Dr… Fr… Ar?

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On a random note, people should really read more books. If not now, then maybe in a few months time perhaps. Blogs make you interesting, while books make you smart. I read that recently in a blog, by the way. Books are cool. Especially, entertaining books about gibberish. Also, on another separate random note, if doctors use Dr. and priests use Fr. in front of their names, in my opinion, authors should really start to use Ar. in front of their names. Just a thought.

Anyways, I had planned on doing a vlog to reveal the news which I got today. However, my laptop’s memory is almost full, so that plan must be put on ice. The tiredness levels are also high after my trip. I had to get up pretty early, and head to Dublin for a meeting. An hour max, more like 45 minutes, in Dublin. Then straight back home to good old Cork. However, the round-trip was well worth it! This is where I break the bad news. Bad news, seeing as it is actually good news, which in the past has proven to not be half as entertaining. Although, off the top of my head, has there ever actually been substantial, definitive good news?! More like little steps of progress. Which have all led me to today. Step 2 in my plan. Which is… I am dragging this out far too much… dun dun dun… I have a book deal!!! Wuu huu!

A few weeks back I met with, whom I can now call my, publishers, about writing a book. I am not too sure if I mentioned that in the blog at the time. Probably seeing as, in one way, meetings do mean something, I suppose, but at the same time they mean little until whatever it is, is definite. Take my meetings with RTE, for example. Anyways, that was a few weeks back. Today the details for the book deal were ironed out and the arrangement was finalized. 10 books, $1.5 million sign on fee, and a movie deal in the pipeline. Good deal, I think. It is amazing how knowledgeable and adept Mahalo and Google can make you appear! Now I can sit back and relax. I have made it. My work here is done. I joke. Especially seeing as I still have to actually finish the book.

I wont lie, hearing plans for your own book, is funking cool. Still a bit off, but talking about the cover, the title, the artwork, mock-ups, tying up the story arcs, the foreword, the marketing, the promotions, the book, your book, my book, is cool. Book fairs, the different regions and countries to launch the book in, prequels, sequels, trilogies, plus, obviously, the groupies that come with a book, and the invites to the Playboy mansion which should start flooding in my door any day now. If you ever want to see a publisher shift nervously in their seat, mention their favourite word… Advance! I presume as well that the royalties will be the equivalent of a number 1 Christmas song, “Fairy Tale of New York” kind of thing. Dan Brown just rang to congratulate me. I could tell he was freaked with the new competition though. I presume as well that this automatically makes J.K Rowling my new best friend? Obviously.

In case you are wondering, the 2 main things people have said to me when I told them the good news, are… 1 – “How much do you get paid?” Very surprising question, especially from Irish people. It is common knowledge that you write a book to get rich, quick. And, number 2 – “Put me in the book. Seriously, just mention my name once, somewhere.” Even a buddy, who I suspect might never had read the blog, has rang me 3 times already with that request. At least to put him in the appendix. A final weird comment I got, was being asked if it was going to be a hardback or softback book? When I told them I had no clue, didn’t even think of it at this stage, they just tutted, and said if it wasn’t a hardback, must not really be that good. So true. Tut.

All jokes aside, the best part of the book deal, is having physical evidence of progress. From now on when people ask “Who are you? What have you done?” I can at least say, I’m the idiot who wrote this international best seller. This will at least spur me on for another good while, baby steps are being made! Plus, it raises the profile. Bouncing ball kind of thing. Already talks were had about other avenues to explore, in preparation for the book release (clear your spring schedule). Overall, it was a good day. I now have two things to occupy my mind for the next few months. What will be the first sentence and the last sentence. Not sure why, ha, but thats what I thought about on the way home. Pressure is on!

