I had been dreading going into fifth year purely down to Dirk coming to stay with me. The German students were due back for two weeks at the start of October for their portion of student exchange. At least we got two weeks off class at the start of the year to go do more work experience.
Despite the fact I was now sixteen, meant to be more mature and entering an important year of school, dossing off class was always a highly attractive incentive. Still, the thought of hanging around with Dirk and having him in my house was depressing. If only I had a secret indoor pool and gym area to keep hidden from him. Alas, I didn’t. The gods did smile down on me though.
Two weeks before they were due to arrive our German teacher Ms. O’ Golden informed me that Dirk had failed his summer exams and his repeats. This would mean Dirk had to repeat the entire year. He wouldn’t be able to come stay with me in Ireland.
“What? Seriously? No way!”
Did a victory lap of the classroom in celebration. Couldn’t believe my luck. The Mirk and Dirk Show had been canceled!
Ms. O’ Golden waited until I calmed down before telling me another boy had asked to take his place, Marcus.
“Oh yeah, I remember him. He got us tickets to the soccer game.”
Marcus reminded me a bit of Barney, the purple dinosaur children’s character. Tall and goofy, with a big fluffy head of light brown hair that just bobbed around as he spoke with a smile. Good laugh when I met him that time at the soccer game before. Still though, do I want him staying with me?
“So would you mind if he stayed with you instead? It’s up to you entirely, you’re not obliged.”
“In that case I would mind. I prefer to have no one stay with me.”
So the other day I got this wonderful letter in the post from a blogaruu reader which I thought I would reply to…
Just wanted to say great hair! Also. What have you been up to lately?
Goodbye for now,
Howdy yourself, Murk Waters, great to hear from you. Thanks for the hair compliment too, very kind. I’m sure you’ve a fine flowing fro yourself as well. Actually, did I tell you I recently got a haircut? Here’s a photo some clown took of it… Continue Reading »
Rollin’ & Scatchin’ (Chilly Gonzales Rework) – Daft Punk
While Ireland is being battered by all angles at home, it seems, I too have some important news to start off with: Got a hair cut this week. As opposed to a haircut. Hairdressers truly do baffle me. Ask for one thing, forced to deal with the some thing they give back. Tried to be as specific as possible. Almost as if I was asking them to do me this one favour, just one time. Please? Even had photos to help me describe what it was that I wanted. Hairdresser just looked at me. Down at me. Disgust. Contempt. Perplexed. Nonplussed?! All of the above. Eyes to heaven. And then went off and did her own thing. Cut one hair here. Cut half a hair there. Chat with her buddies. Slipped off to the bathroom. Still not finished. Please wait. Chilling and twirling in the chair while she disappeared. Returned. Did not cut one more hair. Decided, actually, she was finished. My hair was exactly as I had described. Twirled me around in the seat to show me the back of my head in the handheld mirror as if this was some sort of fool-proof proof that she did exactly as she was asked. Fooled me. Couldn’t see myself properly with their flattering light. Went to the bathroom to see if that was any better. Even worse. Made me look better. False light and smoke mirrors everywhere. Continue Reading »
I wonder how Conan is dealing with it. I assume we’re both in the same boat. I’m with you, Coco. Exact same boat really. Except mine is more of a dingy. And his is a $40 million yacht. Besides that though, exact same boat. Finished one project. Now. Then. Right. In the back of my mind, I was expecting a black abyss. The black abyss. Land of the unknown. Each thought laced with… oh Jesus, what to do, nothing to do, what do I do?! Not exactly panning out like that though. Seeing as I do know what I must do. No abyss. Maybe just a mental week off. Chilling. All making me realise. Retire when you’re dead. People must go mental when they retire. Seriously. Fun at first. Then. Passing time. Just like kidney stones. Buckets of fun. Continue Reading »
Who wants to hear a ridiculously pointless story?! Ah well, it’s not ridiculously pointless. Ah well, it actually is. Maybe not completely pointless. To one person. Probably just the one. Probably. Although if you are one of the many people who have ever felt the need to insist I should comb my hair, maybe you might find it of note. Probably. Not. Thing is. I just remembered. How big a combed head I used to be. Immaculate parting. Straight as an arrow. Splitting hairs. Like a landing strip. White line down the centre of my head. Nicely tanned during the summer. Brazilian. Or whichever one that is. Perfect divide. No stragglers. East. West. A combing king. King Combs! Bit of Brylcreem. Followed by a quick flick of a brush. Either side of the Berlin Wall. Little bit of a fringe. Check in the mirror. And. I. Was. Dancing! Continue Reading »
It has been a week of numbers. Hit and miss. A fruitless week might be another good way to describe it. Well, maybe a few nuggets of productivity, scattered amongst a field of frustration and stop-starts. However, it was Tuesday that started my decline, from which I never fully recovered. Literally I had a fairly bad hair day, succumbing to getting not one, but two dodgy haircuts. Oddly enough, since then, the amount of people to mention to me that I should really go get a haircut for myself, has risen. Unfortunately for them, number 3 is not on the cards anytime soon.
