Tag Archives: Writing

Poker With Slash? Jazz With Prince? I’ll Pass

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My first few days back in L.A have been rocky to say the least. I was getting body blows from all angles. Firstly, I had to pay rent, blow to the stomach. Secondly, I now had to pay for the gym, that bastard, blow to the kidneys. All of this and still no job on the horizon. I was then told by someone in the know to check out if I could even act or audition here while not having a long term visa, cheap blow to the mid-section.

Finally, I was hit with some really hard news to take. While I was gone, I missed out on a big game of poker in Robbie Williams’ house, which was fine, until I was told Slash was playing! Slash, how many times would I get a chance to play poker with a Guns & Roses dude?! Upper cut to the chin, I was reeling and only back a day or two!!! I’ll ignore the fact that they were probably not all playing for the usual $10 a man pot I play, so not sure if my budget would’ve allowed me to take up the offer anyways. I’ll ignore that though.

I decided I would sleep the body blows off, it’ll all be rosy in the morning. However, it was then that I realized I need new sheets and pillows, the ones I had been using were no longer there. Using my great improvisation skills, I used a slightly wet hand towel as my pillow the first night, and my very damp bath towel as my sheet, almost covering me down to my waist, I was sorted! Although sheets and pillows were luxury items on my new budget, after that great sleep, I felt they would be a good investment. It was only when I got to the shop, saw the prices, and checked my budget, that the FEAR showed up and started to win the fight. I could afford one pillow, and a sheet. Maybe I’ll try to rob a homeless guy’s blanket on the way home.

Second night back in L.A, depleted of money (I bought food as well – a loaf of bread, 2 eggs, 1 can of tuna, a banana, handful of nuts, and a yoghurt, hopefully all of that will last me a week or two) and fighting the FEAR, I decided I would start being smarter with my money, start to economize, focus on what I could afford and needed. So, when my roommates asked me to join them in going to a jazz night at a club, I played my smart card, and declined. I was looking forward to trying out my new sheet and pillow anyways.

Woke up the next day, and I am informed I missed a great night, jazz was really good, place was cool, do I know Prince? Not personally, but yes, why so? Oh, he was there as well, jazzing it up. I prefer Michael Jackson anyways. For some reason, it was at this point when I decided to give up worrying. Funk the FEAR, I will beat you off (not in the West Hollywood way, but you know what I mean). I had missed out on poker with Slash, and now a night of jazz with Prince. I was resisting L.A, trying to be smart, use my head, think things through, economize, plan ahead. Thats not what L.A was about for me, I had to get back to basics, back to being dumb and going with the flow, stick to what you know!!!

Rent was paid for the month, I had bought time at least. I was in hobo heaven, a poor man’s paradise! So what if E.T was calling me to go home, I must plough on! Acting might not be the immediate route, but writing is free to do wherever. Looks like its back to getting free acting classes too, I could still do it! Who cares if the sheets I bought are actually meant for a single bed and my bed is a king size, so what if they don’t fit, it all be alright! The minute I stopped worrying about the funds, if I was goosed, how could I afford the acting classes, should I buy new sheets, etc., bits and pieces started to fall my way. Kind of.

While in the gym, after talking about music to the gay dude and how crap it is in the gym at times, there is now a chance I could get a job there as D.J during the day, ha, funking hilarious. I have to drop a demo in tomorrow. I also have a meeting with a guy about potentially running a night or DJ’ing in his bar/restaurant. I need to brush up on my mixing skills fairly lively. There is also now another possibility of selling Shamwows on the weekends, my career options are on the up!

More good news today. My roommate told me, if it ever came to it, I could act away as well without a visa, start off in non-union stuff, I should put up a resume on L.A Casting to get the ball rolling. Wuu huu, my acting career was rising up from the flames, Phoenix style! Seems I just have to remember to try not to be too smart and over-think things. I should have no problem with that so. L.A seems to have made me dumber anyways, or else I just get into more dumb scenarios when I go with the flow, or it could be a combination of all three. Wahey!

Song of this glorious, sunny day is I Feel It All by Feist, pump it up!!!

Did I Do You Yet?

