Summer Duu!


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About a month ago I read Zen and the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury. Mighty book, highly recommend it. Two of the best things I got out of it: Continue Reading »

LonDumb – Part II


Charles II

Continuing on from LonDumb – Part I …

It’s A Long Way To Tipperary – Little Green Cars

What do you call a ponder pipe that just lays around all day? Mopey Dick. Badum. My first day in London, I was moping like no other. Woke up early. Phoned the prison. Spoke to Kailand. Told me her news – “They keep giving us bananas and milk for meals, I’m hooked on the milk.” Slurp. Filled her in on my news – US Embassy said there’s nothing they can do, magistrates decision so just have to sort it out when you get home. Some dose. Slurp. Kailand is upset. But still. Her spirits are high. Night’s sleep always helps in fairness. Or else they were spiking the milk.

It was then realised that it must be hard to keep conversations flowing with people in prison. Both had filled the other in in detail what had happened since we saw each other last (about 24 hours ago). After that, our news seemed insignificant or non-existence. I’d phone back and Kailand would tell me she had a nice non-English speaking conversation with an Indian woman about milk. I’d inform Kailand that the hotel room was nice but all the TV stations seemed to be showing was the Big Bang Theory. Then Kailand had to go to get more milk. I’d phone back. Find out if the milk was really cold or room temperature. Called off again to go brush her teeth if she wanted to. Phone back again and then… I was told Kailand had been taken away. Being brought back to the airport. Put on a flight. Which flight? Wouldn’t tell me? What time? Hung up on me. Dose. Wouldn’t speak to Kailand about milk again until she was back in L.A, eating some Thanksgiving turkey and egg nog. So that was a balls. Continue Reading »

Umm, I Only Have One Shoe

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I remember back in 4th year of school when I had to do work experience. The first week a few of us managed to get to be in the same clothes shop, working together. This was ideal, obviously, seeing as we all really wanted to be clothes sales men when we grew up. The very first morning, we were waiting outside for the shop to open, it never pays to be early! Just standing around, talking about the latest Scooter song I imagine. I was standing just off the curb, kicking it gently while discussing the brilliance of the German band. Not too sure how exactly, but I managed to hit the curb at such an angle with my right shoe, that it somehow erupted my shoe open. Weirdly, the front top of my shoe flew off, so I was left with 3/4’s of a shoe, and my nice white sock.

For the entire day I felt I needed to explain to the owner and the other employees, what had happened. Over and over to them. I wanted to ensure them that I had a pair of shoes to my name. And wasn’t a pie-ball who would just show up wearing 1 and 3/4 shoes, with my sock flapping about. Although seeing as they were the only pair of shoes I did actually have, as opposed to a few pairs of runners, I had a problem. At the end of the day, I was given a lovely pair of leprechaun style shoes. Shiny black with a nice big fake silver buckle on them. And then told they would be my payment for a week’s work, whereas everyone else was going to get an expensive pair of jeans. I was gutted. And felt like a gimp in those horrific shoes. At least they did make me want to do a jig whenever I wore them.

Back to today, and I wish I had remembered that story earlier. Well the part about explaining what happened. A similar incident occurred. Kind of. I had to go to the shop earlier to buy some food for myself. As I walked into the supermarket, reaching to grab a basket, I did something. Not too sure what it was, but I clipped one foot off another i think, and kind of stumbled. Not fell, just one of the ones where you might clip a bump on the road, and fall forward, laughing it off as you look around to see who else saw your dumbness. Except there was no bump in the supermarket floor, so I think I clipped my right foot off my left foot. And managed to burst my flip-flop apart. Fully apart too, left with two parts, so no matter what I attempted, it wouldn’t stay on my foot.

So, I was left with the easy conundrum of do I keep shopping for food, with one bare foot, or go home, sort it out, and come back? Shop on, obviously. However, this is not really a beach resort area, or a climate where flip-flops are worn too often outdoors, so even wearing flip-flops as it is gets a few glances. Wearing only one, with the other one out of view in the basket, and walking with a bit of a limp/strut, gets a few more weird looks. That part was fine. The part where I met a guy I used to work with years ago, was when it got a bit dumb. Browsing the dairy isle, bumped into him, mighty small talk all the way. He had actually seen an article of mine in the paper a while back, how was all that going, get a break yet, was I still doing the blog? Not too bad, blogaruu on, small talk. Must be tough, would I not get a proper job, no? I didn’t want to seem like a bragging gimp blurting out my good news from yesterday, so stuck with the not too bad, ploughing on, we’ll see what happens.