This week I had 4 gigs lined up, 3 DJ and 1 stand-up. Yes I know, I(think)’m brilliant. Oddly, the stand-up one was probably the best of the lot. If I never have a stranger gig than that one though, I will be disappointed. It was bizarre. To start, lets just say it was intimate. As in not the usual amount of people were there, the numbers were down from the hundreds that regularly pack into the venue. For some reason, the atmosphere was ridiculously tense. I suppose the fact a couple were breaking up at it, a family with jet lag didn’t really respond to an orgy joke, and a couple of comedians not having the greatest of banter with the crowd, did not make for a happy buzz floating about the place. It was intense, like sticking a load of people into an elevator and doing a gig there. And if everyone in the elevator also wanted to fight each other for some reason.
There was the comedian as well who pushes his own boundaries to the max while being on stage. As in he is close to snapping, or a melt-down, each time he goes on stage. I think he’s half good though, he commits to full on nut-job at least, plugging away at a joke until the uncomfortable silence from the crowd eventually turns into genuine laughter. I suppose its a cheaper option than paying for therapy. Another comedian did not have any rapport with the crowd. At all. Half the crowd ended up starting a coalition against him, not taking to his banter in the slightest. On the other hand, he did not take well to their criticism either, and was close to getting off the stage and fighting certain members of the audience a few times. All in all, a great atmosphere for a comedy gig.
Thankfully, I was up next. My nonsensical ramblings put the crowd at ease, and managed to appease some of the tension. Almost hit the 15 minute mark, which would’ve have been achieved if I didn’t see the MC flashing his phone at me to wrap it up. Like the blog, quantity, if not always quality, is being reached in the stand-up routine. Also managed to get in a brief Q&A session with the audience before I finished up. Which was nice. My buddy gave me a good roundabout compliment afterwards. Roughly, he reckoned only 5% of the laughs I got were fake ones. A step in the right direction I suppose. All in all though, those 15 minutes were definitely worth a trip up to Dublin. Still not sure if that definitely is a sincere or a sarcastic one. Have to wait and see. I did record it though, so I’ll stick it up here for anyone that might be interested. Something to laugh, or wince at, at least.
The 3 DJ gigs were just superb. Really great. Mainly as I got paid. Wuu, superb. The first on Friday was a bit different than I expected. In fact, if I never have gigs better than Friday, I will be disappointed. I kind of have gotten used to the fact that I can’t play just what I like. Play to the crowd and all that. So, after being briefed on the crowd for gig one, I thought I had a good set of songs lined up. Em, not necessarily. In fact, I had to revert to 80’s all the way (not really the good kind of 80’s either). Singalong and controlled chaos seemed to be the order of the day. Part of my soul was left behind at the venue, but had to be done, I’ll build it back up.
The second gig was in a cool place, Everyman Theatre, I would recommend heading along to it sometime. However, it was a few gems in the crowd here who threw me off. Particularly the girl who insisted on telling me that she split her drink on the dance-floor. I couldn’t figure out if she expected me to clean it up, or buy her a new one. It was odd. Likewise, the girl who told me, numerous times, that she didn’t like the bouncer, was a bit strange as well. Not sure how that was relevant to me. Not that I am calling her dumb, but seeing as she requested a Michael Jackson song, while the actual song she wanted was playing, made me think something was up. Maybe I was just too sober to see her drunken logic. Still though, the more gigs the merrier.
And my final gig, last night, was the best of the lot. Showed up, prepared to the brim after being taken aback the night before, pumped to go! I had even ironed my shirt for the occasion! And, obviously, there ended up being no gig. A mix-up with equipment being delivered, or not, as it turned out, ended up with a lack of necessary tools for me to be able to play. Which was only figured out by myself and the owner when we showed up at the same time, but was by then too late to sort anything else out. Anyways, being paid some money to show up for 10 minutes and then go home, is better than nothing I suppose. All counts towards the L.A fund!