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Out of all the gyms, in all of gay San Francisco, I pick a gym owned by a straight guy, so I now have to pay, like a chump, it’s awful carry on. This gym, however, posed a very important question for me to mull over today – What is gayer: the couple (guy and girl) who both times I have been there have worn identical matching outfits (different matching outfits too, first day mostly made up of blue, I thought it was a strange coincidence, today mostly black and white, confirmed my ape suspicions), who wont stop walking around the gym with their arms around each other’s lower back so they’re waddling in sync, OR; the gay couples in the gym in West Hollywood. Both are pretty, pretty gay. OR, me, seeing as I probably trump them both for noticing and taking the time to write about it. Plus the fact I’ve used OR twice so far and keep saying it out loud as I do. I win.

Moving on, while I am on my week or so away from L.A, I have been given writing assignments to do, to assess and reflect on the time I have been there so far. Different writing and organisation exercises to see if I am serious about writing, can I work in a time frame, how has the acting side of things gone for me, or I am just in L.A to party. I have worked hard all day, procrastinating, thinking about which one I should do first. As of yet, I am still undecided, so I’ll hold off until tomorrow to start. I think I will plough ahead with the one I must write about what I have done so far while in L.A to achieve my goals, and what then is it that I need to do when I go back.

First thing I did to perfection in L.A, was to finely hone the art of procrastination whilst on Craigslist, thinking I was being productive. Craigslist is one of the most helpful, frustrating, useful, annoying, time saving and time consuming websites there is out there. It is a complete paradox. I have had many hits, and double the misses from the website. The good: I found a place to live with cool roommates; the website indirectly got me playing soccer in Robbie Williams’ house. The bad: got me excited about a job that never seemed to really exist (hired at about 3 in the afternoon, company disappeared off the radar about 11 that night); had me walk around the city of L.A to open interview jobs where hundreds of others would also show up before me (might have been handy if I brought a C.V along with me to those interviews, although making out a C.V for myself might be a good starting point too); the whole Bucket fiasco (go read the plentiful posts on that if you need a reminder, I miss her still). I’m sure there have been many more misses, they are just the main ones off the top of my head. I won’t even mention what happens if you try to get free Sigur Ros tickets from someone off the website, lets just say nothing is free in this day and age!

Anyways, for the first few weeks in L.A, I was convincing myself that looking for a job and car on Craigslist, or posting ads offering soccer coaching, website design, accent coaching, translation, pornogr…photography lessons etc, was a way of me being productive. Nay, nay, nay. Complete waste of time, although at least it got me out of the house!

On the acting side, I have probably not done enough, but I have made some sort of progress. I am still agent-less, and my phone has yet to start hopping with calls about auditions. No SAG card or head shots either come to think of it. However, at least now, when an acting teacher asks me “Have you studied Method, or Meisner, or theatre, or E-Business, or whatever before?”, I no longer reply sheepishly “Eh, yeah?”, but instead confidently reply, with a wink, “All of the above really”. Progress has been made! 

My ramblings are being put on paper, so to speak, so at least the writing is flowing. I have Craigslist to thank for a good bit of that, so that is another hit really. And now that I have been given assignments, and even asked to do an article, big time Charlie, hopefully more structure will come to it. Sitcom on!!!

All my galavanting on nights out has led me to make a few contacts, which is a plus. They might not remember me too well, or my many names, but I’m sure they will be delighted to learn that I have put them on my speed dial. Lucky them. Plus I now know who to call if ever I want to get scammed into buying a broken down truck, always handy. It’s all about who you know really, ha.

So, from the gibberish above, I see that I have done a few things ok, to an extent, and the rest, eh…yeah. I haven’t even made out this list or post well, the random ramblings are kicking in. Ok, focus, what’s the first thing on my to do list when I get back to L.A… what to do… to do… to duu… I thought of something! Here’s hoping my hot neighbour wants to do it too!

Here’s a great song to pound the streets of L.A to while on the job hunt, although it has yet to bring me luck in finding a job…Punkrocker by the Teddybears ft Iggy Pop.

Any Spare Change, Boss?

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Today has been a day of chats, stories and getting information, some meaningless, the rest highly useful. 

