Wow. The last few days. Where to start? I guess I should start with the MURDER in the street!!
It's all a bit strange to be honest. As idiotic as some of my fellow villagers are, killers were not high on the list. Gluesniffers, paedo's, mongs, yeah. Killers, less so. It's all kinda scary too because it all seems to be completely random. Could have happened to anyone. What if me or my wife were walking the dog? Makes you think. Granted, I probably would have disarmed him and put him in a 'million dollar dream' but that's not the point. Seriously though, it makes you wonder.
Yeah, so got home the other night to find the roads closed. Thought nothing of it. The first person I saw when I left the house that following morning for a four pinter of milk over the shop was BBC news reporter Nick Palit. I then saw the BBC news van, and finally I saw the mass posse of cops and their vans. Like a keen detective I knew something was up. A quick jaunt into the post office relayed the jist. Turns out this poor old woman got herself stabbed because she just happened to be standing on the street. My village is just lovely.
Oh, I was actually posting a dvd to Thailand so I has business to attend to in said post office. I wasn't in there for the gossip. The 'Don Williams' film is getting shown in a festival in Thailand and they needed a screening copy. Thailand. Wonder what they'll make of 'Dollhead'.
So my house was on the news. That was strange too. The reporter is talking about a suspect in custody and it shows my house.
It is kinda true what they say on the new about these 'close knit communities' all suffering shock together when things kick off. There defo was an atmosphere in the village. It was quiet. Even the chavy kids that hang around the square were more respectful, for while at least.
That changed when the live news cameras went on. You could just see the lads walking very slowly towards the cameras. My wife called it. We switched on the tv and sure enough there they were in the background. Some with their dogs, others with their cans but all ready with a friendly wave for everyone at home.
Yeah, so that's that. Violent times.
Other stuff... Writing going okay. Managed to get a few more pages out of it. As Mr Cummins alluded to I can see something in this murder thing that I can use in the story. We'll see. Might be a bit forced but also might fit into a character trait I wanted to exploit.
Went to see Richard Herring on Wednesday night too. You remember, from Lee and Herring. Fist Of Fun. No? Remember that fake Rod Hull that liked green jelly? “I AM HIM!!” That’s the show. It was enjoyable enough.
Friday, 27 March 2009
Sunday, 22 March 2009
New writings and stupid do-gooder me.
I've started writing again. Yay. Hopefully I can keep this blog going as some kind of progress report.
So why did I stop writing? More than one reason. The most conveniant excuse is work. I work a stupid amount of hours (58 this week) and don't get an opportunity to write there. I can, and have, written a few notes on plot and characters etc but not actual writing. To be fair though I shouldn't. Anything I write there is a bonus.
Working so much takes it's toll. By the time I get home it's closer to midnight than not and writing anything at that time is just not gonna happen. I usually need a good few days to write anything remotely decent. A day of struggle, a day to get a bit of momentum and a third to get right into it. I haven't had a few days off to myself for a while.
But, like I said, I'm writing again. I have decided to go against all the obstucles and crack on anyway. I'm gonna give up a few hours sleep a night most probably but it'll be worth it. It's already starting to work.
When I don't write I get highly irritable ("...like a crack Hitler" - Faith No More). Luckily I only take my frustrations out on myself. But, now I'm writing I'm a bit happier. When I'm writing I do change. I get quieter, unusually quiet. I zone out, go into my own little world, I'm contantly thinking about the story. I also cluck my tongue. A bit like the mental guy that used to go in Cruci's when I was a kid. Dunno his name but rest assured, he was a mentalist.
The story itself is about relationships in the face of an impending death. The death is secondary. Very character driven and all very 'indie' I suppose. The reason for that is so that it is easier to shoot. The idea is simple enough for me to shoot myself with very limited funded. However, as with most projects, the more money (usually) the better chance the project has of success. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I see the script being about 90 odd pages meaning that it shous equate to about the same in screen minutes. That seems about right for this type of film. I'm not far into it at all. Maybe twenty pages.
Yeah, so this isn't exactly a funny blog. If you want a funny blog check out my good mate Darren Avery's blog. You can get that here... http://www.nerdles.com/author/darren-avery/
Oh, and while it's in my head. I have stopped being nice to strangers. Performing an act of kindness is more trouble than it's worth. Why? What happened? Well it was a Staurday morning. I was on my way to work. I found a phone on the train. Rather than hand it in to the less than trustworthy train staff I decided to do something myself. Of the train I scanned through the contacts. Found a number for home. Dialled it. Spoke to someone there telling them that I've just found a phone of someone who lives there. They say that it belongs to their 12 year old son. Cool. Come down and get it. I'm in work.
Sorted. No. No it wasn't.
