How Did Stella Get Her Groove Back… ?

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Lisztomania (Alex Metric Remix) – Phoenix

Just got back from DJigging a big charity event. Also known as a D lister party. D-listers. D-lusters. Reality show heads. Famous ex-wives. People in commercials. Rich old men. Young empty women. Desperate older women, out looking for husbands. Empty. Vapid. Fake. Gift bags. Mighty fun! Thank funk I was DJigging. At least I discovered that romance novels are a great ice-breaker. Got home. Done. Dusted. Dancing? Eh. Nay. Kind of has me pondering. How’s my plan going? You know. Every man needs a plan, plan. So. In the past month I have:

  • Boozed
  • Danced
  • DJ’igged
  • Boozed
  • Been a single parent
  • Been a tour guide
  • Been a host
  • Boozed
  • Watched intense Harrison Ford movies
  • Watched brooding Keanu Reeves movies
  • Criticised movies I’ve never even seen
  • Boozed
  • Watched stand-up
  • Watched soccer matches
  • Played soccer matches
  • Enjoyed pool days
  • Lounged about
  • Boozed
  • Read romance novels
  • Read scripts
  • Read books about writing
  • Prepared for writing
  • Boozed
  • Ate
  • Slept
  • Flown around
  • Boozed
  • Did this
  • Did that
  • Paid rent early
  • Almost ended up being on a really big TV show
  • Went on a sunbed

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Enough Talk, More Music!!!

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Bad Music

This weekend, I realized a few things. Main one being, I am spending far too much time realizing all these pointless things. So I will come back to them at a later stage, and plough on with a few songs. A bucket load of music to choose from this week as well… enough talk, more music!!! Continue Reading »

Reality Cheque

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Over the weekend, I realized it was time to take stock. Regather, regroup and all that. For some reason I left myself take a battering mentally last week. I am still not entirely sure why I let myself run around my own head so much. Perhaps it is to do with the fact that I am back in a culture, where what I am trying to do, feels fairly alien. Not saying it is a bad thing. Just that it is far different trying to “live the dream” in Cork, as it is over in L.A. In L.A, every second person I met was in the same boat as myself, trying to climb the ladder in that world and get ahead. Or, they were already successful people in a boat way ahead of mine. Highly competitive and all that, but still good to be around, drives you on more kind of thing.

Back in Ireland, I do feel like I have even less of a clue as to what is going on. Perhaps, this is down to knowing far less people here, who are in a similar line of work, that I am trying to do. Bar speaking to a friend who works for a newspaper, I don’t think I have spoken to one writer, be it for film or t.v. My fault, obviously, I could go hunt them down. However, whereas in L.A, you just meet this people on a daily/weekly basis, and it doesn’t feel forced, in Ireland, for me so far, it does. I am coming at these people with queries and questions, and offering little in return. Which leads to the same type of answer “Shur what do I know really, I’m not much help to you”. Cheers.

Therefore, I have little to no insight as to how I am progressing in my meetings, etc, back here in Ireland. For example, I recently had a meeting with RTE, about the possibility of doing a blog-like segment, for a new show which they are producing. Went well, good feedback, asked for a proposal and so forth (if you clicked, that was who Rita was in previous posts, great disguising by me, ha). Since then though, it has been the waiting game, which is part of the process and all that. I presume. Who knows? At least in L.A, I can bounce these sort of situations off people, and gauge their reaction as to how much progress that actually is, or how good the situation does, or does not, look.

Another door of interest has been shown by a second t.v station, Gina G we’ll just say. The door has been opened at least. So, again, I must put together a proposal, DVD, outline etc, and see how that goes. All taking a chance really and seeing what may come from it. The key for me is realizing that it is a lengthy process. And I am just at the start of it, by getting an initial meeting with these people. However, this is something, which, no matter how many times I try to tell myself, I have still not fully come to terms with. Maybe this is what was giving my head such a frying last week. The not knowing where I really stood, on a number of different fronts, was driving me mental. 