Here’s a highly useful bit of information I got today, which will definitely benefit me further down the line. Apparently Matt Damon lived in the same place I live now. Very useful to know. At least now if I ever meet him I have a good ice breaker. A great story.

This nugget of information was followed by a mighty chat today with one of my neighbors. Mighty altogether, I was smoothness personified. One of my neighbors is ridiculously hot, an Australian actress. I found out today she was in Neighbors. I could try to make up a horrific joke about my neighbor being in Neighbors but I’m too tired, and thats all I could think of anyways. She’s the reason David Spade has been hanging around my place now and again, they’re working together. She’s not that famous or anything, but she promised she wouldn’t mention me in her blog if I did the same, you know how it goes. The bad news was that one of my roommates told me she lives here with her husband. Great. I was well in there too before I found this out. I felt the spark the one time I said hi to her, although I’m not sure if she even said hi back. 

So while I’m watching t.v, I see her outside my window, messing around with her dog or something. The sun was shining, she was dazzling in it, looking savage. As I said to my other roommate, knowing she wouldn’t get it, she is a weapon. Strangely at that exact time, more or less, I thought to myself, now is a good time to dump the bins, and while I’m outside, I might as well say hello. So I throw an empty can into an empty bin-bag, the rubbish was overflowing, really important I dumped it at that time, and go outside. I should mention at this point that my roommate’s dog was sick today, so puking out of both ends. This will help my smoothness later on. 

I head out, make some small talk with her about it being a great day, dazzling, weapons, all that jazz. I then tell her how I have to empty the bins again, so much rubbish, where does it keep coming from, you know how it is, throw my eyes to heaven, tut to myself, all that jazz. She doesn’t care, and I realize I shouldn’t literally talk rubbish to her, my regular small talk is bad enough. So I go dump the can into the trash shute, come back, ask her what type of dog does she have. It’s a bulldog but I ask anyways. I’m good at small talk. I then think to myself, I should really tell her how my roommate’s dog is sick out both ends, and how I’ve stepped in it a few times already today, tut, throw my eyes to heaven. So I’ve now moved on to the subject of s**t with her. Rubbish and s**t, same old small talk as usual so. 

Our spark is interrupted by her husband popping his head out their window and asking her would she get his drying from downstairs. Hang on buddy, we’re sharing a moment over dog s**t. So I go back inside, tell my roommate its a pity she’s married, I think she likes me. I know these vibes well. My roommate, who has lived here longer than my other roommate, then tells me she’s not married, that’s a gay guy who lives in the same house. The other roommate had got it wrong! No wonder so David Spade was over there all the time, trying to move in on my woman. I’m thinking of inviting her over to check out the dog’s puke stains, always a banker to seal the deal.

So they were two highly useful, informative stories I heard and had earlier in the day. I also heard how Brad Pitt got the agent, who got him his big break, to represent him in the first place. My roommate had all the good stories for me today! Apparently, he went to her office with his resume, photos, reel etc. She said no thanks. So he kept showing up every day at her office, with cakes, flowers, mixed tapes, homemade stuff, being nice and pleasant, and eventually, she said yes. Talent, good looks and the ability to bake tasty cakes and deserts seems to be the way to get your foot in the door. I’m letting the custard on my trifle set as we speak.

On my way to a meeting I had today, I stopped by the good old Coffee Bean for a coffee, surprisingly enough. Its a sit wherever, share tables, kind of place when its busy. So I’m busy scribbling stuff down in my notebook about something, a shopping list I think, when a girl asks if she can sit at my table. Work away, pull up a chair. I thought she was Irish first, had all the tell tale signs, pinky skin complexion, colour of bacon, iPod on, green top and a white skirt. The minute she asked me what do you do and who are you, however, I knew she wasn’t. Here we go again. Luckily, I pulled a George Kastanza moment out of the bag, that will be used in future when needed…”I’m unemployed and kind of homeless, things are looking bad.” A great way to nip something in the bud early in LA it seems. Plus I called over Amadeus and introduced him to her, she probably believed the homeless comment more after seeing he was my buddy.

