Tag Archives: DJ

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

Two Sec’s There

Leave a comment

It would appear that this name is beginning to stick, when it comes to me and DJ’ing. Or a hybrid of it, Tsector perhaps, I am not sure how it is that the people not understanding what I say, might spell it. Not too sure how I feel about the name, but, who cares really.

Yesterday was a glorious day of DJ’ing. After trying to be clever and prepare six hours worth of music for two gigs, I ended up just making them up as I went along. My new evening stint in the gym is looking promising. Not that are paying me or anything for it (yet, talks of it yesterday), just the fact that it is the busiest time in the gym, more people are coming up to me giving me good feedback, and, most importantly, there are double the amount of good looking women in there at that time, than there usually are when I play during the day. On the down side, unfortunately I can no longer say I pleasure a room full of gay men anymore. Now it is half and half. Although one guy did come up to me and tell me that he didn’t like my A-Ha remix. The way he said it though, with a tut and a huff, made me play him my Rick Astley remix straight away. If I was to lose a fan, I might as well fully lose him, tut, huhh.

That gig went well over the two hour mark (it is tough to say no to requests from certain girls in there) so I was in a bit of a rush for my first night DJ’ing in the bar by me. Seeing as I had bob all time to prepare for that gig, I decided I would go through the decades, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s. 90’s and oo’s, and so on and so forth. A playlist of 10 hours to choose from, I was good to go. First ever gig in a bar, in Hollywood, with just me and my laptop, I was a tad apprehensive. However, a bar tab of all you and your friends can drink, took the edge off a bit. There was never really a need to worry, the music sold itself. I am convinced the main two things you need to DJ are: cop on, and good music. I at least have the good music part. The rest can be dealt with. Mighty work if you can seamlessly mix two songs beat for beat, perfectly in synch, with each other, the crowd did not even notice, but if they are crap songs, who cares. My view at least. Not that I wouldn’t like to be able to do what DJ AM, for example, can do, but it is all about the baby steps!

Now that I know, I should have gotten into the DJ’ing malarky a long time ago. Purely as it is one of the easiest ways, in the world, to get women to approach you, and use brutal lines, on you for a change. Anyone out there thinking of giving it a go, do it! On the down side, “Oh my gawd, what song did you just play? And what are you playing now? And what will you play next?” are three fun questions I encountered over and over last night. The reason I know the majority of them really cared as well about the music, was by the way the majority of them either walked away/zoned out while I was telling them the names of the songs/bands.

The bar is not a poser, full on model, look at me, who are you, kind of bar. So when I say I was trying to juggle three or four different conversations with different girls at one stage, I am not trying to give the impression that they were all the prettiest flowers in the pot. But, it did lead to me telling a group of them, again, two sec’s there, while I mixed a song or two, and all of them to ask, “Whats tsecstor? Where are you from?”.

I had told my buddy of the other girl in the gym who first mixed up what I was saying, so he informed them that it was my DJ name, DJ Tsector, to which they bizarrely liked, and squealed loudly over. Odds are they probably did not understand in the slightest the explanation, or anything that was actually said, well at least not by me.

As the night progressed, and the free bar tab continued to flow, the music got better and better. The place was rocking! Even if the crowd don’t know at first don’t know the song, “Where’s Me Jumper” by the Sultans of Ping is a good song to get them both pumped, and inquisitive. Bar the fact that my laptop, again, crashed at one stage mid song, and that one girl unwittingly unplugged a lead (tough for someone like myself with minimal wits at best to figure out what just happened) the night could not have gone much better. Oh, and playing the same song twice, in the space of about 4 songs, although nobody noticed except me, I think. They probably did then notice when I just got it off 1/3 of the way through but we live and learn!

It is fair to say that the drink might have clouded my judgement about last night, but I’ll ignore this if you do.The manager asked me back the following week, trial was over, money on, wuu huu. Although I had to disappoint her by letting her know I would be in San Francisco for the week. Genuine disappointment too, like the girl in the gym who works Thursday nights, asking if I was coming back next week. DJ’ing has turned the tables, so to speak, girls are now no longer happy to see me leave, I am now leaving them disappointed!

