A product of my illness, was a strange, feverish temperature. Ranging from very hot to very cold. It’s calmed a bit now, but I’ve still (in the words of the almighty Withnail) got quite the bastard behind the eyes.

During my feverish state – I slept; albeit sporadically. In short forty minute bursts, I found myself entering dreams of places and people both past and present. Bizarre. And they were lucid. Total control. My first lucid experience to my memory. And it was both joyous and frightening. I found myself giggling mostly. Talking to my friends, family, my ex-girlfriend. Everything had a tint. A haze. All was well. My Grandfather who is suffering from Alzheimer’s at the moment, was tip-top; speaking very fluently about his days in the circus and as a renowned ‘Horsieman’ in Ireland. Any animosity between my ex-girlfriend and I was forgotten, and we reminisced with ease. I even had a moment where for some mad reason – where I and both my good friend Kieran and his friend Ryan (who, I’m acquainted with, but haven’t spent more than perhaps 24 hours in total with the man) shared what can only be described as a wrestling match with a ‘floozie’. Nothing untoward mind you; this was a PG dream.

Yes, so following our little romp with said floozie, Ryan and I had a lengthy discussion about the philosophies of How I Met Your Mother, before meeting Barney Stinson and suiting up. Whilst mine, Barney’s and Ryan’s suits were respectably dapper – Kieran’s was, for the much part, Orange.

At this point, I awoke at 7:45am and had to inform work that I’d be unable to leave the house for both weakness, tiredness and continuing barfing. I had only one dream after that, and whilst it did not seem lucid – I did witness George Harrison jumping onto the roof of my car, whilst chasing what appeared to be a mouse.

And no, before you ask; I did not leave the gas on. Nor did I smoke any narcotics.

Oddly odd.

TTFN,

x

No shit, Sherlock. Ten years, are ten years. Of course a lot is going to happen. The question is, once you fizz through all of the meaningless shite which passes for ‘news’ and ‘occurrence’ in contemporary society – what exactly are you left with?

Well, historic events for one. What galls me, is that for some mind-buggering reason – such atrocities as (unfortunately, the following is NOT what you would expect to follow the word atrocity) Jade Goody’s death, the rise and fall of Katie Price and Peter Andre, the revival of Take That, the cancellation of Top of the Pops and even as far as Who shot Phil Mitchell?; just sadly, don’t cut it for this writer of sorts.

Granted, for some – these may seem monumental. But come on people. I hate to preach to the converted, because more than likely (and let’s be honest) if you’re scrolling through the blogosphere, at least two things are guaranteed. One being, you’re not pandering through some glossy mag, and the second being that you’re not currently glued to the soaps. Lots has happened, and lots will continue to happen. The noughties brought about a lot of conflict and many freak environmental disasters. The world as we know it, is ever increasingly changing and we’re blind to it. Blind to it because of the trash, filth and utter bollocks which passes for newsworthy in this age.

I ask you brothers and sisters, to stand up and convert all idiocy into awareness. All depravity, into desire to at least want to notice the changes in both our social and environmental world. Drop the glossys, switch off Corrie and fucking take note. Things are happening. You’re missing it.

Now, maybe I’m being ridiculous. Maybe it’s Warren Zevon playing in my ears, or maybe it’s the beer talking – but didn’t we seem to just tune out in the noughties?

It’s time to tune  back in again.

It’s been a very rough year, for a lot of us. I can only hope that by awakening ourselves, we’ll be better suited to dealing with the year to come.

My love to you all, and wishes of best – in what I hope will be a year where we start to take notice.

TTFN&AHNY,

x

Much of an antithesis to mosts’ resolutions, I’m pretty certain that I need to elevate the amount of alcohol which I’m indulging in. Then there’s rape. The raping of the social scene in Glasgow that is. I need to get my ass out of my house and start to partake in certain life-worthy experiences. I’m not talking about mass groupings and parties of idiocy. Merely, some form of social exchange in order to vent and build upon noteworthy experiences.

It would also do me good to manage my money a little better. I know, I know. That ones an old bore, isn’t it?

Regardless – I’ve decided that if I’m to encounter said noteworthy experiences, I’m only going to do so through way of fancy, frolics and possibly travel.

When you’re putting your glasses down after the New Year, throwing away your smokes, throwing two fingers to the breeze and saying ‘never again’; think of me. Tippling on some fine wine, talking ears offa’ peoples and being a tight, (financially) miserable old bastard.

Jealous?

No, I didn’t think so.

TTFN&AHNY.

x

A lot has happened for both good and bad, best and worse and you know something? I’m pretty damn fucking good.

I believe I’ve a new found thirst for life and want to do something about said phenomenon. After a long period of numbness and bleak depravation of a healthy lifestyle – I’ve found myself bloom. No more am I relying on the ever wonderful sushi bar for food, no longer am I drumming away at my notepad with nothing to say and no longer am I loosing sleep over… well, nothing.

