruu!

Perhaps I should start with a poll. Especially seeing as the last one was so highly successful (16 votes, wuu)

 

As a token of my appreciation to all those who have been reading the blog, or read the blog at all – as of right this second, all 13, 038 of ye (I know, I know, doesn’t work like that but who’s counting anyways) – I have decided not to play any trumpet song.

Instead, here is a short medley of remixed songs for you to download. Additional mixing is only superb! Spoof! Use it for the gym perhaps. Or use it to free Jim. Either way, at this moment in time, I have nothing else to give. Enjoy! (Including The Rolling Stones, The Clash, Chris Cornell and Kanye West, all amongst one other, all gym’ed up!)

Free Jim!

“Hi, Atus, how are ya boyo?” Not too bad boss, what are you up to? “I’m off for a brief while” Cool, good duck!

My gibberish talk to myself shall all be revealed in time. I presume that alone will have everyone on the edge of their seats, re de de. And if it does have you on the edge of your seat, why are you not already up dancing to the medley I posted?

Finally, a visual perhaps to make up for the lack of words. I forgot to post any of my photos from my horrendous disposable camera a while back, so here is the best one by a country mile. And before you ask, or say it to yourself, the answer is yes, the rest were that bad as to make this one, the best… 4 Monkeys and 1 Ape.

4 Monkeys and 1 Ape

99 Luftballons

Leave a comment

The following three adjectives might sum up why I am not yet back in L.A, typing this up… stupidity, impatience, and my inability to wait for the website page to load to confirm my flight had actually been booked, instead of me closing it down in a rush to leave the house. Maybe prolix should’ve been the third one. (Ha, just in case, like me, you have to look that up, click here). Anyways, luckily for you, even though I said I would only blogaruu from on when in L.A, a few events have taken place over the past few days, which have urged my typing hand to type.

Firstly, the draft of the episode has more or less been fully completed. Re-writes are slowing down to roughly only one a day, so I think it is good to go. In fact, is has gone, been emailed out to a few people in L.A already, time for the offers to flood in. Nay. Completing the episode and emailing it off to interested parties has actually provided me with far less satisfaction than I would previously have imagined. Far, far less. Which is actually a good thing.

Now it is written, so what, well done. Same as writing a good song perhaps, lyrics mean bob all on paper. I now need music, and singers! If you get what I mean. The script is longer than one (well, I) might have imagined, almost 50 pages. Getting someone to sit down and read all this, fully as to get the humour and all that, is asking a tad much. Particularly when I am who again? The key here is to get my visual, any visual, to accompany my script. I am aiming for a few scenes to make a mini episode out of them, but even if I can get one in the time which I have left, I shall be pleased. Moderately. At least then I can show a 5 minute clip, or a 30 second clip, giving the feel that I am aiming for, and luring, whoever it may be, in with my packet of sweets and my cheesy reel, so that they will want to then read the magnificent episode!

Another event to have occurred since last blogaruu, was a little old D.J gig, in a bar here in San Frankisco. Finally, a flow of money inwards was on the cards, but everything comes out a cost. Including money. I was told beforehand that it might not be the kind of crowd that I play to regularly down in L.A, i.e the crowd at the gym. Not too worry, I told them in return, I also D.J in a bar in L.A, I am very adaptable, I have a broad range. My one request, is that you have none. Ok, cool, should be good, just bring a few Irish songs along with you in case. No, I shall not, I will win them over with my remixes. Take them on, head first. If the women and the gay guys in the gym love them so much, then your punters surely will too.

Happy enough that my name was up in lights outside the door as I entered the bar… Tonight “D.J No Requests” All the way from L.A!!! A new name is added to the list. To say that the bar was packed, might be a bit of an exaggeration. It was busy, ish. Very ish. To say that the bar was Irish, might be a bit of an understatement. Think of a bar in a little village somewhere in West Cork, with a few American tourists after wandering in, and you might get a visual of the place. Pre-tty Irish. I was asked to stop the music at about 12 o’ clock for a while so a raffle could take place. Gay gym remixes all the way!

