Couldn't Agree More...

...with the sentiment of this song. Brilliant.

Away We Go

Season's greetings and all that jazz. I bring well wishes to all at this oh-so-merry time of year. The reason for my well wishes are because things have been going very well of late for yours truly. I now have an agent, which is exciting. Of course, I understand that getting an agent is really just the beginning of the battle but it is a beginning nonetheless. The quest marches on.

Also, I was delighted to find out that the diabolical sound issues I am having with my short can be fixed and will not require a re-shoot. This news alone was enough to make me want to sing like a mockingbird (albeit a flabby, pasty English one) from the hills of Griffith Park. Thus all I have to do now is re-shoot a few inserts, get the sound fixed and we're away. Well, then I suppose there's the small matter of building a promotional web-site, starting a production company, getting it on imdb and submitting it to festivals around the globe in the vain hope that someone will realise my quite obvious genius and make me rich beyond my wildest dreams....but, you get the point. I'm getting there.

Speaking of genius, I had the pleasure, which might be the wrong word, of watching "127 Hours" last night. If you haven't already, go and see it as it is fantastic. A little bit cheesy in parts but James Franco's quite brilliant performance more than makes up for it. In my humble opinion he should definitely get an Academy Award nomination...to him I offer a slow, gentlemanly golf clap. Bravo sir, bravo.

Another cultural reference that caught my eye was Mr. David Cross. Better known as Tobias from "Arrested Development", Cross is one of the few stand-ups I have seen of late that really got me in what I like to call 'the no shame zone" - wherein someone or something makes you laugh in such a way that all dignity is immediately abandoned.

I am determined to try this one day:


Here's hoping Father Christmas brings me a new TV so I don't have to rely on youtube for audiovisual sustinence.

Big up!

JB.

My Year In Facebook Updates

I found this rather amusing...and very 2010 of me.

Alot of football updates and movie references. Conclusion: I should get out more.

JB.

Tunes Currently Adding Cheese To My Pickle...

* Beasts From The East - The Lost Boyz (featuring one of the best rap verses you'll ever hear)

* Corpus Christi Carol - Jeff Buckley

* Free Until They Cut Me Down - Iron & Wine

* Una Furtiva Lagrima - Enrico Caruso

* Let Down - Radiohead

* After The Goldrush - Neil Young

* Aneurysm - Nirvana

* Jonz In My Bonz - D'Angelo

* Brown Paper Bag - Roni Size

* Back Door Man - The Doors

Enjoy,

John.

Lyrics To Live By...

"He's as blind as he can be,
Just sees what he wants to see,
Isn't he a bit like you and me?"

(The Beatles - "Nowhere Man")

Lizard Season

This week has been a frantic one. A good thing, in my humble opinion, as it means I've actually got stuff to do rather than idly getting fat and watching films. This week has also been a week of meetings. I know it sounds very "Annie Hall" but it's sort of the name of the game out here.

"Yay, corporate friends!"

I have been steadily getting my reel out to agents around town and, as a result, scored a few meetings. Already I've learned that meeting with people, in the formal sense of the word, is a delicate art in itself. Particularly when it comes to agents. Both of you are painfully aware that you need each other, yet neither of you wants that to ever become apparent. Thus the trick is to appear like you have better things going in your career (which of course, you haven't or you wouldn't be here in the first place) but remain interested and delightful enough so that this agent will want to fall all over themselves to make you, and by default them, rich and successful. The ironic thing is that the person across the table is doing exactly the same thing. A good old fashioned stand-off. My technique, of course, is to drop awkward clangers time and again and embarrass my way through the whole charade. It remains to be seen if this method is successful.

One meeting with a particularly lovely lady lead to one of the more awkward moments of my life. She decided that we should have a viewing of my reel in her office as she couldn't quite remember me from the dozens of people she'd seen that week. As soon as it started, every swear word out of my filthy little mouth rang around the silent room like a church bell. The high(low)light being the hearing of the immortal words "I'll fuck around and hit you with the Hennessey dick" at excruciatingly high volume. A little bit uncomfortable, to say the least.