Two songs, first one just came on my iTunes and haven’t heard it in a while…

Jimmy Eat World

The Middle – Jimmy Eat World

Second is one a buddy has flogged to me a few times, and it is pretty class in fairness…

Gui Boratto

Beautiful Life – Gui Boratto

Hop, Skip & A Dump

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Stop start kind of day really. Or is it start stop? Humidity might have been a factor. Mugginess is a killer. I like to think thats the reason why I can get irritable and headaches pop up when ever it is about. More than likely it is all in my head though. Which is true either way really. Managed to line up another few potential DJ gigs to keep me ticking over for the next few weeks. Plus I have started working on plans for where to live, work, pursue acting/writing and other such wonderful stuff, in anticipation for my return to L-Hey, whenever that might be. Oh, and I fell down a stairs. Kind of. The last few steps of a stairs at least. And took a nice hop off the floor when I did.

At the gym earlier, Boris wasn’t being too full on as he usually has been, which was good. I think it is because a few of his buddies seemed to be there as well. Seeing as I only had under an hour before the gym closed, I was racing through a few leg exercises, far too quickly really. Not recommended when doing squats. Between the humidity, and flying through the gym, I was a beaten docket as I left. At the same time I was leaving one section of the gym, I spotted Boris sticking his head out of the other part, and making his move as I departed. With this in mind, I bounded down the stairs. Stupid call really. It has happened a few times, where I have forgotten how dodge my legs are after squats, and nearly tumbled. As I briskly made my way down the two flights of stairs tonight, the last few steps were literally a step too far.

Dodgy left knee buckled first, should really get that checked out. Flimsy right leg followed. Thankfully I managed to break my fall by nicely hopping my shoulder off the ground, and ended up in a heap at the end of the stairs. Just lying there. At the front door. Panned out. Like a weak, defeated flower. Feeling fairly wrecked, and wondering if I had done any damage, I decided to just lie there for a minute, and suss out any potential injuries. A minute feels way longer when lying down on the ground in public. I might have lay there for longer, until I heard others coming down the stairs. Not wanting to surprise or shock Boris by having me passed out on the floor, waiting for him to scoop me up and carry me to my car, I brushed myself down, realizing only my pride and shoulder had been bruised, and off I went.

I’ll cleverly skip the part about the what is going on tomorrow. Let’s just say that hopefully my round trip to Dublin will all be worthwhile. Which would make a welcome change! If you remember my plan I wrote about before, that will give you a clue. In fact, it might merit another wonderful Vlog tomorrow to mark the occasion, which would be a bit ironic. A weak link to skip but it will have to do!!!

While I was lining up DJ gigs earlier today in town, I happened to bump into a girl I half know. And by that, I mean I dont know the half that has her name. Anyways, while I was talking to her, or listening to her complain to be exact, I noticed myself drifting away, and instead just looking in complete wonder at different parts of her body. Not in a sexual way, oh dear Lord no. In a completely bewildered way. Seeing as I think it was the first time I have seen her in the cold light of day, I only today noticed how her hands, feet, face, neck and ears were all different colours. I admit that I might be a bit obsessed with fake tan. As in my dislike and disdain for it. Still though, when someone’s skin changes from orange, to kind of green, to patchy white, back to speckled orange, I can’t really be the one who is odd for noticing it. I have forgotten how unforgiving the cold light of day can be!

However, by far the worst part had to have been the smell. Maybe I was just unfortunate to be standing down wind from her. It is chronic though. I was at least a foot away from her today. Actually, thats almost on top of each other now I measure a foot out with my hands. Say 3 feet. And I could still get the smell of a weekend old fake tan. At this stage, I prefer the smell from the dump, than that of fake tan. I would say I prefer the smell of someone’s dot dot dot, but thats just weird either way you look at it. Not something you’d really prefer to anything. Only the smell from the bathroom in the old bus station in Cork, and puke, are worse now for me. Just in case you were wondering. I am sure you were dying to know how much I do not like the orange curry powder.

Wrap it up, the heading probably outshone the rest of the blogaruu! Seeing as I am tired, time for a chilled song…

Sufjan Stevens

Casimir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens

Pro Bimbo

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I’ll try to keep this short. I am getting a burst of writing, so I need to channel it towards a script, the blogaruu might have to take a backseat tonight it seems! Like a jilted lover, I hope it wont feel too neglected. Speaking of which, I think I may know what it feels like to be in a one of those relationships where the blonde, bimbo stripper marries a rich old man, hoping he will croak quickly so that she can enjoy his money. Kind of. In the worst comparative way ever. Anyways, it is good to try out what that must be like I suppose. To help me with my decision, in case any old rich woman ever offers me like wise.