Around this time, he noticed that I was only wearing one flip-flop. I could see him looking down, and the puzzled yet polite look come across his face, about to ask me why I was only wearing one flip-flop. At the same exact time that he asked me this, I was distracted by an unbelievably good looking girl walking by. She was ridiculously hot. Definitely not Irish. I don’t mean it in that way, calm down. Well, maybe a bit. More so, I mean seeing as she spoke Polish to her beast of a boyfriend. Or, her friendly brother. After Mexico I can never be too sure!

While she distracted me with her non fake tan ways, I answered the question with… The flip-flop broke, I only have one now. And just left it at that. I should really have explained to him that it had just broke, and was hidden underneath the milk, eggs and turkey slices in the basket. But I didn’t, I was too distracted and left it with that simple explanation. Which led to the feeling that he wanted to give me a few bob, seeing as he looked at me in a simple, pitiful kind of way. Oh right, one flip-flop, times must be tough, huh? He didn’t actually say that, but that was the look I got. Which confused me at the time. I couldn’t figure out why suddenly he was talking to me slowly and loudly. He almost ruffled my hair, as he told me to keep on going anyways, if I’m ever stuck give him a shout, he’d try to help me out with a job or something.

At the time I thought all of this was very weird, not sure where it had suddenly came from. Now though, I think I know why. And, seeing as he said he’d check out the blog, hopefully he will too! The vague, unsure answers were not cries for help, just efforts at small talk! Read yesterday’s blog! Today I found out I have another meeting next week for a different project! It’ll all be ok! It was nice to offer though all the same. Wearing one flip-flop, coupled with not having a shave in a few days, is not a good look it seems. Although it is better than what I have had to do now that my flip-flop is broken. Those leprechaun shoes are horrendous with shorts! Oh Jesus.

Video on! This video and song had me mesmerized earlier, let me know what you think actually, mixed reaction so far…

Let Yourself Feel from Esteban Diácono on Vimeo

The music in that video is by an Icelandic guy,  Olafur Arnalds. The song is called Ljósið, and if you like it as much as I do, you can get it at

Song from Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon and side project band, whatever it is, pretty good… 

Volcano Choir

Island, IS – Volcano Choir

Who Does A Fool, Fool? Himself, Obviously


I have come a long way my friends, a long, long way. First time I ever flew into LAX, I got a dodgy bus to my destination. Second time, I got taken on a tour of the city in a taxi. The last time I flew in, I rented a car and got nicely lost. However, this time around, I had a buddy pick me up. Yes, you read that correctly, a buddy. I have friends this time around in L.A. And not the kind of friends here that I’ve met once ever in my life (if at all!) and then tell me – Don’t leave L.A! I’ll miss you too much!!! We must hang out when you’re back!!! Sure we will, sure.

On the way back to my house with my buddy, also now my roommate, but who’s splitting hairs, we decide to come up with ways of getting our roommates for April Fools’. Stuck in traffic, surprising for L.A, we have plenty of time. However, I do not have plenty of ideas. No good ones really. And all of mine seem to revolve around me, I am that involved with myself. How about we pretend I got deported? How about we pretend I was mugged? How about, after living in West Hollywood for so long, I’ll tell them I am actually thinking of going gay? I get the same response over and over… “Eh, no, they’ll just say oh right, and not care too much.” Oh right, I tell him, keep thinking.

In the end we decide he will take the keys of our roommate’s car, move her car, pretend like we know nothing, it must be stolen or towed. What a great, original, inspiring idea! We had nothing else. However, when we get home, there is no sign of her or her car. We sit and wait, still nothing. My other roommate has to go to an appointment, can’t wait around much longer. In the end, he gets an elastic band, ties it around the hose part they have in sinks here, plan J is in motion. Basically, whenever you turn on the tap like normal, the hose part was set to spray you all over, and you would be fooled, a great plan!!! I watched him do all of this, this should be noted.

My roommate has to leave, I’m at home on my own, decide to chill and watch t.v for a while, I’ll make a cup of tea first. So, I go back into the kitchen, look for a cup, find the tea bags, fill up the kettle, and soak myself. Ha ha, I thought to myself, I’m quite the ape for forgetting, lucky no one was here, I’ll say nothing, I’m no fool. Strike one.