The rest of my time has been spent either working, sitting in ungodly amounts of traffic, reading inspirational shit, or trying to set up meetings with sound people to fix my as yet unfinished short film. Such is the ferocity of competition here in Los Angeles that within two days of me placing an ad on Mandy.com, I had received 92(!!!) responses. Nine. Tee. TWO! People from as far as Osaka, Japan wanted to work on my film. Just absolute global economic meltdown madness I tell thee! Still, I've got my first round of 'interviews' tomorrow so I will finally find out whether my problems (the cursed fridge noise etc.) are mendable or whether a re-shoot will be in order.

Either way is fine with me as I've been steadily working and finally bringing in some cash. At least I was until I got bored yesterday and decided to invest in a new iPhone 4. Now, I've never been one for popular fads, or indeed being always reachable by phone/email/carrier pigeon etc, so I have always resisted the urge to invest in an iphone - also for the fact that anyone I know who's got one can't let go of it for more than 5 minutes without having a panic attack. However, now that I'm in possession of one, in the words of William Shakespeare himself...it is the bollocks! I could honestly blather on all night about the excellence of this product in literally every single imaginable way, however I'll just say that the best thing is the Hipstamatic app I downloaded. It's so good it can make the most crooked, downtrodden door (like the one on the roof of my building) look like this:

Remarkable really.

So, the good news is that I'm busy and lots of things are simmering away nicely. The bad news is that I feel not an ounce of Christmas cheer. As anyone who knows me knows, Christmas is typically my favourite time of year...by far! From the age of 5, when I caught my grandad sneaking into my room dressed as Santa (in truth, despite the denials of my family, I'm pretty sure it was the real thing) I have been hooked. I just love it.

However, this year for the first time in a long time I won't be returning to London for the occassion, thus meaning my first xmas in LA, which so far is about as festive as an Al-Qaeda training camp. It's just weird to be wandering around under blue skies, wearing a t-shirt. I don't like it, not one bit. And call me a curmudgeon but I'm not really a big fan of the whole "isn't the weather great here in southern california?" thing either. One season. That's what we get all year round. It's not right! I can already hear my English bretheren, knee deep in snow as we speak, screaming at me in anger. Fine, I'll take the sun. I'm just saying that being here all year it starts to feel like The Truman Show after a while. If the Truman Show had gang violence and extreme poverty, of course.

Oh well, I suppose I'll try and enjoy it. If I must.

Peace,

JB.

R.I.P. Leslie Nielsen (1926-2010)

Today the world lost one of the true comedy greats and a personal hero of mine, Mr. Leslie Nielsen. Growing up I used to watch "The Naked Gun" and "Airplane" almost religiously and they still make me cry laughing today. Nielsen was the undisputed deadpan king and if there was any further evidence needed, just watch this:

Peace,

JB.

Heroes To Humanity: #112 - Howard Marks

Born in Kenfig Hill, a tiny mining village in the valleys of Wales, the man formerly known as Dennis went on to become the world's biggest Marijuana smuggler during the 1970's and 80's. At the height of his power he was connected to the Sicilian Mafia, The IRA, The Medellin Cartel, MI6 and numerous other shady and illicit organisations.

His autobiography, aptly named "Mr. Nice", documents these events through the eyes of a charmingly innocent Welshman who, at the core of it all, didn't really fancy working for a living. The rest followed. Not once did he use violence or even a threatening word, he simply went about his business, albeit with about 27 aliases, and made boatloads of cash! The book itself is a remarkable read, detailing Howard's lavish life of an international playboy and devoted family man. A weird paradox really considering his occupation. It is triumphant, funny and surprisingly poignant. I can't recommend it highly enough - whatever your views on the legality of ganja (mine, despite not being a weed smoker, is simply that it's a plant...let me repeat, a PLANT!...end of debate.)

So here's to a simple man who bollocksed his way to a life of fame & fortune. Bravo sir.

http://www.howardmarks.name/

Classic Albums - Exile On Main Street

Mick Jagger openly hates it. Upon it's 1972 release, critics panned it. It has not a single...well...single on it, yet this is by far the most celebrated Rolling Stones album in their quite impressive collection.