For a girl in that situation, call her either Anna or Nicole, this is how I would imagine our current situations being a tad similar. Lets say her original plan did not go as she might initially have hoped and the old man hangs around for longer than expected. I imagine when she realizes this, time must stop in front of her and gloat. Ha, time will say, looks like you’ve to stick with him longer than expected. Not so clever now, huh. Taunting her that she will just have to live with her situation, and wait until he croaks. Make the most of it, keep fit in the gym, do bits here and there to stay busy. Can’t have it all her own way, but when she is living it up and blowing his money, she can look back and smile at those boring times. Eh, which is similar, if not identical to me killing time and trying to be productive while I wait to hear back about my visa. World’s worst comparison? Quite possibly. Although I do have faith that I could easily do worse.

Today I tried to be proactive, and start lining up DJ gigs in Dublin for myself before I go back up for a bit of stand-up. Practice and an influx of money are always handy. However, knowing where to start when you don’t really know the scene in a city is a hurdle. Similar to the acting side of things here I suppose. If I knew promoters or bar/club owners in Dublin I could work some DJ charm there. Seeing as I don’t really know any, I decided to do what at the time seemed like a very productive idea. I emailed a few different venues, along with a demo sample, seeing if they needed anyone for a night or two. Similar, I imagine, to what a few dumb, bimbos might have done if they were to get proactive in their hunt for a rich old man to marry. 

Never, ever, ever, have I ever heard of someone getting a DJ job, from their credentials in an email, ha. “Hi, I DJ, I think I’m great, you will too, any chance of a night or two? Here’s a link to a demo. Cheers.” Pretty appealing offer, I think you will agree. Honestly, a dumb bimbo would have a better chance of getting herself a rich husband, by sending out an email “Hi, I’m me, here’s a photo, hope you’re rich, any chance of marriage? Thanks” than I would with mine. Unfortunately, at the time, I was imagining people working in bars and clubs all over Dublin, would stop whatever it was they were doing, throw down their work tools, and just start to dance to my demo when it started to play. Screaming at whoever it was that read my email that I had to be hired for a few nights!!! Seemed like a logic reaction to me at the time. That was until about a minute after I sent the batch of emails. Then I quickly realized I wasted too much time on that fruitless activity.

Although, one place did reply saying that they were booked out, but would be in touch if anything came up. Maybe not so dumb after all. Which doesn’t really make any sense, as I still didn’t get any joy. It has just occurred where I got the idea perhaps. Thinking back, I remember talking to a DJ from San Francisco, who is a really good DJ (like myself, I hear you think, thanks) who was asking me if I knew any venues in Dublin that might be interested in having him play, as he was doing a tour of Europe, and Ireland was not on the list for some reason. Seeing as he really wanted to check Ireland out, being 1/17th Irish himself, he emailed a few bars & clubs, but didn’t get any replies. What a chump. Wait until I tell him I at least got one reply.

I did well with keeping it short. I couldn’t jilt the blog. At least it kept me busy for a while longer than I anticipated. I’ll mark that time off on the calendar, every minute counts.

 

Supertramp

Give A Little Bit – Supertramp

And a song for the cougars… 

Death Cab For Cutie

Cath – Death Cab For Cutie

Touring

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If I thought my traipsing all over L.A was tough enough, it is far harder back here in Ireland. At least in L.A, I found myself a hub (WeHooooo) where I could walk to most places. Even if it was an hour’s walk away. On Google’s map paper, it is well do-able. The problem is that while being back in Ireland, I am based out of Cork. Where not too much happens, in the world I am just to bust into. So, meetings are usually held in Dublin. Weekly trips to Dublin are actually a good laugh, don’t mind them. Sometimes though, conveniently, meetings are held in Galway too it seems. The day after a meeting in Dublin perhaps. Handy, handy. Tours of Ireland are always fun.