Got to work. Having second thoughts about the rightful owner of the phone. Bit too expensive for a 12 year old. Had a look through the phone. The photo's looked as if it belonged to someone older. A teenage girl I reckon. About 19 or so. I reckoned that I watch too much Columbo. Looked through the contact list again and there are numbers there that a 12 year old wouldn't have. I also saw the name of someone I knew. Idea. Phone her up. Ask her who's phone this is. Did that. She sounded confused. Said she'd phone back. Cool.
By this time the guy I phoned earlier is outside wanting the phone. After a twenty minute discussion with one of my work colleagues I refuse to give the phone to him. He is unable to confirm any of the phone numbers on the phone. After a while he seemed to realise that this wasn't his kids phone. Turns out the kid lost it 4 months ago. Yeah, not his phone. As he walked away I fought the Columbo in me to say "Oh, there is just one more thing." No, I allowed the pikey bastard to leave.
I tried texting and calling the last person the rightful owner phoned. No luck. by this time I think the owner had the phone blocked or something. Also by this time I had had enough.
Anyway, this girl that I knew didn't call back and the whole thing was a pain in the ass so on my way home I gave the phone to the train conducter like I should have in the first place. He actually said, quote, "If it's a nice phone I might keep it." I have no doubts mate. That's what started this whole thing. I have a feeling it's not over either. Whatever. It is for me.
Never again.
So why did I stop writing? More than one reason. The most conveniant excuse is work. I work a stupid amount of hours (58 this week) and don't get an opportunity to write there. I can, and have, written a few notes on plot and characters etc but not actual writing. To be fair though I shouldn't. Anything I write there is a bonus.
Working so much takes it's toll. By the time I get home it's closer to midnight than not and writing anything at that time is just not gonna happen. I usually need a good few days to write anything remotely decent. A day of struggle, a day to get a bit of momentum and a third to get right into it. I haven't had a few days off to myself for a while.
But, like I said, I'm writing again. I have decided to go against all the obstucles and crack on anyway. I'm gonna give up a few hours sleep a night most probably but it'll be worth it. It's already starting to work.
When I don't write I get highly irritable ("...like a crack Hitler" - Faith No More). Luckily I only take my frustrations out on myself. But, now I'm writing I'm a bit happier. When I'm writing I do change. I get quieter, unusually quiet. I zone out, go into my own little world, I'm contantly thinking about the story. I also cluck my tongue. A bit like the mental guy that used to go in Cruci's when I was a kid. Dunno his name but rest assured, he was a mentalist.
The story itself is about relationships in the face of an impending death. The death is secondary. Very character driven and all very 'indie' I suppose. The reason for that is so that it is easier to shoot. The idea is simple enough for me to shoot myself with very limited funded. However, as with most projects, the more money (usually) the better chance the project has of success. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I see the script being about 90 odd pages meaning that it shous equate to about the same in screen minutes. That seems about right for this type of film. I'm not far into it at all. Maybe twenty pages.
Yeah, so this isn't exactly a funny blog. If you want a funny blog check out my good mate Darren Avery's blog. You can get that here... http://www.nerdles.com/author/darren-avery/
Oh, and while it's in my head. I have stopped being nice to strangers. Performing an act of kindness is more trouble than it's worth. Why? What happened? Well it was a Staurday morning. I was on my way to work. I found a phone on the train. Rather than hand it in to the less than trustworthy train staff I decided to do something myself. Of the train I scanned through the contacts. Found a number for home. Dialled it. Spoke to someone there telling them that I've just found a phone of someone who lives there. They say that it belongs to their 12 year old son. Cool. Come down and get it. I'm in work.
Sorted. No. No it wasn't.
Got to work. Having second thoughts about the rightful owner of the phone. Bit too expensive for a 12 year old. Had a look through the phone. The photo's looked as if it belonged to someone older. A teenage girl I reckon. About 19 or so. I reckoned that I watch too much Columbo. Looked through the contact list again and there are numbers there that a 12 year old wouldn't have. I also saw the name of someone I knew. Idea. Phone her up. Ask her who's phone this is. Did that. She sounded confused. Said she'd phone back. Cool.
By this time the guy I phoned earlier is outside wanting the phone. After a twenty minute discussion with one of my work colleagues I refuse to give the phone to him. He is unable to confirm any of the phone numbers on the phone. After a while he seemed to realise that this wasn't his kids phone. Turns out the kid lost it 4 months ago. Yeah, not his phone. As he walked away I fought the Columbo in me to say "Oh, there is just one more thing." No, I allowed the pikey bastard to leave.
I tried texting and calling the last person the rightful owner phoned. No luck. by this time I think the owner had the phone blocked or something. Also by this time I had had enough.
Anyway, this girl that I knew didn't call back and the whole thing was a pain in the ass so on my way home I gave the phone to the train conducter like I should have in the first place. He actually said, quote, "If it's a nice phone I might keep it." I have no doubts mate. That's what started this whole thing. I have a feeling it's not over either. Whatever. It is for me.
Never again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