Avoiding the long dick of the law - namely, the Inland Revenue - The Stones were forced to leave England indefinitely in 1971. Not the end of the world for a filthy rich rock n' roll band, they just scarpered to the French Riviera and set about recording their next album while the suits took care of their tax issues. The result? Exile On Main Street.

From the opening jangle of "Rocks Off" to the slow fade of "Soul Survivor" this record is an almost perfect encapsulation of exactly what was going on in this band's lives at the time. Debauched, dirty, righteous, reflective...it's all here and performed with a blues swagger that you just don't see in bands anymore. This might have something to do with the fact that about 50 people were holed up in Keith Richards' mansion getting wasted and playing music in various rooms until all hours of the night while recording it. Almost every track sounds like the greatest party on the planet. Oh what I would give to have been there.

Although, such is the roughshod charm of this record, when you listen to it...you almost feel like you were. Almost.

Rolling Stones - Sweet Virginia

Time Flies

I can't quite believe it's mid-November already. Madness.

Anyway, lately has been a busy time for me. After several auditions and callbacks last week, not to mention pulling silly shifts with the catering company I now work for, I attended the Valley Film Festival pre-party on Thursday night. These sorts of things are essentially "mixers" for film-makers who are showing something at the festival. Now usually, the thought of an industry party makes my stomach turn and this, initially at least, was no different. When we walked in, I immediately took on the appearance of a cave troll and skulked to the nearest dark corner. However, by the end of the night a great time was had. I met lots of interesting film-making types and hopefully something good will come from it.

Saturday was the screening of Lying Next To Larry. It was part of the 9-film comedy shorts section of the festival and was also a most enjoyable event. The only downside being my utter discomfort during the 8 minutes our film was showing. I can't seem to help hating watching myself on screen. Still we got some good laughs and several people approached me afterwards, which again hopefully will turn to something good.

Surprisingly, there were some outstanding shorts on display (films, not bermudas) including a film by Fabio Cannavaro, of all people, a Casablanca-style piece about Jesus being a card shark, which was excellent, and this film, my personal favourite. If you have a spare twenty minutes I highly recommend watching. A great example of what you can do with a good idea and strong direction:

In other news, I am still wading through the long list of agents to submit myself to. Hopefully I can be done by the end of the week and leave it in the ether for a while. Also, due to my job having events at various functions around town, my celeb-spotting meter has risen considerably in the last week. So far I have seen Alfred Molina (with whom I shared a shite joke), Jeff Dunham, the Mayor of LA (twat) and Michael Portillo (utter twat). Oh, and last night I had the absolute displeasure of crossing paths with the self proclaimed "King of Cars". What. A. Wanker.

I am also fast coming to the conclusion that I should probably invest in a camera to shoot more of my own stuff with. I think ultimately that is where my path lies and, much fun as it is whoring yourself around town at the bottom of the barrel, you get to act in stuff you actually want to do. An area to explore further, definitely.

Peace,

John.

Quote of the Day

"Who said it was that great? It just goes for miles and miles. But so does the M6...and you can drive on that!"

Karl Pilkington on The Great Wall of China

(An Idiot Abroad - Episode 1)

"Forget it Jake, it's Koreatown"

At this very moment, as I write this, I am looking down on the street from my third-storey kitchen window. Below me, a very attractive woman sits in a smart, yet nondescript, Lexus with a Private Investigator. The reasons I know he's a private investigator are two-fold. 1) He is wearing a gun holster over his shirt & tie. 2) He is showing her 8x10 photo's of some kind.

Whatever is on those pictures, the news can't be good. The woman has just spent a good minute smashing her fists into the dashboard and is now broken down in tears, sobbing into the passenger side window. I'm making the assumption that this poor woman's fella is doing the dirty on her, or something worse. Who knows?

Just another Sunday morning in the neighbourhood I suppose.

My Reel

Here is my first acting reel. Thoughts and comments are welcome:

Cheers!

John.

Madness At Every Turn

Turning 30 has had several effects on my life so far. The most potent one being a crystalised fear that I might actually amount to nothing if I don't pull my finger out and make something happen. Nothing like the fear of failure to light a fire up your backside! If anyone ever decides to embark in a career in the business of show, there comes a point where one must face the fact that it's simply not going to happen the way you want it to. In my case, this meant a grim realisation that Steven Speilberg might not hack into my computer, read my scripts and think I'm a genius.