No. These past weeks, I’ve begun to take care of myself. I’ve begun to live a little again. I’m writing. Fuck yes, I am writing and you know something? Without wanting to blow my own trumpet – it’s not shite.

No, not at all. It’s actually pretty fucking good. Right this moment, I’m writing a scene for the advanced Practical Aesthetics class in Glasgow. Working with screen/playwrights Ann Marie Di Mambro and Chris Dolan; I’m developing a scene based on a short improvisation witnessed in a workshop just a couple of weeks ago.

Both screen/playwrights have deep roots in both television and theatre – but the ever lovely Di Mambro is the course director on the Masters course that I am eagerly waiting on beginning, assuming I get the very competitive scholarship. So far, it’s been an odd, but very nice experience working so closely with someone who will in fact determine not only the next year of my life – but quite possibly the outline of my future career. I’m smart enough to know that the writing industry and television/film industry in general is best infiltrated by mass networking and practice. Practice in the practical sense of practicing your talent and demonstrating such as that. So, my career has begun. I have networked and am still very much in the process of doing so.

I tend to get very overwhelmed when I’m placed in such social situations. Those being, situations involving persons whom I hold in very high regard both professionally and domestically. Thus, it’s hardly a surprise that I possibly ridiculed myself due to jitters and nerves when I formally met Ann Marie and Chris whilst they were having a cigarette outside the studio. After introducing myself, I got very nervous and very silly. In the alleyway, outside the studio – I proceeded from ‘Hello there, How are you?’ to ‘Would you like a cup of tea? We have earl grey, lapsang souchong, ceylon or green – fancy a cup?’.

These aren’t the words of a sane man. Not in a dank, murky alleyway; miles from the nearest kettle at least. Rather, more so the words of a lumbering fool. ie. Me.

So, after a very puzzled glance from Chris and a more understanding, tolerant smile from Ann Marie – we went upstairs and had some tea. And beyond that initial bought of ridiculous blurts on my behalf – it was very nice. I felt like I was a proper writer. I am a proper writer. It’s fun being a writer. We write things. Like this: ‘Hello’.

Moving on – I was very pleased to have been invited to a Christmas shindig at Ann Marie’s Westend Home, where upon arrival, I found myself plonked down onto a very lovely, comfortable sofa with two BBC executives to my right and Ann Marie to my left. Oh, and not to mention her Westie, Scully laying up on my knee (Good judge of character).

A very spontaneous and bizarre evening – but it was one that I’ll very much (without getting too sentimental) hold dear in my mind for years to come.

Something clicked that night. Something told me that all of the stress, anxiety, pain, boredom and sheer fucking monotony of the past four months had FINALLY amounted to something. Right before my eyes, I could see progress.

And I’m open. Ready for spontaneity. Ready for a challenge. Ready to write my little heart out.

The year two thousand and ten is quickly approaching. In these last few days of nine, I think I’ll put to rest a lot of old skeletons and emerge a fresh, spirited and ready individual in the new year.

I’m in Ireland at the moment. Home. Spending Christmas with the family, whom I have to admit – I’ve missed quite some. I very almost didn’t make it home due to silly weather and temperatures and things.

It was quite a harrowing experience indeed, taking off adjacent to a Boeing 747 which has ditched on the airport’s grassy verge due to an icy runway. Way to inspire confidence, eh?

But alas, I am here. I’ve drank my fair share of champers, sloe gin and beaujolais. I’m enjoying good food, good company, a good book, as always good television and a spot of catching up with some old friends, family and such.

So far, it’s been lovely. I only hope that you’ve had as enjoyable a holiday as I have thus far.

Be sure to remember that which is important in life – family, friends and fun. Smile, skip and have a very full, enriched Christmas break.

TTFN,

(Until 2010?)

x

I’ve just experienced a week of ache, pain and close to complete loss of faith in the human race. Never before have I been subjected to such abuse, hatred and unrest. No joke; I’ve been berated with a man with a prosthetic limb, to the extent that he took it off and shook it at me… I’ve had people call me ‘cunt’, ‘bastard’ and ‘wanker’. I’ve experience the wrath of old ladies – sweet and docile looking old ladies, who have seen it necessary to brandish their sticks and umbrellas at me, and tell me to ‘fuck off, back home’. Ridiculous. You’d swear they thought I was a banker.

Not only was the job an emotional kick in the teeth every five minutes, but also the hours were long, wet, cold and unsavoury. With my existing back problems, my condition only worsened during the week and the inevitable happened – it amplified. Every night I was going home bent double, literally lying in my hallway for around an hour recuperating… My pain, was followed by lack of sleep, amplified stress and a pair of very chapped lips…

Now, I know, I know – I seem like a tit. A silly beggar who moaned and groaned about not being able to get a job, yadda, yadda, yadda…

But, having popped into a lovely little Coffee/Tea place called ‘Brewhaha’, I (in quite an off-the-bat manner) asked if they’d any jobs going… Turned out they did. And seeing as I didn’t have my CV there and then… I told them I’d pop in the following morning. So I did… And they very quickly offered me a job. For a little less money than the previous job, I have a routine, pleasant clientele, an apron, warmth and stability. And my health.