After chilling for a while, I decide to clean up the house a bit. I dump the rubbish, clean the tables, round up dirty plates, cups, cutlery and all that. I carefully let enough water out of the tap so the spray doesn’t reach me, and do the washing up. When I finish, I notice I forgot to rinse one plate off. I’ll give it a quick, short rinse and I’ll be done. One quick burst of water later, and I am soaked again. Once again, thankfully, no one was there to witness my stupidity. I tell myself, thats it, I won’t be caught again. Surely.

Three soaks and two changes of clothes later, and I feel like a complete and utter fool. I have to mop the floor after the fifth time, the 5th time, of soaking myself. Once while washing a potato, once while cleaning my hands before cutting chicken, and the final time refilling the kettle to make a coffee, ha. I don’t really count the little squirts I got while filling up a bottle of water, twice, they only got me a bit wet so they don’t count. At this stage, I was determined to stay away from the sink, leave the elastic band on, and catch one of my roommates, any of my roommates, anyone, it had to be done.

Eventually a roommate comes home, and she heads into the kitchen with food. I shout in, asking her to get me a glass of water please, make sure its really cold, run the tap, I was so clever, the set-up was in place. She shouts back straight away “Why is there an elastic band around the spray part?” Balls. Around this time my other roommate comes in, gives me a hug to welcome me back, and asks why my t-shirt and jeans are so wet. Balls. I spill the beans, except in my version I pretend that I didn’t know about the elastic band all along. They give me a knowing nod, sure you didn’t, you idiot, and ruffle my hair. I fooled them well!!!

Later that night, my third roommate, my partner in crime earlier in the day, rings asking where his car is, where was it moved to, ha ha, very funny, good April Fools. I got a text actually saying “Dude, where’s my car?”. The girls straight away think its a wind-up, and ignore the cries of wolf, he just wants us to drive out to him for no reason. I have my doubts, but the manner of the text makes me think perhaps they are right. He is told by one the girls, we’re on the way, sit tight, we’ll be straight there, and we all go back to watching American Idol. About an hour later, and many ignored calls and texts, I call him back. Apparently he was not lying, the car is gone. The girl, whose car he was going to move earlier that day, collects him and brings him home. His car was parked in an unused driveway but still got towed. Ha, April Fools!!!

I hope this will teach fellow fools out there, do not leave your room next April Fools’ day, it’s just too dangerous out there for us!

Song of the day is this little mash-up, first person to name all the songs used gets one shiny gold Mexican dollar coin I have left from my trip… In Step by Girl Talk.

And here’s another one I stumbled upon earlier, bohemian on!!! Dance, Dance, Dance  by Lykke Li and Bon Iver.

…With Colin Farrell Playing The Lead!


For technical reasons, which I shall not get into, I have to leave L.A for a week or so and head to Mexico. Conveniently enough, spring break is on at the same time, actually a total coincidence in timing for me, but, wuu duu. I also have to fly there from San Francisco, I shall not bore you with the details as to why. I was wondering if I would continue on with this wonderful blog while I am gone, but as long as stupid stuff keep happening to me, I say blog on!

Firstly, I would not recommend wearing baggy shorts, which require a belt to keep them from falling off, while going through security check at the airport. The whole point of the trip was to keep it innocuous, up, down to San Fran, in & out of Meeheeko, back to L.A, happy days. Low profile, say nothing. Good plan.

It’s my turn to go through the metal detector when the first beep pops off and ruins my great plan. “Please check your pockets sir and try again.” I pad the outside of each of the 6 pockets in my shorts, nothing in them, go through again…beep, beep. “Please check your pockets sir and try again.” I actually check my pockets this time, metal pen in one, notepad with metal coil in the other, two batteries in one of the back pockets, I should’ve checked first time really. So, through the detector again…beep, beep. The security guy repeats himself again, adds in to take off my belt if I’m wearing one. Ah, the belt. Off with the belt, shorts almost fall down. So, I try again, getting annoyed with the annoying security guy doing his job (instead of with myself for being dumb)…beep beep beep. “Security check on row 5”. 