Thus the only way to get what you want is to work hard and push yourself out of the comfort zone. Not just on the odd occasion either! To get anywhere, be it acting, writing, directing, or just getting a decent job in LA, you basically have to live perpetually out of your comfort zone otherwise you ain't gettin' nowhere!

This theory is a difficult one to grasp for a lazy swine like myself, for whom it is so so easy to sit at home, read books, watch films, listen to albums and eat myself into oblivion. So I have tried my damnedest to get up, get out and do the things that terrify me on a daily basis. It is a constant battle and, for me at least, does not come naturally thus meaning a continuous, concerted effort. So far the results have been revelatory.

With a heavy heart (see previous post) I went into several auditions this week, all of which went relatively well. Got one part but had to turn it down due to a conflicting work schedule (very hollywood darling, I know). Had to read for a promotional spot with Zak Galifinakis - meaning the promotional spot involved him, but he wasn't there (much to my disappointment). However, that particular audition was by far the hardest I have ever had - three full pages of dialogue including singing, dancing, whistling and generally behaving like an utter fool in front of the moodiest group of tw*ts I've come across so far. Dignity, see you later!

Most of my other auditions were for student projects / low budget flicks of varying degrees of professionalism. One of them involved my first trip to CAZT Casting studios, which is an utter madhouse. For any actors out there who are feeling a little down on their luck, I suggest you spend an afternoon in the waiting area at CAZT....you'll feel better in no time.

Last night I had an audition for a comedy Improv troupe in the Valley. Again, dignity would not be required for another hour and a half of my life. However, just getting up and doing Improv again reminded me of just how much I love doing it. You basically get to be an absolute bell-end, in various different guises, and pretend to be Paul Whitehouse for a few minutes. To say it went well would be an understatement, I don't even care if I get in. I had so much fun doing it that it became a reward in itself. I even got to do some impressions, which always makes me happy. Marvelous really.

So as far as auditions go, no matter how stupid they may seem, or how undignified the whole process is, just by going through them you're already winning half the battle. So go through them we must...time and again. Even the best get turned down every now and then:

Still, the pursuit of real (see: Paid) work continues in haste. All going well, my reel should be done tomorrow, leaving me open next week to start whoring myself out to agents. The reel is looking relatively smart and a good representation of what I can do (at this point in my career) so fingers crossed on that front.

Now I just need some money to finish my short, which is so close but my skills (or lack thereof) just cannot take it any further. It needs a professional's touch, which of course costs money...always the way, isn't it? So until then, I suppose it's all about staying positive (easier said than done), pushing the limits and always keeping it gangsta...obviously.

Peace,

John.

10/31

Today the world lost a good man. I dedicate this to him:

JB

Things I Hate: #987 - Loud People In Cinemas

So, after a trip to the cinema last night for a viewing of the hilarious "Jackass: 3-D" (highlights included the "Rocky" scenes and an epic midget fight), I was, within minutes of sitting down, reminded of one of my biggest pet peeves on the planet.

Now, being a 3-D event, there comes a point when a notice flashes on screen informing you to put your glasses on. Of course, almost as soon as it went up, some tw*t yelled "Ok everyone, put your glasses on!" Brilliant. You are a mind I am eternally grateful to have crossed paths with...you knob!

Luckily it was Jackass so I wasn't really bothered, but I have experienced this problem more times than I care to remember...especially here in America and, I tells ya, nothing makes me want to commit a mass genocide more!

Thus, in conclusion, to anyone that just can't help themselves blathering on like an attention starved idiot during a film, please just bear in mind that if I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Until then, please do us all a favour, for the sake of humanity and all that is good, just shut up and watch the bloody film.

JB

P.S. - While cueing at the Arclight, stood right behind Marilyn Manson and, for the first time, found myself star-struck. In hindsight, I was probably just terrified.

Back in Town

Greetings one and all. I know you have all been waiting with baited breath for another entry on this blog...well, wait no more my friends. It is here!