Best part of all, is the way one gets from Galway to Cork… bus on! Train to Dubla from Cork. Bus to Galway, wifi on-board, from Dublin. Then a bus back down to Cork from Galway, as there seems to be no other way. 

I have realized that the problem I am developing in Cork is slipping back into my old routines too easily. The rut is calling me! More and more programs of mine are now being recorded on Sky Plus. My sleeping patterns and daily activities are heading back the way I was before I headed to L.A. I have also noticed that I am not seeing hot, new women while out in Cork. Same as before so! Era shur, I’m only joking! There are plenty of hot women from Cork. Just no new hot women in Cork.

Getting the train up to Dublin, I started to wonder was it really worth it. Going up to Dublin, to drop in a 5 minute DVD, that really the postman could’ve done. But, just to be sure it got there on time, and to try and make another good impression when I met the person, I thought it would be best to head up and hand it in, in person. Great call. Fleeced by a company in Dublin to burn one DVD. €25 for a 5 minute DVD (not even fully 5 minutes) of my stand-up “highlights”, ha, so far back in Ireland. At the time I was in such a rush that it never clicked. Now though, all those helpful smiles and best of luck comments, and then charge me that much. Some joke. You can buy 6 copies of Superbad in Golden Discs for 24 bones. And, more importantly, that DVD is actually funny.

This morning I headed off to give Rita my DVD. Pumped, yet shattered from lack of sleep and being up so early. It was a highly strange combo. Anyways, I get to the place nice and early, unlike me. My good intentions did not quite go to plan. I was asked to have it in before a meeting that was going ahead on Thursday morning. As it turns out, I was far too early for the lady who wanted the DVD, before she went to the meeting to show it to others. I’ll wait around. Yeah, she should be in, in about 2 hours time maybe. Not too sure. Good stuff. Just wait around. In the end, I just met a girl who works with her, and gave her the DVD instead. I am an efficient postman if nothing else. All the way up to Dublin, for nothing. Some waste of time. 

Next port of call was onto Galway. Meeting with Tina on Friday, plus an informal meeting with a director/producer. Network on at the Film Festival and all that! I arrive into Galway at about 5.30 from Dublin, go straight to my hotel, and check my emails. The job, received an email at almost exactly at the time I arrived into Galway, telling me that my meeting with Tina, scheduled for the next day, was cancelled for some reason. The funking berries. I was giving the person’s phone number instead, and could do it over the phone if I like. Wuu. A phone call. Can’t they be made from Cork too?

Touring Ireland for absolutely no reason. Reading that email made me feel like a complete idiot. Being honest, I was pretty close to a nervous breakdown. I could feel my mind frying. Instead of letting that happen, I ended up just trashing my hotel room. T.V out the window, messed the sheets around a bit, and left the toilet sit up. It was a mess. Well I did all but one of those things. 

However, luckily, I can be a clever idiot at times. For some reason, my brain kicked in. Sent an email to the lady in charge of the festival. One thing led to another. Ended up being invited  for drinks, a meet and greet, before a big dinner that was going on in a hotel near mine. And, conveniently, the person I came up to Galway to meet, would be at the drinks shindig. I could now meet him there instead. Wuu huu. Time to bring out the charm!

Thankfully, the informal meeting, in the quiet corner of the packed room, went very well. More information has been asked for, interest shown, up to me to deliver, blah baa baa. That 20 minute meeting made the two days of traipsing around the country well worth it. Celebrate the small victories kind of thing. Did a bit more networking for myself while at the drinks shindig. Directors, producers, and even a gay couple, who looked a lot like the couple from Mexico, were all giving me their business cards. Speaking of which, I still need to get my own made up. It is below buying a new pen on the to-do list. I just gave them my blog address in return. A mighty calling card!