After all my talk about how DJ’ing was the best way to get girls to chat you up, I obviously went home alone. Obviously. Although, I do have the excuse that I had to get up early for a meeting! Obviously that was the only reason why. Forget the other long, long list of possible reasons. A great day.

Two songs of the day… Where’s Me Jumper by Sultans of Ping

And girls here are big fans of this song it seems… So Rich, So Pretty by Mickey Avalon

The Beautiful People

2 Comments

Today was my day of being the music man. I had it set aside, get three music playlists finished today. Worst call ever. I am sick to death of music. I thought it would be mighty, music all day, wuu, wrong, especially seeing as they are three different types of playlists that I have to prepare. One is for the gym (I like to keep it fresh, different music every time, ha, ape), one is for the 4 hour gig in the bar tomorrow night (rock, indie, punk kind of thing) and the final one was a half hour demo for the new club that has yet to open, the one I have already been in, that one.

So I had gym music, bar music, and club music, all mashed into one, all day long. Roughly 2 hours, 4 hours and a 1/2 hour. That is a fair amount of hours to be trying, fruitlessly, to do three different genres at once. By the way, do you know how long 4 hours is? As in music terms? 60 – 70 songs, I was told, which is a lot of songs. Particularly when I use my shrewd method of matching similar songs to improve my mixing, horrendous, I think I will have to formulate a new strategy. Plus the girl told me her bosses will be in, so it is my chance to shine and nail a regular slot. Happy days, although I did get stumped when she asked me for my DJ name, anyone have any good suggestions? Tricks, Trickaduu, Tsector, Two Secs There, and World’s Worst are what I’ve been mulling over.

The other two major activities I did today, were working on my sitcom, and buying groceries. Which provided me with material for the sitcom, as a walk in L.A almost always does. Firstly, while waiting to cross the road, I overheard two people talking. It went a bit like this… “I must tell you, I think you are so, so, so nice” – she was interrupted here by the other lady, who swooped in with – “Oh my gosh thank you! You are so nice too, I’m so glad we met” – first lady continues on… “but, as I was going to say, I think you and your dog are idiots. We shouldn’t go to the dog park anymore together”

Ha, it was hilarious. Unfortunately the light went green and they stayed on the same side of the road while I slowly forced myself to cross over, so I didn’t get how the rest of the conversation went. I presume, it went very well! If only the slightly less plastic looking ladies had waited for her friend to finish her sentence!

Second incident was with a girl in the vegetable isle, who wanted to know if I was excited to watch American Idol tonight “Only a few left now, oh my Gawd, I cannot wait”. If there is one thing I was not looking forward to, it was that horrendous show, particularly after a day of music, even if it was polar opposite (i.e good to Idol’s bad, my view at least). So, I duly told her, no, not at all, I only listen to traditional Irish music, and techno, at the same time, which she did not understand, in the slightest. She did get a bit offended though when she got the gist that I did not like American Idol “Oh, well you could at least keep me happy and pretend to be excited about it too” Again, I duly obliged, and gave her a fake wuu, wuu duu, wuu, and punched the air, Harvey Milk style. This also did not make her happy! What the funk?! “Oh my gawd, no need to be sarcastic about it, I never said you had to like it”. Ok, let me just pick out a few carrots then and I’ll be gone. 

Finally, when at the till, paying for my carrots et al., the guy sitting there asks where I am from, I R land, I’ll take paper bags please boss. “Well I’ll be damned, an I R ish man, and a guy from a little farm in Arkansas, interacting in L.A, Hollywood no less, who would’ve thought that?!” Yeah, that is just amazing… how?! “Well, you know, who would’ve thought that? I certainly would not have, did you ever think it?” Again, what the funk?! No, I would not have thought of that, just like people a hundred years ago would not have thought of the internet, or the iPod, before they all happened, unless of course they went on to invent them, or whatever, you get the gist. It made no sense whatsoever to me! To keep him happy, I gave him a wuu and a Harvey Milk too, which at least seemed to please him more than the girl, as he gave me a wuu back, even if it was more reserved.