So, the past month in England has been most wonderful. I got to see my first (and potentially last, going on current form) Champions League game at the mighty White Hart Lane. I spent almost the entire match pinching myself, especially when we went 4-1 up! I honestly never thought I'd see the day. The rest of my time was a healthy mix of getting hopelessly pissed, seeing new additions (i.e. - people's babies) and working my tabs off trying to get my as yet unpublished novel out to every literary agent in London. I'm currently at 8 rejections from 50 submissions, so fingers crossed.

In my time back home amongst it all, innumerable things happened which I'd be hard pressed to fit into these pages. So, in summation of my time in England, here's a shortlist of what I've learned:

Television:

* The Only Way Is Essex - is an absolute disgrace to the good people of my county. It makes Jersey Shore look like University Challenge. The sooner they stop making us all out to be orange-skinned, materialistic, bell-ends, the better.

* An Idiot Abroad - is the best thing I've seen for a while. The clear highlight being Karl's trip to Mexico...utter brilliance.

* The Inbetweeners final series - not as funny as before...but still really funny. Especially the "dirty talk" episode...

Film:

* Animal Kingdom - Is definitely in the running for film of the year in my humble opinion. An awesome way to kill two hours on the plane, that's for sure.

* The Social Network - was much, much better than I expected and, if there's any justice in the world, Jessie Eisenberg should be nominated for an Oscar. Hats off sir...brilliant performance!

Music:

* The XX - after succumbing to all the post Mercury-Award hype, turns out their album is actually really good. Highly recommended for cold, wet nights.

* As a self confessed lover of freestyle rapping, it's nice to see an Englishman do it well. Step forward Professor Green.

* If there's a better song to listen to while walking through London on a freezing cold night night than this, I've yet to find it:

Life in General:

* Wild Turkey - drank in moderation is disgusting. Drank en masse is absolutely heart-stopping. Avoid at all costs.

* The East End - once feared by everyone in...well...England, is actually starting to look like a rather marvelous place to live. Thanks obviously to the gentrification it's experiencing due to the upcoming Olympic Games. I almost felt safe walking through there at night....almost.

* Turning 30 - much as I tried to be at peace with the whole thing, I think it's crept up on me by surprise and I find myself with a steely wisdom I never had before. I now look at drunken people on nights out and think..."Oh, grow up". Now that is worrying!

All in all, a much needed break. Now it's back to the grind in the weird and wonderful world of Los Angeles. There's lots to do, namely finishing up my film, getting my reel out to every agent in the county, getting some money coming in, and staving off insanity. I'll keep you posted. In the eternal words of Yazz...the only way is up.

Peace,

John.

Aural Pleasures

1) The Suburbs - Arcade Fire

2) Confessions of A.D.D.D - The Coral

3) Hyacinth House - The Doors

4) The Ass - Pharoahe Monch

5) Past and the Pending - The Shins

6) Firewater - Big Pun

7) O! Valencia - The Decemberists

8) Radioactive - Kings Of Leon

9) Magic In The Air - Badly Drawn Boy

10) Part Timer - The Young Knives

Up in Frames

I have spent the entire last week and a half with my face buried, almost literally, in the screen of my laptop diligently going about the arduous process of editing my short film. The footage itself is great, although there are a couple of focus issues, however the main problem I am experiencing is the sound. My god, I knew sound was important but I didn't realise just how important it actually is. It will literally take your production from a slick, professional-looking production, to an amateur piece of shite in an instant. My problem was that, after our first day of shooting, I reviewed the footage and realised that the camera we were using picked up sound just as good as the boom/mic equipment I had hired...or so I thought.

When we were filming, the sound worried me the most. Whether it was worrying about spending hours syncing up what we recorded to the video footage, or dogs barking, or LAPD helicopters flying overhead, or an ant farting, it was on my mind constantly. However, of all the unpredictable elements surrounding us during filming, which one has been my undoing? A sodding fridge! Because of the relative stability of a kitchen, as in - it's going nowhere and there's no traffic, people, animals etc. involved, I had totally neglected the acoustics of the room. Thus I'm left with various different background buzzes and such. Most annoying. The boom mic recordings help not one bit. That bastard fridge, with it's intermittent turnings off and on, has managed to sabotage my scene. It's not the end of the world, it just means that now I'll have to spend hours upon hours filtering the background noise to get something consistent.