Something else kind of made the 2 days of touring all seem worthwhile. Night ended normal enough. Kind of. Some guy I recognized from t.v, real country guy, no clue of his name though, started singing Dirty Old Town with me at the bar in a rowing club (random enough?). Apparently I was singing it to myself (again… ? Maybe a defense mechanism for knowing no one at these things) So, he decided, in between asking me questions in Irish, that we should both horse into a full on song. Good laugh, arm in arm with him at the bar. Me sober. Him paralytic. Me departing. Him falling off the stool. Me coming back to write my business card address on his hand. All about the networking, making my mark.

There was a better point in there that would’ve wrapped it all up nicely. However, due to being tired beyond belief, it eludes me at this moment. So, a song will have to do…

Best Coast

Sun Was High (So Was I) - Best Coast

Blissfully Unaware

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On paper, these 3 things sound good. It was hot today. Good laugh out in Dubla last night. The train back to Cork was full of women. 3 positives. You would think. However, combine a factor from each, and it actually turns fairly sour. 3 hours stewing in the potent, combined smell of sweat and fake tan, on a train, while hungover to the gills, is not the greatest way to spend a Saturday afternoon. But, can’t complain. I got an opening paragraph out of it at least. 

Unfortunately, like a text I tried to send earlier, that paragraph took me at least 20 minutes to write. It has been a slow, dumb day. The text was at least 4 times the length of that paragraph as well, one of those horrendously rambling texts I enjoy sending, every now and again. Every 5 minutes or so. In the end, I had to delete it all, due to the complete lack of sense it even came close to making, and just sent “Yes”. Which I have yet to receive a reply back from. No wonder my Dublin jinx, in a certain area, powers on.

Thursday night was looking so promising as well. Well, in the sense that a quite tasty lady, for whatever reason (drink?), was laughing at all my joke. Make that plural actually, if you count the fact I now tell the same one in Arabic. Until, that is, she broke into tears. Sad tears too. Not really the kind of reaction one hopes for. I suppose its a reaction at least. In an effort to make her feel better, and so she would stop thinking it was weird that she started crying in a crowded bar, I started to join in with her. I can now spring tears it appears. At least the acting classes in L.A have paid off in one way, well worth the money I didn’t have to pay. She appreciated the gesture, then probably found it weird. And then went to the bathroom. I didn’t wait around that long for her to come back. 17 minutes flies by on your own. (Tears? Seriously? How did I actually think that might’ve went well?)

Last night was completely different, you’ll be glad to hear. The interesting offers were flying in. Two tempting 3-some offers. Very tempting. Except the fact that neither were the good kind which one dreams of. One was a joke, I think, from a buddy and his lady friend. A joke. Definitely. I think. While the other, was from some random dude I met at the bar , waiting to order a drink. Who asked me would I be up for it, the other people involved being him, and my buddy. The same one who was with his lady friend. She got the chop it seemed. I politely declined his offer, and pretended to accept the drink he bought me. Don’t worry, I made sure to swap it for the one he bought for himself. Weird enough that I saw the 3 of them getting a taxi together afterwards.

Seeing as the stand-up was recorded this week, I am aware of how it went. The reaction to me doing stand-up last week was… “Are you serious? You’re joking?” before I went up, and “Well done, good boy, here’s a biscuit, fair play” when I came off stage. This week, the reaction was… “Are you sure? Do you want to do it again?” and then “Well, its done, better than last week.” Ha, progress in my eyes, practice makes perfect, can’t beat awkward silences and bombing. Once again the funniest part of the night, for me, was hunting down the organiser to get paid. I was literally chasing him through the bar, in one door, out the other, down one stairs, up the other, finally catching him, out of breath, in the men’s bathroom. And, catching him out when he claimed he couldn’t pay me more than last week, seeing as he only had €100 notes(?), he had no change. That works for me, the less change you pay me with, the better. My fee is steadily rising! 