Thats about it, thats my day. This post has been a bit rushed. I was going to do a whole post made up entirely of song titles, I had it all planned today (I have a bit of free time here and there to mull these things over). However, I have been invited to go along to the Maxim Hot 100 party!!! Wuu huu, Harvey Milk all the way!!! Time to go bring the level of good looking people down a few notches. I wonder if they rate us as we enter the door or how it works? I’m just happy to be in the top 100 people. Who would’ve thought it, huh, a dope from Ireland with a disposable camera in amongst some hot women?

I actually have the post time delayed, so if I get back early for any of the following reasons: too ugly to be let in; my buddy hasn’t put me on the guest list; get kicked out for having a disposable camera, or numerous others which I don’t have the time to write, I’ll do my great song title paragraph or two! You must be so excited! Go Harvey Go!

Song of the day was going to be The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson, but his version of Tainted Love might be more user friendly…

Strange Day

Leave a comment

Today has been a tad strange. Surprisingly, I mean that as a good strange, an unexpected strange. After the night’s sleep I had, I think the level of productivity I actually achieved is what has thrown me off. For numerous reasons last night (noise, dogs barking, the heat, drunken singing from downstairs, etc.) I got very little sleep. However, the main culprit, who kept me up from 4 in the morning until roughly half 6, was a fly.

There comes a point, when you are after laying in bed for 4 hours, battling to sleep, and you hear something small and innocuous, that you can make one of two choices. Either ignore the buzzing noise that is slightly bothering you, wade through it, keep your eyes shut and doze off. Or, as I did, open them slightly, focus fully on that little buzzing sound, and ruin all your good work. For far too long last night/this morning, I chased a fly around my room. Up the walls, out one window and in the other, running around in circles like a mad man in my boxers, chasing a noise (I only saw the fly a few times). It was all quite… nay, extremely stupid. However, the previous disturbances had me at my wits end so I was determined not to be beaten by a fly.

In the end, all the chasing around tired me out and I dosed off, not sure what time, after 6.30, it was bright outside, and I could hear people pottering around. This was a sober night too, which made it all the worse! I had forgotten that I set my alarm for 10 the next day, so when it piped up, I oddly sprung out of bed at first go, as if my body clock thought I was late for an exam or something along those lines. Standing there, again, like a mad man in a crunched position, in just my boxers, wondering why I had just jumped out of bed at first go, and why was I not so tired after such little sleep, a little buzz in my ear reminded me of the disastrous sleep I had just experienced.

The fly was back in the morning and he was taunting me, darting around my head, buzzing in my ear, whispering insults and ridiculing me, I felt like I was being bullied. When it landed on my right shoulder, I swung blindly for it, missed it, obviously (the fly was far more clever than I could possibly be at that hour) and ended up hitting myself in the shoulder. Again, the fly taunts me by staying close, moving to my lower left back, where once again, like a dumb fool, I swing, miss, and wallop myself in the back, like a slap to the kidneys. At this stage, my lack of sleep is kicking in, I think I am close to losing my mind, let it go, it is a fly, and close my eyes, lifting my head towards the ceiling and taking deep breaths to calm down. Buzz, buzzzz and I feel it brush off my nose. I swing inwards with both hands, flailing wildly, thankfully missing my own face but ending up slumped back on my bed, beaten, distraught, and close to tears.

As I open my eyes and look up, I see the fly across the other side of the room, buzz buzzing at me from a distance, as if he was able to throw his voice, ventriloquist style, just to make me looker stupider. He wins, I leave the room, and let him celebrate, leaving me a broken man, and not yet even had breakfast. As you might tell, as I was eating my porridge, and staring down the barrel of a gun, I did really not expect today to go well, the start alone indicated it would be disastrous.

Strangely, by the time lunch swung around, I was after confirming a meeting this week with the head of the Irish Film Board here in L.A, applied for a website idea competition malarky thing, and managed to be given a successful template which I could use for my sitcom pitch, if and when the time comes around to do so. The template is brilliant, allows me to condense all I want to say, clearly and simply into a 60 second spiel, with the right buzz words, comparisons etc. all laid out. 