Infact, the more I review the footage, the more I'm sensing a re-shoot. Which doesn't worry me other than financially...after all, in the words of Joseph Fritzel, if a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well...and this is most certainly a job worth doing.

The other thing that I have found revelatory in the editing process is the difference a single frame can make. Again, if you get one frame wrong on a move between cuts, it instantly looks crap. Such a fine line...it's driving me mad! It has also really heightened my respect for editors and the genius of their work.

Still, it's all a great learning experience and the entire thing has been an absolute pleasure thus far. There is honestly few feelings better than getting it almost exactly as you originally saw it in your head, which is the essence of the challenge and probably the single most difficult thing about film-making.

As soon as I have a satisfactory rough cut, I'll have it up here for your viewing delight.

Peace,

John.

A Dedication...

...to all the women I've ever loved (including those who have no idea).

JB.

Quote of the Day

"What wiser way, then, to face the Big Tomorrow than with an open mind, an adventurous spirit, and a romantic heart; ready, even eager, for come-what-may?"

Tom Robbins, "Wild Ducks Flying Backward" (Bantam Books, 2005)

The Undeniable Influence of Hollywood

Rocky 1:

Rocky 3:

John.

"In The Can"

Friends, let me tell you a thing about my experience writing, directing and acting in a film. First of all, if you intend to go down the road I did - that is, rent some equipment on the cheap for a weekend, get your friends to star in it as well as occupy several jobs for which an entire crew is usually required - then be prepared for a severe lack of sleep and/or food of any nutritional value. Secondly, in pre-production, prepare. Once you've prepared, prepare some more. Allow yourself to be ready for every single scenario known to man - if winged monkeys carrying laser guided flame throwers were to invade your set, you'll be ready for it - as you are bound to forget something that will end up being vital to the telling of your story. Trying to minimize these instances, in my personal experience at least, is the key to a smooth guerilla production. Preparing includes more than just knowing your lines by the way. As a director, you really do need to analyse every word of that script, checking for shots you want at various points, reactions you want to see from the actors involved and any props that will be needed throughout. I'm sure there's a whole host of other things to remember but I forgot them.

I, of course, failed with all of these points, which is why I give them to you now. However, lucky as I was, a tremendous amount of help from a truly exceptional group of people was afforded to me and we ended up getting most everything I wanted, in one way or another. I cannot thank everyone involved, or indeed praise them highly, enough. They all have big futures so I felt pretty lucky to get them early and at a discounted friend rate.

Day one of the shoot was by all accounts pretty disastarous. I got off work late, made it to the rental place just in the nick of time, then hot-footed it across the traffic strewn roads of LA to my apartment where we proceeded to shoot for the rest of the evening. Two things I hadn't considered: One - next door's dog barking through every f**king take. Two - the temperature in my already baking apartment rising to miserable levels when "movie lights" were thrown into the mix. This is not conducive to good acting or a pleasurable experience for anyone involved. Suffice to say, after we wrapped (at about 2.30am I might add) I was not feeling particularly confident and slept barely a wink for fear I was making the next "The Room".

Day two was much more successful. I had an epiphany in the night and got back to what I wanted to achieve with this piece in the first place - keep the camerawork simple and let the acting do the talking. Thus we did that and got some great footage. We even managed to turn my mate Stas' apartment into a waiting room, which was far more difficult and pat-on-the-back-worthy than it sounds, trust me. Plus we finished on time, which I was also proud of. However, I still didn't sleep as it is just simply impossible to do so under these conditions.

Day three went better than I could have hoped. We managed to turn Taylor's back garden into an organic cafe, which again as before, is bloody hard work! After running around like blue-arsed flies all day and night, we decided (to the sound of a collective groan) to re-shoot everything (yep...everything!) from the Day 1 shoot that evening. Thus we did not finish filming until 2.30am once again. Did I care? Did I f**k? Every second of it was an absolute pleasure...for me at least. For everyone else you'd have to ask them.