Yes, I’m silly in ways. But it feels right. So, I’m doing it. That simple.

I’ve been working on ideas surrounding the creation of ‘Philip & Paul’ the Show. Watch this space… Could be posting to a blog near you, very very soon.

Hope ya’ll are well. I miss properly blogging!

Bring on stability, eh?

TTFN,

x

I have been unsuccessful in procuring a scholarship for the MA in Television Fiction Writing. Thus, meaning I won’t be able to study this year. The panel of executives decided that I had ‘excellent potential’ but was a little young and inexperienced.

Therein lies my predicament. How does one gain experience, when the course which provides the necessary instruction, rejects you?

Rhetorical of course. My question has a very simple solution: One must whore oneself.

Yes, it’s rash and un-paying in ways – but I’m hoping that if I start throwing some of my work around that someone might eventually pick it up and perhaps like it.

I’ve compiled a list of theatres and such who accept new writing. I’ve also made a contact recently who wants me to send them some of my work for consideration; all top secret, of course. Hence my silence.

So, I guess if you’re someone in the industry; please, don’t hesitate to get in touch.

Shameless plug, over and out.

TTFN,

x

Lulled in, we were yesterday. It’s strange, I imagined I’d feel most frightened when brought into the room with the panel; however instead, it was quite the polar opposite. I’d never ever felt as invited and at ease in such a circumstance. Surreal. All I can do now is wait in hope.

Travelling again today, home & to bed predominately. I’ve a very early start in the morrow. Leaving at 4am to be in London for 9am – catching an afternoon matinee of Wicked with Catherine, all being well. Then dinner, then to Catherine’s Opera near Waterloo on the South Bank. Very much looking forward to seeing that after several months of rehearsals and such.

Fingers crossed in the meantime. What’s funny is that one panel mentioned that we’d find out in a week, a proviso said that we’d find out tomorrow (today), and another panel said we’d find out in ten days. How conflicting, & not to mention nervewracking.

Wish me luck.

TTFN,

x

The beach experience was indeed more fun than I make out. We swam a little, thus – our penises disappeared for a little while. I’d imagine if you were to tip your fridge freezer onto it’s side, then stand in the freezer end – you’d probably be warmer than we were, in our ridiculousness.

We found a little shark. A dogfish. Of course, it wouldn’t be a ‘drama field trip’ without fucking around with perspective & dead sea creatures…

Yes, it’s Chris – acting a maggot and pretending to be eaten by a little shark. I’m assuming you’re being cynical right now and thinking – oh god, what are these morons doing? If so; I feel ya’. Morons…

This weeks been busy. I know that’s a bit of a broken record, however seeing as I’m completing my final year undergrad degree, that’s how I roll at this current climate. Work, work and yet more work. I eat whilst I work and funny enough, I’ve been dreaming about work! I’m under the impression that I should be sleeping with notebook & pen in hand, so as I don’t wake up disappointed that it was all a dream!

Just finished watching Lakeview Terrace. Wow. Neil Labute’s a very multitalented guy. I recently played Ben in Labute’s post-9/11 play ‘The Mercy Seat’. Start of a long love affair methinks…

Have been busy since posting about the meeting with Dave. The very nice man gave me some advice with regards to my writing career; informing me – very politely – that I should hurry up and take my finger ‘out’. Ha. After telling him about the piece that I’m writing at the minute, he complimented what he referred to as a number of ‘strong images’ and insisted that I should write it as a screenplay, and pitch it to the BBC. One step at a time Dave; this writer thinks he might just need a little more instruction and hopes to get that from the masters degree that he’s just applied to.

Yes, I have finally sent off my application to Glasgow Caledonian University, for a place and HOPEFULLY a scholarship on their television fiction writing masters program. Mark’s given me a ‘glowing reference’, along with Dave! The only thing that will inhibit my application is my degree classification which, to be honest, isn’t at the place it should be. Although, my creative writing grades are top-notch – I seem to be falling behind in the more academic area. Boohoo. Here’s hoping Glasgow Cale take a shine to me at the interview! I’m sure it won’t be a disaster at all, considering the course director is a vampire enthusiast and has completed her PhD on the subject of said phenomena. Awesome…

My bed is calling, as I’ve a meeting tomorrow, a la avant-garde. Cannot wait to see the arsehole of this week. Catherine’s birthday on Wednesday! Greatly looking forward to it also, albeit it seems to be falling at the worst possible time for both her & I. Screw it. A couple of days off never hurt anyone.

Until next time,

x