After lunch, a wave of stand-up material came to me, the material was flowing! I also realized that my opening line, which has actually worked twice, is not as good as it should be. Something in the context like “Oh, this is my first time doing stand-up and I think I might be crap because I’m not funny and no one laughs at my jokes” is not a great thing to tell the audience, at the start of a stand-up. I thought reverse psychology would be good, but thinking about it, those laughs were not as hearty as I would’ve liked them to be. It is kind of like telling a girl, just as ye are about to, ahem, that, oh, I should warn you, it’s my first time, I will not be that good, but look, we’ll give it a go, and who knows, we might at least get a laugh at how bad I actually am at doing it! Same for all walks of life, who wants a plumber who tells them it is her first time doing this job, or a mechanic who warns you that he is crap, but we’ll plough on! (I hope you appreciated my his and her equality statuses!).

Finished the day off by going to the gym, strangely a couple (guy and girl, could be brother and sister too I suppose) randomly came up to me and asked me why I don’t DJ at night in there. I told them I wasn’t too sure, just had been asked to do days, I suppose evenings would be more fun, busier and all. They nodded and left. They then must’ve went to the manager and came back to tell me they got me Thursday and Friday evenings when it would be busier if I wanted to do them – DJ on Thursday and Friday evenings, not the couple, obviously – the manager had said it was cool. Ok… cheers, thanks for that? See, I found that strange, at the time at least, but maybe thats just me?

And, in case you are wondering, the fly was not hurt. We are now friends, and he is curled up next to me in bed. The strange part is, he is almost finished reading my book before me!!! Wahey boss! Oh Jesus, brutal, I should’ve finished up with the last paragraph.

Song of this strange day is this mighty mash-up… Shut Up And Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand – Ting Tings – DJ Y Alias JY

Don’t I Know You…?

2 Comments

Sometimes, it is true, it can pay to be lazy. And here is why it paid for me today. Woke up this morning, washed my face, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and proceeded on with my morning rituals. However, this morning I was too lazy to stand for the final part of the ritual, and instead sat down. This was key! As I sat down, my mind was allowed to wander off, and I ended up coming up with 3 full outlines for 3 episodes of the sitcom I am planning on writing next week. Which is more than my brain has offered in about the last week or two alone, so it was big. Thankfully, I had my notepad and pen handy, so now “Who’s Your Paddy?”, “Seeing Stars” and “Forgive Me Father” have been outlined! A mighty day!!! (If you have been reading the blog, you might be able to piece them together. If not, tut tut, get reading).

In case I have not made it too clear, seeing as every man needs my plan, I have a new plan. That is, go to San Francisco next week, stay with my cousin, get productive, and write my sitcom pilot at least. Then, come back to L.A, pilot in hand, and get at least a scene made to have a visual to accompany the reading material. A mighty plan that only took me about a week or two to finally decide on. I would be moving out of my current abode, but not to worry, I found a place two streets over from here that is good to go, wuu. And, BAFTA have been contacted, my link in there told me I am pending at the moment in my application, they want to see progress on the sitcom first. Which is more mighty motivation to get it down and good to go. 

All of this was sorted before lunch. However, lunch itself took a bit of a dip. As I was making a sandwich, a friend (kind of, LA kind anyways) called over for a while with her dog, to talk about random stuff, as she likes to sporadically do now and again. Perfect timing “Oooo, that looks nice, could you make me one?” I’m on the bread line, but couldn’t really say no to a slice or two of bread and some turkey, sure, no problem, my last two slices, I can’t say no now, you see I have at least two left, balls. “Oooo, put some of that on it. Oooo put a tomato on it too. Oooo and some of that, make it up big just like yours.” Which was fine, my sandwich was appealing looking, I couldn’t blame her. Well, fine until I gave it to her, she took a bite of it, then started rambling on, about God only knows what, and feeding the majority of the sandwich to her dog! I zoned out fully, just watching the dog mock me as he ate my bread and food, licking parts of it and then not eating it, just so no one else could eat it. Her dog could sense I am on the bread line, the way he was toying with my bread to the fullest, then spitting it out to rub it in. They will not be let in from now on, I will tell you that much!