Driving back up the 405 at 3 in the morning, I can't begin to describe the feeling of exhaustion, elation and pride at having achieved something I had been secretly aspiring to since as far back as I can remember. Now of course comes the headache of editing the hours of footage, syncing up the sound, re-shooting anything we might have missed (which going by my track record will be plenty) and generally making it not shit, for want of a better phrase. That's all part of the fun though isn't it?

Salutations,

John.

And The Spurs Go Marching On

Penalty courtesy of Mr. Myagi

Today I could not be happier. For those who don't know, today Tottenham Hotspur FC, aka Spurs, aka the bane of my existence for the last 29 years, polished off Young Boys (which isn't a euphemism) 4-0 to qualify for the Champions League group stages for the first time since 1961. Nineteen. Sixty. One!

The letdowns from the past are all forgiven, all those hours I've spent freezing my bollocks off in the rain watching us get dominated, all the jibes I've had to put up with from Arsenal supporters, all those letdowns, all those disappointments, all the Ruel Fox's, Andy Sinton's and Ramon Vega's...they're all worth it just for feelings like today. Bravo boys, I'm proud of you all.

To Peter Crouch...you are a lanky legend sir.

Fingers crossed for Real Madrid in the draw tomorrow.

"GLORY GLORY TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR"

Peace,

John.

Summer Days

Ahhhh, this takes me back.

Quote of the Day

"Kids, you tried and failed miserably. The lesson is, never try."

(Homer Simpson)

Things I Love: Swingers

I remember vividly the first time I even heard about this film. I was in my first year at university and my dear friend (and then room-mate) Adam had watched it one night after I went to bed. The next day he could not stop raving about it, telling me that I simply have to watch it as I would love it and then end scene was almost a direct reflection of an incident that happened in my life. I didn't really pay this much attention, I didn't really pay attention to much at all back then if I'm honest.

However, Christmas rolled around and I bought a VHS copy with my 10 quid HMV voucher. From the first time I laid eyes on it, I absolutely loved it. Not only was it hilarious, poignant and clever, but it was literally like watching an American manifestation of my life up until that point. It is the one film that single-handedly inspired me to write a book (although it took a bloody long time), and want to become an actor and a film-maker. I watched it last night for the first time since I moved to LA and it was like seeing it all again with a fresh pair of eyes. I have now been to most of the places they frequent in the movie and I finally got subtle inside jokes like - "818?"..."No. 310"..."Ooo nice." I'm cool, I know.

Almost as interesting as the film itself is the story of how it got made, which is absolutely remarkable. Made on a budget of 200 grand. Shot in bars/casinos/parties that were open and full of real people. Rejected by film festivals all over. Until it finally showed at a private screening (funded by the cast & crew) and subsequently got picked up, single-handedly launching the careers of Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau, Ron Livingston, Heather Graham and Doug Liman in the process.

Just goes to show, if you're money and you're like a big bear with big f**king claws and big f**king fangs, anything is possible.

P.S. - The last scene really did happen to me. Not exactly but pretty damn similar. Extremely embarrassing.

Writer's Block

Frustrated? Yes. Angry? Indeed I am. Confused? Abso-f**king-lutely Bob!

The reason for these feelings is simple. I have recently decided, in a moment of searing clarity, that the sit-com my writing partner and I have written needs to be on TV...at once. Thus I decided to begin contacting people in London who could make this happen. To say I have been so far disappointed would be a gross understatement.

My instincts told me that the pertinent place to begin this epic journey would of course be production companies. So I went about emailing every company I could find. The response was swift and deadly. "No...f*ck off" being the most common response. Or, more accurately, "Mr. Byford, thank you for your spectacularly charming correspondence, however we at (fill in blank) do not accept unsolicited scripts unless from an agent or an industry professional. P.S - You are extremely handsome and well hung."

So, of course, common logic would dictate that the next place to look would be literary agencies, in order to get our pilot in the right hands. Therefore, I dusted off my copy of "The Writers' & Artists' Yearbook" and went to work. However, I have so far (I'm at the letter 'D' in the list) been frustrated to find exactly the same response from agents - that response being that they also do not accept unsolicited scripts, or they will only if accompanied by a letter of recommendation from a recognised industry person. Even more perplexing is the fact that a number of them have asked for a CV showing my previously published works...and I'll explain why.