I’ve also been working on sorting out a longer visa for myself. Which is moving in the right direction. There are 2 options, for me at least. One is a D.J sponsorship option, which is a bit expensive, and not sure if my cheque book can afford it at the moment (worked the title in seamlessly, isn’t that lovely). If needs be, it is do-able though. The other option is a writer’s visa. A few things are needed for this one, but costs far less. Far, far, far less. After much (little) deliberation, I am now trying this route first. Which looks hopefull, but, again, I have to play the patience game, and wait for people to get back to me with further info. I have the limbo dance down to a tee at this stage.

In other areas, too, it is kind of the exact same. First one group show interest, then another, meetings go well, then the patience and time factors kick in. Having all of these circumstances, at the exact same time, is tough enough. Having no clue where you really stand, is not as much fun as you might think. I’ve used the metaphor before of it being like when you are trying to hook up with someone you like. Texting, flirting, back and forth, is it going to happen, is it not, who knows, who cares? Imagine that, but way, way, waaaay more. As in way more. As in almost every major aspect of your life is currently in that limbo state. And you do care. Plenty more fish in the sea, but it would be good if one of these gave the green light. Just have to wait and find out. Some funking hoot.

Now, it is time to get proactive. I’ve had the reactive buzz going on all week. And, worst part was, I didn’t get much news to react to. So, just traveled around Ireland, frying my brain. Thankfully I realized it was time to move on from that frame of mind. I shall now be making more use of the time I have in limbo. More on that in the coming week, as this blogaruu has been long enough. 

Mucho gracias to @fiscalstudent by the way, for giving me some good feedback over the weekend, blog related. Highly appreciated it. And also, mucho gracias to the show I just watched on t.v about Graham Linehan, writer/creator of Father Ted, amongst other shows. That hour alone has given me more insight than anything else I’ve managed to get since being back in Ireland. Such as, he does some of the weird things I do as well, while writing. Maybe I’m not losing my mind after seeing his processes and peculiarities. We’re almost alike. Except of course, as I presume you are just saying to yourself, he is married. I am not. Oh, and, perhaps, that he has a few successful shows under his belt. I do not. Yet. Duu.

Song of this long blogaruu day, is also long, but worth listening to all the way through. It is pretty savage.

Phoenix

Love Like A Sunset - Phoenix

Good Hair, Bad Hair Day

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The reason I’m going with the good hair comment is because two random girls, one walking down the street, the other in a cafe, complimented my bird’s nest. I personally think that it was looking no different from yesterday, or as it will tomorrow. Being honest, neither compliment really improved my mood for more than 10 seconds. For some reason, the rest of the day has been weary and dreary. Not really sure why so. The sun was shining, one pretty cool thing did happen today, but I was feeling wrecked from the minute I woke up. Little b***ch mode was on for the day.

It might be something to do with the fact that I felt mugged in certain ways over the weekend. On Saturday, there were cleaners in our house to do a deep clean kind of thing. They seemed sound, I had an hour to kill, so I ended up helping them out, hoovering downstairs and the likes. I did notice yesterday that they did not clean any part of my room, or most of the rest of the house. I am not sure what they did being honest, brought the rubbish out maybe, not enough to warrant getting paid all that money. Presuming they were coming back to finish off, I find out today that they are not, they were just crap and did a runner. Annoying enough.

Last night I was meant to be doing stand-up again. Yesterday I spent the day battling my hangover trying to think up new material for the 3 minute slot. It was on in a supposedly well known comedy club, the iO West Theatre in Hollywood. I had never heard of it either. The manager had emailed me telling me I would be given a slot at some stage, so make sure to come along. When I arrived, I noticed the comedian Andy Dick in the crowd, apparently he was watching out for new talent. I think he is involved with the place. Maybe that the section where it was on being called the Andy Dick Black Box gave me the clue.

iO West Improv Theatre

So, I was pumped to get on stage and try to impress him, could lead to the big break, sitcom, movies etc. Obviously, ha. Plus my buddy came along with a friend, I would know people in the audience, added pressure. Then I get informed that the 3 minute slot was actually more like a 5 minute one. Only 2 minutes extra I know, but still, a long time on stage. The song “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew randomly started to play over in my head, and weirdly settled my nerves. I had thought up of a load of crap jokes earlier in the day, at least I think I thought them up, couldn’t decide if I maybe just heard them years ago or not. If worst came to worst, I’d pull a few of them out.