After lunch, I manage to resume back to slowly but surely sorting stuff out. A friend who DJ’s and promotes wants me to make a demo to give to a new club that is opening in Hollywood (although I have already been there?) It would be savage to get that gig. Especially seeing as I am DJ’ing all of 3 weeks. Better make a savage demo! I was also informed that my gig on Thursday would be paid, pending. Pending it goes well. Otherwise, I will just be playing music and given a bar tab of maybe $100 – $150, for food or drink on the night. So, the first DJ stint I got, pays me through free gym membership, and the second one pays me, basically, with free booze. At least that anyways. Balances out well really I suppose. Half thinking of going to the local Trader Joe’s offering to DJ in exchange for food. I will be fully equipped in my bartering ways then – food, drink and gym!

I’ll finish up with a story of why it is sometimes better not to recognize someone out loud. And how it can be strange seeing someone outside of where they work. Earlier on I was in a supermarket near my house, re-stocking up on bread if my memory serves me right. Anyways, there are two queues, side by side. I am in one, dawdling away, swinging around, bored. I notice a girl in the queue next to me, and I recognize her face from somewhere, I know her. However, I have no clue from where, but the feeling I saw her on some night out starts to become apparent in my head. Still no clue where though, so I squint a bit more to dig deep and find the memory.

We’re almost parallel in the queues, I am trying not to gawk at her to remember, when I see she notices me too, and the look of her recognizing me dawns across her face. She turns away slightly, as if embarrassed, I look even more as I feel the swell of drunken flashbacks coming from somewhere but which then die down. We catch each others looks again, so I just ask her, sorry, don’t I know you from somewhere? She tells me “I’m not sure, you do look familiar though, where am you from?” The minute I say Ireland, I can see a look of knowledge sweep across her face, then she pulls back. This triggers me off, I know now! The, eh, dancing club at the top of my street!

Cue a bit of embarrassment by her, maybe she doesn’t know me actually, she now claims, maybe not. You do, I tell her, I met you on Saturday, you work in the club, don’t you? Yes, she does, that was it, what’s your name again, oh yeah, thats it! (Lets call her Jane). At this point Jane introduces me to her friend John, also in the queue (it was a long queue by the way, ha). So, my memories are flooding in, she says she does remember me now, didn’t she serve me a drink, yeah, that was it. My memory is flying at this stage, oh no you didn’t, I gave you a dance, thats how I know you! Your friend, or work mate, was the other girl who tried to drag me away! You do look a bit different now, however I suppose we are in a different climate and surroundings, you’re not in your work clothes this time, true true, and also the fact that I’m not the only one wearing clothes this time around.

My final memory was that she had given me her number, to call her some time. Reasons I didn’t were two fold – forgot she had even given me her number, and it is pointless getting numbers off girls here, as my past experiences have highlighted. However, I feel I should make an excuse for not texting, so I say sorry about that, I was going to text, but eh, I had a busy few days sitting on my toilet writing my sitcom. She gives me an inquisitive look, I didn’t give you my number kind of look, shut up look. I, on the other hand, think she doesn’t remember, remind her that she did give me her digits, telling me to text or call her some time.

At this point she makes it quite clear that she definitely didn’t give me her number, this was her boyfriend John, I must have gotten her mixed up with another girl. I look to the ceiling and quickly re-jog my memories, then cop on what she was telling me. Oh right. Well, no it was definitely you, but, eh, anyways, I’ll be off, nice seeing you again, good meeting you John, ciao ciao.

At least, once again, it proves my point, the point which I have been making from day one, and which we all know rings true every day. And that is… ehh… when you’re on the bread line, don’t literally give away your last two slices of bread.

Song of this fine day is… Woman (MSTRKRFT Remix) by Wolfmother

Decisions, Revelations & Confrontations

Leave a comment

Towards the end of last week, I had been running aimlessly around my head, like a headless chicken. It seems I like to have the storm well before the calm, letting stupid thoughts race senselessly through my head, and end up physically not doing too much, but mentally exhausting myself. And probably still not end up coming to a satisfactory conclusion to whatever conundrum was bothering me. It really is an excellent system I have put together for myself.

My conundrum was related to issues such as rent, what will I do with being so broke, visa issues, what will I do next on my quest, am I really doing enough to get where I want to be, where is it I actually do want to be, and so on and so forth. So I did what I usually do – ask everybody and anybody, who will listen long enough, for their advice, putting off making a decision as long as possible. I like to fool myself by thinking that if I ask everyone for their opinion, it is somehow a way of me being productive? With that in mind, I managed to get about an evenly matched amount of exactly opposite and differing advice. Again, an excellent system I have come up with.