First song in, I decided I would play a little medley I had prepared, wow them with my D.J’ing skills. The first section of the medley had barely kicked off, when some drunk dude comes stumbling up… “Will you play that s**t song, Poker Face? Play that for me, I like that” No, did you not see the sign at the front door. He started to give me weird looks, copping on that I was Irish too, which threw him off. I gave in, easiest way to get rid of him would be to just play the song, so told him cool, no problem, and played the remix I have… “I Poke Her Face”, which I think he liked. Thankfully that was the only request I got all night. Nay. The requests came flooding in, a wide and varying range… “Play some Scooter”… “Play some heavy metal rock, then some Scooter”… “Play that band I loved back home, Cascade?”… “Do you know this song (and this is no lie, he thought I would get it from this) – Do do doooo doo do dooo dada – that dance one?” No, sing it again for me… “La la laaa la le da da doo da – you do know it? Everyone knows that, what kind of D.J are you?”… Eye balls me up and down as I shake my head and laugh at his attempt… “You’re some s**t D.J”. Cheers bud!

One guy in particular grew an immense dislike for me, in such a short time too. “Play me some rock will ya, some heavy s**t, all my friends are D.J’s, its cool, I know what I am on about” (Incidentally, this was at my highest point, when I started to play the gym remix section, which had the crowd pumping and actually on the dance floor) Hang on two minutes, I’ll play it in a while for you, just hang on. “Play it now, I want to rock out before I go home” Hazarding a guess, this guy was closer to 40 that 20. Also very drunk, and gripping an empty bottle while looking me up and down. So he decided to hang on for the rock, standing next to me, looking at me with disgust.

Eventually, I decided to throw in a rock song. A Metallica one, just like he asked. The floor had died down at this stage, to the point where he was the only person on it. And he started rocking on, air guitaring his heart out, but not in a piss take way, this was life and death stuff. Until he realized that it was not the version he was expecting, but a remix one. Ha, he flipped, straight up “For f**k’s sake, you pr**k, play me a rock one, my friends D.J too, they play rock for me.” Again, gripping his empty bottle and eye-balling me. So, obviously seeing as I am so obliging and all, I played him another rock song. Which was also a remix. “You f**king pr**k, you’re a c**t, you know that, stop DJ’ing up the song and let me rock out!” 

By this time the dance floor had picked up a bit again, the rest of the crowd enjoyed the remixes it seemed. This little angry ape of a man was now in the D.J booth next to me, informing me that I was a s**t DJ, really s**t, his friends are way better. Now that I had a view of him almost face in my face, I would confidently say he was almost 40. “I’ve never liked you playing here before. You’re always s**t when you play here. If you don’t play me a rock song, I’ll bottle ya, ya f**king pr**k”. I decided not to inform him that it was my first time, and high possibility my last time, playing at the venue. Instead I gave him a patronizing smile, wink, nod and a thumbs up. Strangely, this calmed him down, maybe thinking I was being serious.

Either way, as he walked back onto the dance floor, over to his group to inform them of how s**t I was, I decided to play him this great rock song, one he would be able to truly rock out to… 99 Red Balloons.

Ha, he went mental, by the looks of it his friends had to hold him back, and “If I didn’t know your cousins, I’d smash the bottle over ya”. Again, I gave him thumbs up, two this time, rock on! I meant to ask him for a favour before he left, but decided against it. He would’ve been an ideal candidate to read my episode and give me an honest opinion though! At the end of the night, last song over, a few of his friends moseyed on over… “You’re not Irish, are ya?” Sorry to disappoint you, but yes, I too am Irish. “Well, you’re not from Cork”. Again, apologies, but I actually am. “You’re not from Wishht Cork anyways. Because that’s where I’m from!” You got me there, well done! Delighted, knowing looks spread on their faces… a “Thank God this quare isn’t one of us too” kind of look. Yeah, thank God. Besides these minor incidents, coupled with the sound system almost blowing out, which nearly blew out my ear drums, all in all, it was a good night!

Almost wrapping up, 3 little bizarre incidents that occurred today that I feel the need to type about, maybe just so that I can remember again if needed. 1. My toothbrush snapped in half while brushing my teeth earlier. Strange enough. 2. My nose started to bleed uncontrollably in the gym while I was doing a squat. Worryingly weird. And 3. On the way home from the gym a homeless woman flashed me her left… ? Guess. Delightful.