However, I had no need to think of any of this. Seeing as the b*****d didn’t call me out to go up on stage. Supposedly, you wrote your name on a slip of paper, the host then pulled them out randomly up on stage to see the order, and everyone gets a go. Nope. All his buddies got hooked up. I am no buddy of his though it seems. Maybe because I didn’t laugh at his horrific jokes when he did a bit before the night got under way. I am no expert, but you would be surprised at how crap some of the stand-up comedians are in Hollywood. I know its only open mic and no-one is getting paid for it, but some of them are absolutely horrific. To top it all off, they are highly delusion, not realizing the sound they seemed to think was laughter was actually silence. 

Sitting there from 10, until 12, gradually realizing that the names were not, in fact, being called out randomly, was highly frustrating, especially when some of them were so, so, so bad. At least I can cop on to when I tell a bad joke, that is most of the angle I was going to use, but these people don’t let it go. There was actually an Irish woman who got to go up about halfway through. Jesus, she was brutal, ruined any hope I would have had at playing the Irish card, just kept shouting at herself. Leaving there with my buddy and his friend, after having not going up, was a great buzz, chump and an ape all rolled into one.

All of the above, plus the let down of the fight on Saturday night, I think contributed to me feeling weary and beaten today. Although, I should’ve been upbeat. I had a meeting with a committee member of BAFTA, to see if I could impress and get accepted into a newcomer’s program which they have. The meeting was arranged in Urth Cafe on Melrose, which is right next to the BAFTA office. When I arrived there, I immediately recognized the place. It is always shown on the likes of Entourage, photos of L.A, all that jazz.

Urth Cafe

People must just sit here and wait for celebrities. Going in you can feel eyes on you, until you take off your sunglasses and people see that, no, you are not someone they recognize, how you’ve let them all down, it is ridiculous! Speaking of which, I think Lenny Kravitz was at the table next to me today, but he never took of his sunglasses so I wasn’t 100% sure, ha, 99% say.

This is where I got a hair compliment, unusual seeing as usually it is a hair complaint. I was looking sharp for the meeting, as in the sense it was a rare day I wore a shirt, 3 times a year roughly, so the shirt, and not me, was looking sharp. The compliment was given as I ordered a coffee. That was until I actually took off my sunglasses, which is when the girl didn’t recognize my beautiful eyes and walked away. I might as well have taken off my shirt and revealed a set of man boobs for the look of disappointment on her face. I am sure that she sincerely meant the compliment though. Sure.

Anyways, ordered a coffee, waiting for a Larry David lookalike to show up (the man from BAFTA’s own description), and tried to figure out if it was Lenny Kravitz next to me without staring, ha. An uncanny Larry David lookalike walks up the steps, recognizes me from the photo I sent in and makes his way over. I stand up, knock the table with my knee, spilling my coffee down my shorts, people turn to look at the commotion, Lenny doesn’t, coffee is hot enough on my thighs, great funking first impression. Seriously, what an ape.

Luckily, the man I meet with was born in Cork too, and we get on great. The meeting goes well, I spread out my 3 minutes of doing something good in one day to last the meeting, and as he leaves he tells me that he will be giving me a glowing recommendation to the board. Happy days, wuu.

As I walk home, I start to think today isn’t too bad after all. I am going to be recommended to the BAFTA committee board for membership, how could this not be a good day?! I mean, this now means that…ehh. This will mean that I now can, emm. What does this mean? Turns out, I have no clue what this actually means. I still can’t figure it out. I am presuming it is a good thing, I just have to find out why and what the benefits will be. However, lets not forget, all my presumptions so far, have usually turned out to be horrendously wrong. Great day.

Song of the bad hair day… Lisztomania by Phoenix