I then met a literary agent, who had read some of my writing. That turned out to be the most useful out of all my chats, as he gave me unreal helpful information about LA, getting into the business, and taking things to the next level. Basically you need a plan. Then you need ten more plans. Then you have to be open to ten more possible plans. So the more you put yourself out there, try different routes, network, and work hard while making it look effortless, the bigger chance you have of getting a foot or hook in somewhere. I know that can be applied for a lot of things, and might seem obvious, but when you’re being told by someone in the business you want to be in, by someone who knows what they’re talking about, and thinks you have a good chance if the necessary hard work is done, its good stuff to hear and have laid out in front of you. Its a bit much to take in all in one go too, so by the end I was processing it through my head and was a bit lost for words as to what responses I should give “Eh, thanks?”. Stand-up comedy could be another option now too, boo on!!! At least now though, more direction has been given to me, it no longer feels completely alien being here, and I have set things to start doing. Either that or I’m banking on my homemade trifle!

A great song to finish the day is Road To Joy by Bright Eyes

Who Are You? And What Do You Do???!!!

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Friday and Saturday have been pretty chilled compared to the last few weekends. Strangely enough, on Friday I was surprised to find out I was better off ditching the Mongolians in the end the night before. And here is why.

I finally made the wise decision to look for someone to take over my rent for the end of March, and I’ll look for somewhere cheaper. The pennies are being pinched big time. So, I put an ad up on Craigslist to sublet my room. That is how I met the Swedish girl. We go back years. She had arrived in LA last week, we’d chatted on Facebook, she was coming over on Friday to check the place out. I spent the morning dusting my room with a pair of boxers(couldn’t find a cloth) and hoovering my bedroom with my foot(couldn’t work the hoover). 

So about 2 o’clock she calls over with her two friends. She is sound out, hot enough too, and seems cool. Her friends, on the other hand, are complete apes. Sweet lord, they were apes. The first one swans in the door snapping her fingers, fake lips, fake boobs, fake hair, tiny dress and massive heels. Sounds lovely I know but the receding hairline she was trying to hide wasn’t really my thing. Her first question, her first words out of her mouth to me were “What do you do? Why are you not at work now? Are you rich?”. I’m waiting for the hi, how’s it going, nice hairline, small talk but she skips all that. Ape. She doesn’t seem impressed when I tell her I work online (all I could think of). I ask her what she does…”I make men fall in love with me and buy me what I want”, snapping her fingers at me and waiting for me to laugh along with her. Oh right, you’re a whure, no need for the long explanation next time. The other friend asks then if I have a green card, am I a U.S citizen. I disappoint her with a no, why so? “Oh I’m looking for a husband, but he has to be American, you wont do”. I tell her I’m looking for a wife too but she has to be half Swedish, half Mongolian. She doesn’t get it. It’s hilarious in my head though, so I start to explain but just stop myself in time. Not another explanation joke.

So my roommate and I sit through a good hour of hearing how her friend’s place is much nicer, more expensive, another man fell in love with her last night, she might move to a nicer place, … please stop talking. Thank god I didn’t head to their party the night before. They would have maxed out the last €24 on my student credit card in no time. I dodged a bullet. Finally they leave, we’ll call you, last resort my roommate says. It was nice of the girl to leave a few strands of her fake hair behind as well though as a kind remainder. Ill use them to dust the next time around.

Unfortunately at this stage I think I’ll have to give up mocking myself about my solo clubbing episodes. Friday night the texts were flying in, five offers, from five separate people, I was a popular man. In the end, I opted for a place called Teddys with my roommate. I had texted the Bucket asking her to go see a movie but I think she’s changed her number. I’ll ring from a private number tomorrow to check for definite. Anyways, Teddys was a great call. Cool as funk. Its in the Roosevelt hotel on the Hollywood strip, so right in the middle of everything. Supposedly a great spot if you want to mingle with the celebs. Or mingle with me now. Whichever you prefer.