Thankfully, I put the decision making process to the back of my mind and ended up having a great weekend. A few revelations were also, eh, revealed to me over the weekend. Such as, when talking to a girl in a bar, and her friend blatantly does not like you and wants you to leave, bringing up herpes, does not really help your cause “Look, I’m sorry, but for you, I’m like a case of herpes. No matter how much you try to get rid of me, I will keep on coming back.” It got a laugh, at least. Off me, in my head. Did not go down to well with the girl’s friend. Led me to believe she may have herpes, ha, only possible conclusion really for her not laughing.

Another revelation confirmed to me was that I start a new DJ job on Thursday, wuu huu, looks like it will be a paying one too, happy days. Not really the gym mix I am used to, however, it should be an easy remedy. My buddy suggested playing the originals of the remixes I play, and, it fits the bill to a tee, 4 hours is long but the healthy bar tab they are throwing in on top of the offer should help me pass away the time.

My mentor/writer friend also revealed a challenge he had for me. Not only should I go to San Francisco for a week or however long and write my sitcom pilot, I should also develop one 3-5 minute scene which would showcase the pilot. With this, I could come back to L.A, and try to use my connections with people I have met, i.e homeless guys and gay gym buddies, to try and get that one scene made. Then, not only would I have a pilot script in my hand for people to read, I would also have a scene for them to watch. Throw that scene up online, hopefully get feedback off people, with even more hope it might be good feedback, and I could have the ball rolling towards the sitcom. Some funking revelation or plan or whatever you want to call it!

Changing the pace, style and tone of the revelations, another was the fact that my buddy in the club at the top of my street, has not cut me loose on his friend’s list. This was found out last night while getting out of the taxi by my house with two buddies. To celebrate this, Jim suggested we should go inside, again, it took a lot to twist our arms. I decided to hold back on the priest line this time around, instead opting for… Oh, in Ireland, the guys dance for the strippers, so if you like, I’ll dance for you. Oddly, I was taken up on the offer a few times. And, even more oddly, I realized it is a great way to make strippers jealous, ha. “No, he is going to dance for me”… “Get away, he is dancing for me now, back off b**ch”. I stumbled onto something strange, where I ended up having two girls trying to drag me off in different directions, to dance for them? If only I could actually dance, ah, deary me (although in some circles, I am a mighty dancer!).

This weekend I have also being having an on-going confrontation with my toilet. A few more randomers than usually have been using it due to a couple of shindigs going on in my house. Today, it started to growl and gargle at me, like a gargoyle (? brutal, I know). Slowly but surely, it started to rise up like a phoenix, clamoring its way to the surface. Me, being at times a bit too smart it turns dumb, decided to just ignore it, the problem would fix itself. Finally, after I flushed the toilet in hope that that might fix it, then deciding maybe one more flush was all it needed, the toilet won our game of chicken and celebrated in unbridled joy, spilling out over the edges. My weekend was capped off wonderfully with one last dance involving a bin bag, my toilet and I, great fun had by all, knee deep and elbow deep in fun really.

Actually, no, that was not how my weekend finished. It actually ended with one last revelation. That being, when the girl who offered me the DJ’ing job in the bar texted me asking if I wanted to come down to the bar for a few free boozes, it may not be the best idea to have replied with the truth. Which was me telling her I couldn’t, I was too busy doing a dance with my toilet. And how I was up to my elbow in, eh, fun. Which obviously got lost in translation, and which I am still in the process of explaining to her exactly what I meant. And how it was not meant in an insulting way. And yes, I still do want to DJ on Thursday. All misunderstood from my honest text? What a load of… fun!

Three songs of the weekend that kind of sum up my weekend, yet, in another light, don’t really sum it up at all, ha… Get On Your Boots (Justice Remix) by U2

Number 2… Too Many Dicks On The Dance Floor by Flight of The Conchords (I couldn’t find the remix I have but anyways)

And finally, the third song of the weekend… After Laughter Comes Tears by Lykke Li ft El Perro Del Mar