My biggest achievement of the week, might have been finishing the book Zen & The Art of Motor Cycle Maintenance. It only took me 203 days to complete. I know this, as I started it on Christmas Day. An embarrassingly long time to finish a book, but it was worth it in the end. Read on, if you haven’t already, even if it does get bogged down in certain places. Speaking of books, I would recommend The Road Less Traveled. I am having to draw on lessons I learnt from that a lot this week. That is, you have to struggle and persevere through the bleaker times, in order to appreciate the good times more. All part of the cycle! I am in the Dark Ages. Struggle on, the only way is up!
Song of the weekend… I think this video is ridiculously good, similar to my dancing style really!
Last week I started to wonder if I was spreading myself too thin, and not focusing enough on one specific area. Acting, it seems, is on the back burner big time. That’ll come, in my own head at least. This week I have 4 gigs, 3 DJ and 1 stand-up. These take a bit of time to prepare for, so I was wondering if I was taking on too much, trying to do all the re-writes, new stuff, visa issues and all that, at the same time. Plus there was all the usual daily stuff – sleeping, eating, gyming, blogging etc. I was purely making up excuses for myself though. Not only was this going against my L.A mantra of “Many fingers in many pies” kind of thing, but it is mostly just me not utilizing my time as efficiently as I should. Today, is a prime example!
I mentioned yesterday that I have started to give birth to the first proper re-write of the sitcom episode which I am working on. Proper re-write since I got feedback from different sources and asked to make changes. However, even though I said I was pushing hard for the creative spark to ignite, and thought I saw the head coming out, it has become apparent that it might be a long labour. A long, arduous labour. That was my mission today, to start on the first scene, make some sort of progress.
Unfortunately, I made the call to get two minor things on my to-do list out of the way first in the morning. These have been on the list for ages, so finally gave in. First, get my camera fixed. Thanks to the highly competitive Irish prices to fix a minor problem in my camera, it turns out it’ll be cheaper to just buy a new one. Second on the list, was something I do twice a year perhaps. No, not that, I should be so lucky to do it twice in one year. Obviously, it was to get a haircut. On paper, should be grand. An hour tops. However, I can make quite a mountain out of a bird’s nest.
Have you ever been to Las Vegas? Two things stand out the most for me about Vegas. Number 1 is the heat. Unbelievable. Number 2 is the fact that a lot of girls there actually chat you up. It is weird. Until you realize that they are in the same profession as Roxanne. So much so, that you end up suspecting that any girl you talk to will just whip out a price list for their services, within 3 minutes of them approaching you. Great fun. They were the top 2 things I remembered about Vegas. A distant third, was how good the mirrors in the hotel room made you look. It was beyond a joke. After a 10 hour drive, with no sleep the night before, the mirrors somehow conned you into thinking you were looking alright, acceptable at least. Vegas wouldn’t know what hit it! Only when you catch your reflection on a slots machine in the casino downstairs, is it that you get the true picture, of how horrific you are actually looking.
There was a point for that tangent. I am convinced that they use the same mirrors in hairdressers. I never have any notion of how bad my haircut is initially, until I get home. The deceiving lights, the friendly small talk, and the well placed smiles, do not show the full extent of how bad your hair actually looks. I am more at ease going into surgery, than I am at getting a haircut in Ireland. With good reason too. After coming out of the hairdresser today, thinking it had went well, I arrived home to look at this in the mirror…
Not what I was expecting. Well hair wise anyways, I’m used to the facial imperfections. Thankfully, I did something that I haven’t really done before. Seeing as I had so much fun doing it the first time, I went straight back in to get another haircut. What fun! The girl who cut it the first time was sound, and didn’t mind fixing it for me. I wonder if hairdressers would give a refund? Anyways, this time, I noticed a big difference was in the amount of small talk we had. It got chopped. Again, no real clue what it actually looked like in real life, only the Vegas style mirrors to work with. When I got home the second time, this is what was looking back at me in the mirror…
Before you ask, yes, I did lie down like that in front of the mirror when I got home. Could be worse, I’ll take a woman’s haircut over a scarecrow’s one. The whole affair did remind me of what I should always remember before I go to a hairdresser in Ireland… It will grow back, and, bring a hat. As you can see, I managed to waste a good lump of my day, doing something fairly meaningless and pointless. Good to start getting them all out of my system really. Push!