So we get in, my roommate and her friends go say their hellos, I head off on a little wander of my own. Order a drink, doesn’t max out the student card, not too expensive so (about $10). Its a small enough place, decorated vintage style, seems to be a VIP section of the hotel bar. So, I’m strolling around, trying to look cool and fit in, keeping an eye out for Ricky Bobby or Shwayze, no sign, when these two girls come up to me. I’m surprised they didn’t pass out from the posing and the cheek sucking they were doing while trying to talk. Their shoulders keep popping into me as well while they pose and ask me “Who are you?”. Again, I was waiting for the hi, how are you, you just posed your shoulder into my eye, small talk, but they skip that too. So I tell them, very slowly and loudly, MARK, M A A A R R R K, MARK. They look at me like I’m a bit slow, they understood the first one fine. “Mark what?” At this stage they seem to have gathered I have an accent of some sort, which makes them think I might be rich and maybe famous. Little do they know.

So, they ask again, “Mark, what?”. I give them my surname, and see one of them type something into their iPhone. I think nothing of it while I have small talk with the other girl…I’m from Ireland – Oh my god I’m Irish too – Sure you are – I am, I’m half Irish – Oh yeah, which half, top or bottom – Emmm, my Mum is Russian and I’m told I look like her so, bottom half? – Yeah, thats what I thought too.  The other girl turns back to me, “I cant find you on Google, what did you say your name was again? What do you do? Are you an artist?” I look at her iPhone and she has typed in “Markus” into Google search. Ape. I tell them I am an artist, I do love to paint, I’ll paint them if they like.  I don’t want to disappoint her by telling her my surname again so she can see there’ll be no Imdb.com result for it. I wouldn’t want to ruin her night this early or anything. So, I whip out the back in two minutes dodge line. Be right back, wait here for me. They see they’re losing me and finally ask what they really wanted..Do you have drink for us? I point to a bottle of vodka on the table next to me (obviously not mine), tell them work away. Do you have some…sniffs at me. I hand her a tissue.

As it turns out, it was lucky I brought my Kleenex handy pack as I was asked for tissues a lot in that club for some reason. As in everyone I spoke to more or less finished by asking me or offering me. If you are ever in LA though, I would highly recommend going there. Its a cool place, so cool in fact, that they don’t care about the no smoking rule in there and everyone puffs away. Now that’s cool. Plus the Irish accent is golden, best place yet. Just bring tissues.

Today has been chilled enough but good trickles of progress have occurred. I checked the blog stats after the big interview on the radio show, the daily individual blog hits have quadrupled, almost up to 500, wuu duu!!! I also have a meeting lined up with my roommate’s commercial agent for this Monday. Meant to be easy money if you can get it, and they need all sorts, so worth a punt(if it goes through this time). Plus, there is some interest in my writing from other sources now (not just people I’ve plagued to read it) after the blog got more exposure. It’s going nude next week.

This made me realize something today, which now I see is fairly obvious but a bit oblivious to me up until now. And that is that I must start small. Any little break at all. Better than nothing. I can’t just land my own sitcom, or get a role in a movie (starring role that is) that I’d love to star in and like to watch myself kind of crap. Small things lead to the bigger things. Aaron Speiser was actually saying this a lot the last time I went but must not have sunk in properly until now. I was too busy wondering what the Wayans had said to him next when he worked with them. Later down the road you can pick and choose more to an extent. The more I write it down the more blatantly obvious it is. I was only joking, I had figured that out all along. Sure. Until then though I  have to take what I can get, to an extent. I’m still not going to say yes to the porn offers that have come in.

I must do some research now instead of rambling on. Must check out Google and see if that girl who gave me her number last night was on that t.v show I think she was on. As if I’d be interested in her if she wasn’t. As if. Tut. Song of the day is a song always on when I blogaruu…Inní mér syngur vitleysingur by Sigur Ros, funreal.

Right On!!!

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The whole point of me coming to LA was to pursue acting and writing. However, mundane stuff like sorting out a visa, finding a job, finding somewhere to live, buying a bucket and other daily occurrences make it hard to solely concentrate on these two things.

For example, today has been spent going to the DMV to try and register the bucket. The dirty waddling b*****d who sold it to me gave me his solemn word, swore on his mother’s grave in fact, that it would cost me a maximum of $40 to register the truck. MAXIMUM, tops, at the very most 40 dollars to transfer it to my name, was what he said. So seeing as its a nice day, and the fact its daytime and the Bucket is a night owl, I decide to walk, just in case. Google Maps informs me its a 26 minute walk away, give or take a minute. About 20 minutes into the walk I realize that I forgot my wallet in my house, good work by me. I decide to plough on, Ill at least find out what I need to do to register it and get an estimate for the price.