Finally, I got a bit of bad news today, so not sure how long more this section of the L.A adventure, and in turn, perhaps the blog, will carry on for. 99 Red Balloons has another symbolic meaning too, can you figure out why? Re de de, the next blogaruu might be the…

Besides the obvious, classic rock song above, 99 Red Balloons by Nena, the other song for this day, which is either highly annoying, or strangely good…

Combination Pizza Hut & Taco Bell (Wallpaper Remix) by Das Racist

Mechanic? No. Idiot? Hopefully.

Leave a comment

There shall be no more long, looong posts giving writing advice, or any advice really being dished out, it has more or less been decided. The reason being, using this simple metaphor, is that if you wanted to find out about cars, you would probably go to a mechanic. Or someone who knew what they were on about. You would not go to an idiot who would know bob all about them… “Yeah, the key goes here, and then the petrol goes there, and thats about it I’d say” then giving you two thumbs up. As a side note, there shall also be no car related advice either.

Today has been spent trying to thrash out the last few scenes of the sitcom episode. The worst thing I could’ve done was get so much done in one day, a few days back. I set the bar too high, or else made myself relax too much. I have the end all in my head, good to go, but for some reason I do not seem to want to put it on paper. Perhaps, it is because I got an old bout of doubt today. This episode is average, grand, is it really even funny… that kind of thing. I think I need someone who either has never met me before, or read the blog, to read the episode, so that I can get a fully impartial opinion. Or someone who is not a fan of mine, in the slightest. Surely, in fact I am positive, that there is a bucket load of people who fit that description.

I’ll snap out of the doubt by tomorrow, back on the horse again, almost there and all. I half decided today as well only to blog on, from now on, when I am in L.A, as that is 99.9% of the reason people read the blog. I think, or presume anyways. Stats alone have shown that if I throw a celebrity name into any story, the reading figures will go through the roof.

For example, the most eventful thing to happen to me, today, was being chatted up by a girl, in a very mundane situation. This might be stating the obvious, but I am a big fan of when a girl goes out of her way, to chat me up. Who isn’t? I think the reason why, for me, is that it is so rare. To be chatted up, unexpected, without initiating. I am a fan. Usually I would be the one with a dumb old approach, not that hers was dumb. It was just so ordinary, going out to my cousin’s jeep to get my phone, and being asked for my number.

See, that in itself is a fairly pointless and stupid story. The kind of one which I have previously stated I would not tell, as nobody wants to hear those kind of stories. People are probably reading it, saying to themselves “What an ape, who cares? So what, do you think you’re cool now that a girl chatted you up. Well done. Stay in L.A, don’t ever leave.”  However, it was told for a purpose, to highlight two facts. One, I need to get out of the house more while I am in San Francisco. And two, if that girl was attached to a celebrity name, the story would be transformed into something else. She would not even have to be a good looking celebrity. Or a successful one. Or even for it to be a girl! If I was to say the girl was Rosie O’ Donnell, or Ellen DeGeneres telling me we had similar haircuts, and it happened in L.A, in Hollywood, the whole story would be seen in a new light.

People would now be reading it, probably, saying to themselves, depending where they were reading it “Jaysus/Oh my Gawd, he has some life in L.A, off being chatted up by Rosie or Ellen in L.A, some life”. It is a bit odd. Instead, it is just some random girl, whose name I can’t remember. 

There was another, underhanded, sly reason for that story too. Hopefully, and I am positive of this too, there has to be someone who read as far as here, and is now saying to themselves “What a f**king idiot, why did I just waste my time reading this crap when I could’ve been on Facebook”. If you are that person, if you are, then get in touch. I need your opinion on the episode I have almost finished.

Two songs today. The first is a pretty cool video, all done in one take, by a dude who is talented as funk by the looks of it. B*****d. Impressive hula hooping too.

In Step by Frankmusik

Second is by another highly talented dude, good title too. Plus, my gym buddy has a cameo! I love L.A! And celebrity stories! Wuu!

I Poke Her Face by Kid Cudi (Feat Kanye West, Common, Lady Ga-Ga and A-Trak)