So another guy comes over with his big beeping wand, takes me to the side for a quick pat down. He asks me to hold my arms out, shorts close to falling off as I do, bend the knees quickly to keep them up. He’s wanding me up and down, asks me to stand up straight, I tell him I cant really, what happened to this being innocuous and low-key?!!! So after seeing his glare and dirty look, I stand up straight, arms held out to the side, shorts slide down, leaving me standing there in my nice orange pair of American Eagle boxers. Like a fool. Turns out the chewing gum pack in my back pocket was the problem. It was an empty pack too, well worth all that.

So on the flight up to San Fran, I met my first random Irish guy since I have been in L.A, so close to getting away with it. He’s sitting next to me on the aisle. While he makes small talk about seeing the incident, I notice that he has an Irish accent masked underneath an annoying American one. When he realizes I too am Irish, out comes the Irish accent in full bloom, one of those gimps. “Alright man, you’re Irish, I didn’t think you were…” and so on, as his American accent fades into an over the top Irish accent.

When he asks what do I do, I tell him I’m here trying to act and write. Trying being the key word. He tells me he lives in L.A, traveling to San Fran to meet his wife’s parents, his wife is sitting next to him, American, hi, how’s it going, all that. So where in Ireland are you from by the way, I ask him. “Dublin man, yeah, I’m an actor”. The job, I think, he might be able to give me some tips… so, are you getting much work? “Yeah, my agent has lined up a good few auditions for me next week, can’t wait, it’s going really well.” Which agency are you with, if you don’t mind me asking, I need an agent myself! “Well, it’s a friend of mine, he’s not an agent as in with an agency, he’s my agent, he’s my buddy.” Oh right, what stuff have you been in so far? “Nothing yet man, good few stuff lined up though” Are you going to acting classes? “No man, you don’t need any of that really though, my buddy was telling me, he knows people.” Your buddy sounds like an ape. And you sound like a gimp. A complete spoof.

I start to change the subject, however, every time I do, and the more he speaks, the bigger kind of spoofing ape he becomes… What part of L.A do you live in? “Well it’s more Santa Barbara than really in L.A man” SB? That’s about 2 hours north of L.A, you spoofing gimp! I ask if he’s in L.A much at all so or what? “Well I will be now, if my buddy can set up the auditions. I’ve gone out there a few times with herself.”

I go off the subjects of acting and L.A, and ask him about his visa situation, how did he sort it out? “I got married, she hooked me up”  – nods to his wife. I know people who do that, good work, at least you’re good to stay here now. But this is when he truely blossoms as a gimp. His wife, technically she is anyways, goes to the bathroom. When she leaves, he swoops in with the comment of how she is usually hotter looking, you should’ve seen her when he first met her, she’s put on a bit of weight since, but she looks so hot when she slims down. What the funk?!!! Why would you say that to me??? Well done, I believe you, good work. When she loses the (good) few pounds, and is looking great, ask her to call me. Until then, she’s all yours.

So I change the subject completely, ask a straight forward question about what part of Dublin he’s from, buddies living up there, and so on… he tells me Kildare!!! What a funking gimp, Kil-funking-dare?!!! Why bother to tell me Dublin so at all first time around??? My laughing at him at this stage throws him off a bit, he tries to change the subject this time by telling me he’s writing a screenplay, it’s going to be great. He then describes his movie which is the exact same as You, Me & Dupree, except in his version, he’d cast Colin Farrell as Dupree. I ask him has he seen You, Me & Dupree, no? Go rent it. He tells me he has more, describes another movie he’s going to write, which is the exact same as School of Rock, except in his version, he’d cast… guess who? I mention School of Rock to him, his bubble bursts, tells me he has more, pity we’re close to landing, we should talk more. I tell him I’ve no American phone yet, so I give him my Irish 088 number, an oldie but a goodie, call me, man. I was looking forward to hearing more about his new screenplay as well. The one about some big ship that crashes into an iceberg, the premise sounded good, and original. Hopefully he’ll call.

So anyways, I’m in San Fran now. I had forgotten how many homeless people there are in San Fran, while I was in my gay neighborhood bubble in West Hollywood. They are everywhere! Although, can’t knock them, they just looking for happiness like the rest of us. In the pursuit of it, you could say. Maybe there’s a good idea for a movie. I can think of a good story line already. Now, if only I could find a black Colin Farrell to play the lead role!

Song of the day is this savage chilling song, Blood Bank by Bon Iver