I get there at about 4.58 and it closes at 5. There are still about 50 people here. So, I get my ticket number 591, and wait, seeing 541 being served next. It was a good estimate by me. So wait and wait, finally get to the desk with my pink slip, ask the lady if she could check how much I have to pay to register it. She checks the computer and tells me eight sixty seven. For one dumb stupid moment I think, Jesus, that’s brilliant, only 8 dollars and 67 cent, thats unreal. This look must have beamed across my face as she then says “Thats 8 hundred and 67 dollars, not 8 dollars…”. Apparently the truck had not been registered since 2003 so it owed penalties. The dirty lying waddling b*****d. Walking home I’m not too pissed off, gut feeling was something was up with the whole affair, only 400 dollars but still, the fact of getting mugged was the worst part. I haven’t felt mugged like that since my buddy sold me a guitar for €100 and it was worth half of that max. And it broke a string first time I strummed it.

Then a song comes on my iPod, Atlas by Battles.
This is some song to pump you up before going out at night or clubbing. Not so good when you realize you have just been done even more than you thought. So Im power walking home, swinging the arms, song blaring, Ill get that b*****d somehow, it takes me about 14 minutes home, Google Maps should have considered the circumstances! I then remember his number was in the ad for the truck. Go home, borrow my roommate’s phone, ring the prick. It rings twice and is followed by the delightful message “Sorry, this number is no longer in service”. It even repeated it in Spanish for me to rub it in. Surely I dialed the wrong number, try again, the dirty waddling b*****d. After that I’ve more or less given up on him. I might ask about his status when I call out to the golf club about caddying but as it stands I have 4 ads on Craigslist to sell it and a week or two grace to drive around in it.

So these annoying little everyday occurrences distract highly from the acting and writing. In fairness I had no acting classes scheduled for today so not too bad. I was, however, planning on writing but it never happened. Life got in the way.

My whole approach to writing was this. I watched a load of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Loved them. Started to write down everyday stories that happened to me and around me and wove them together to come out with about eight episodes of my own for a sitcom I wrote. So sent them in to RTE, got a bit of good feedback, bluffed my way through a few stages, but at the end of the day I was someone with no experience and was applying to write and produce(and star)in my own sitcom. At least thats what I told myself was why they didnt take it further, obviously nothing to do with the quality, obviously, ha. TG4 and BBC both gave good feedback but ended in the same result. I didn’t really have any gauge to use for standard of writing as I have had never done it before and wasn’t really in that environment spending 5 or 6 years in college.

So, I decided the best place to go was LA to learn the business. Luckily enough for me, a writer lives in the place directly across from me. Im not fully sure what he’s written but my roommates told me a few feature films and working on a reality show now thats being developed. So, he called in earlier and told me ways to try and break into the writing business.

Firstly he told me keep the sitcom episodes, they could be the stuff to get the big break in a few years. The key is to get in the door as a writer’s assistant. There you can sit around the writer’s table, then after a while start throwing out your own ideas, if they’re liked you get bumped up and pretty soon you’re a writer on the Office(it was on t.v at the time). He told me he knows of plenty of writers who broke in this way, some even ended up playing parts on the shows. The way in, one of them anyways, is to write an episode for an existing show. So, he took the Office as an example, as I was watching it, and said try to write an episode for that. I’ve been given a script for the Office before and it was brilliant, so well written. It’ll make you laugh out loud just reading it. And the reason its so good is that you can visualize the characters in your head already, as opposed to someone reading a script from a complete unknown with characters they’ve never seen on screen trying to imagine anything. I presume if you give them a work of brilliance its a different story but until that happens, writing an episode of the Office or some other show seems the best way in. Good to know at least.

Thats the easy part over with, finding out what to do. Now all I need is an episode to pop into my head. I just have to get that dirty waddling b*****d out of there first.

Song of the day, which came on my iPod after Battles, was The World At Large by Modest Mouse, good to chill you out, era shur didn’t we have a great lunch together on Saturday after all, ha.

After watching that video I just saw Things I Don’t Remember by Ugly Casanova, pretty class.