Other meetings in Dublin went well. It seems. I think. Then again, who knows. Not one to jump the gun. I am unaware, it seems, when it comes to the big things. Thankfully, for my own sanity, I have found myself becoming more aware of the smaller things. I now work in tandem with my shadow to determine when I might need a haircut. Not a mirror. But my shadow. Isn’t that great work by me?! My priorities are really in order. A slow, dumb, dumb day. Half thinking of going the text route. A “Yes” blogaruu would make far more sense.

Still not sure if I even like this song too much, but, anyways, Yes.

Bloc Party

One More Chance - Bloc Party

Sans Miguel

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Being honest, now and again, I perhaps can be a bit (very) superstitious, paranoid, neurotic, estúpido, whatever you might want to call it. Nothing dumb like walking under a ladder, or a black cat running across me. That’s just dumb. My peculiarities are far more intelligent. Obviously.

For example, if I have a bad thought about something that might potentially happen in the future, I have to tap my head. Then some wood. Then my tongue. And finally my head one last time. Ha, only joking, obviously… Stupid stuff like having to play the same song first, on a playlist on my iTunes, wreck my head on a constant basis. They’re just two that happened while writing this paragraph. I have no clue at all why I even do half the stuff anymore, but in my head, if I don’t do them, I am tempting fate. Good laugh. So, with that in mind, I will just say that it has been a good week in Dubla. A productive week. Progress being made on this side of the world too. Big weeks. And baby steps. My new horrendous saying.

Moving swiftly on, my Irish stand-up debut in Dublin last Thursday was pretty funny. Maybe not so much my act, but the whole night in general. The MC could not have known that the crowd there was at least half made up of Cork folk. So, when he decided to try and mock one Cork person, only to be heckled, burnt and ridiculed back, over and over by different Cork “langers” in the crowd, it started the night off on a good note.

However, the first guy up, a dude playing a guitar and singing humorous songs related to his STD’s, did not help. At all. Purely because he was fairly good. As in actually funny. Something I was not hoping for. Setting the standard. Thankfully, the second guy up had severe anger issues. After watching the other acts in L.A, I quickly learned that alienating/abusing the crowd as a whole, is not a great route to take. From my point of view, it worked nicely. He did well freaking the crowd out enough that they would laugh at any old dope up next, as long as he wasn’t screaming at them. Happily, this was my cue. 

Since my mighty performance, feedback has been split roughly – actually, I would say exactly – down the middle. Between my buddies, and randomers afterwards coming up throughout the night, the feedback has been in two camps… “I liked it, but I thought the parts where you had banter and mocked the crowd were better, do more of that. It was good though, I was surprised” … “Funny enough, but you should stick to your routine more, keep to your own jokes. You kind of did too much stuff with the crowd. Well done though”. Seriously, it has been right down the middle. So, only fair thing to do is take bits from each feedback, and say it was a roaring success! The cherry has been popped.

Cold light of day, I need to ramble less, have more of an act (which I’ve figured out, wuu) and ensure that an angry, psychotic, weird little guy is on just before me. I might ask him if he wants to start a double act. Just one where we’re never on the same stage at the same time. Should go well. And, if anyone is wondering, by far the last guy up was the funniest. Hilarious older guy, who slaughtered two English dudes in the front row. Who were actually Australian, but nobody cared at the time. 

One good thing to almost come out of the stand-up, was the issue I have with Dublin. However, unfortunately, she was not my type. Still though, an interesting light was shone on the performance angle. Not that it made a difference. I think the ratio in Dublin is off kilter (what a brutal excuse!)

One last thing that I found funny on the night, is of how many people love asking me… “How much do you make for all this?” For all what? “All this, the stand-up, the DJ stuff, the blog, how much do you make?” Ha, how much do you make? “Ah thats different, I just want to know how much you make” Which is just a dumb conversation I had a few times that night. However, I will now divulge how much I did make for the stand-up gig.

Just as the night was finishing up, news was breaking that Michael Jackson has just died. Around this time, the organizer of the night came up to me, thanks for doing it and all that, here’s the money, and slipped it into my hand. Then, he quickly scurried off. I was finding out if the news about his death was true, so didn’t even check the wad for a few minutes. When I did, I started to laugh. €20. Wuu! No wonder he ran off so fast. That is going in my next act, some funking joke.

The blog has been in hiatus for a few days. Still though, song of the day will have to be a tribute to Michael Jackson. Fair enough he might not have been a saint or anything, but, for me, definitely the greatest entertainer ever. And this song showed he could still produce gems!

Michael Jackson

 You Rock My World

Lack Of Action

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I shall not lie, I have never really gotten on well with Dublin. Or in, to be exact. Probably not for reasons which other people may have either. Proper city, multi-cultured, variety, more than a handful of clubs and pubs, all of that stuff that you would expect from a big city. However, something always bugged me about Dublin. And, being honest, I know exactly why. It is the home of my kryptonite. I never have any joy here. At all. If you know what I mean. Obviously there are plenty of reasons why this might occur, but anywhere else in the world, these factors do not seem to all converge together at once. Whatever it may be, no matter how hard I try, I just never clicked with Dublin, in that sense. 

Worst part of all, is that the talent up here is pretty good. In fact, today for example, it was fairly savage. Once again though, I got a sign that the lack of action streak would continue for me up here. While walking down Grafton Street, I was trying to multi-task. Phone and bottle of water in one hand. A banana, apple and iPod in my other hand. (Wallet, tic-tacs and notepad in my pockets, so I was weighed down). Trying to eating a second full banana, hands free, so it was sticking out of my mouth. And all the time, trying to get through the busy street towards Temple Bar, while admiring the hot women that were window shopping. It was a lot of multi-tasking. Which I managed to do well. Until I walked into one of the waist high poles that are along the street.

Seeing as, obviously, I never saw the pole, I was fairly surprised at why there was a sudden, sharp, sickening pain coming from my groin area. I thought somebody had kicked me in the rucksack. And left their foot there. My first reaction was to give an inquisitive… Awww?…  which, in turn, forced the full banana to pop out of my mouth, and onto the ground. Trying to grab the banana, I almost sent my iPod flying which made me grab out and fling an apple across the street. Kindly, an old lady picked up the now  3/4’s left banana off the gorund, and handed it back to me. Which I had to throw into the bin, not being a fan of dirt. And I think she took that as insulting, somehow.  

The whole affair was slapstick, brutal and dumb as funk. Two girls who were window shopping next to me, just stood there and gave me a pitiful look. I think they might have thought I was actually remedial in some way. Not far off, perhaps. I was in too much pain to try and pretend to be cool, walk it off, so I just told them… I’m cool girls, come on, I swear, I am coool, give me another chance! Too late. Once again, trying too hard. That all too familiar sign, which I always get in Dublin. Not going to happen buddy. The pole in the groin is the most action I will be getting up here.

Not to worry though, progress being made on other fronts. Managed to get around to a load of different places today, network on, my level of information and knowledge is growing more and more. Plus, a meeting has been arranged in RTE for this Friday, happy days. And, also, last night I got good news about visa options. I know have two routes available to me. Depends on a few factors, but looking promising. To an extent.

One area, where I might not be as ready as I thought I might have been, is for my stand-up gig tomorrow night. Being honest, I thought I’d get 7 minutes together fairly quickly, an hour or two. Bob hope. I can talk away for 7 minutes fine. It is just not 7 minutes of laughter. In fact, from what I have tried out so far on my able guinea pig (go on the Rink) I do not think I even got 7 laughs. Or half laughs. The best, so far, has been, “Yeah, that might be good. Just don’t use it in the stand-up.” My best joke didn’t even get a half laugh! I am goosed.

Now that I think about it though, he could be wrong. Actually, he is definitely wrong. The blame for the lack of laughter, like the lack of action, is obviously not down to the quality of jokes. Or myself. It is blatantly the people I am wasting these golden lines on. Just not cool or clever enough to get them, I suppose. Obviously. (Worst part of all this is, I am thinking of using that tomorrow night. Oh sweet Jesus).

Song of the day…

Knotty Pine

Knotty Pine - Dirty Projectors & David Byrne