You see, here's my problem (and I'm sure you can by now tell where I'm going with this)...if TV companies only accept scripts from production companies, and production companies only accept scripts from agents, and agents only accept scripts from their already established clients, then where the f**k does that leave me??? It's not like I can quickly run through my phone and call up sodding Elton John is it? "Yes, Elton old buddy old pal. You wouldn't mind being a dear and typing me a letter of recommendation so I can get this blasted TV Show off the ground, would you?"

It's like having a big glass wall in front of you. You can see through to the other side, look at them all having fun chinking champagne glasses and living the dream, my dream, but you cannot get in. There's no door. Nothing to even knock on, let alone be heard from.

I might be sounding somewhat defeatist, but I'm not. I honestly don't care if you put an army of heavily armed, land-dwelling robotic sharks from the future in front of me, it's happening one way or the other. My gripe is with the absolute twisted logic of this process. If you were to take the information I have recently found as red - i.e. absolutely objective - then it would be impossible for a CV to be built or any new ideas to ever see the light of day or indeed any unknown writers to ever get a break. Luckily for me, I am naive and stupid not to let this put me off. I mean, at the end of the day the worst they can do is tell me to sling it. It just upsets me that the industry itself seems to be geared towards producing essentially "cash cows", meaning in this case safe options that they know will succeed and keep the cheques rolling in. From a business standpoint, this makes sense. From an artistic one, it makes none. (As proven time and again)

So, I have decided that one day in the future when I am nice and successful, I intend fully to start a company which will be solely dedicated to the nurturing and procuring of new ideas from absolute unknowns like myself. You can quote me on that friends.

Fight the power!

John.

Heroes To Humanity: #68 - Jim Morrison

After getting extremely drunk on whiskey and beer last night, I have spent today immersed in things I'm interested in. Namely, The Doors. The perfect hangover band.

I began by watching "When You're Strange" which is a very interesting, somewhat surreal documentary about The Doors. While they have always been one of my all time favourite bands, I never really knew much about their story. Well, their story is really the story of one man...Jim Morrison. When the band formed in 1965, he was a quiet, shy military-raised kid who would turn his back on the audience from fear. By 1966, he was the swaggering, shirtless, rock-god we all know and love today. Watching him gyrate around the stage like a possessed shaman, howling out classics like "Break On Through" it became immediately apparent to me that they just do not make rock stars like this any more. All of the Justin Bieber's, Kesha's, and Miley Cyrus' of the world should hang their little corporate, vacant heads in shame.

R.I.P - Mr. Mojo Risin'

The Doors - "LA Woman"

Lyrics To Live By

"Been working for the church
While your life falls apart
Singing hallelujah with the fear in your heart
Every spark of friendship and love
Will die without a home
Hear the soldier groan, "We'll go at it alone"

(Arcade Fire - "Intervention")

Terrible Films (continued...)

By popular demand, well two people technically, I have decided to expand my all time worst films to a list of 10. Now, Magnolia is off the list because it has yet to stand the test of time. I have also excluded shite which no-one would expect to be good in the first place ('You Got Served', Spiceworld, Boat Trip etc.) So, in ascending order once again:

10) Tommy Boy (1995) - Oh I get it, a fat bloke and a skinny bloke together in the same film is HILARIOUS! Except it's not, is it. If someone could explain how this film is considered "comedy" I'd really appreciate it. Also, could you please explain how David Spade has had a career? Thanks.

9) The Matrix Revolutions (2003) - Yay! Zion is saved! Oh wait...I couldn't give a f**k. So bad that it managed to ruin the once-brilliant first film all on it's own accord. Just bile-inducing from beginning to end. Also features the most pointless fight ever.

8) Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999) - Why would you do that to us, George? Why? Why would you want to take something sacred and holy and shit all over it, viciously raping it until it's last dollar falls into your lap? Jar Jar Binks, George? Why, George? Why?

7) Deep Blue Sea (1999) - This film is almost redeemed by the scene where Samuel L. Jackson gets eaten, mid-inspiring speech. However, this moment of hilarity is quickly off-set by sharks that can twist bolts, open locked doors, read, write, play the guitar etc. and LL Cool J killing the final shark with his "bling". A turkey for the ages.

6) Miami Vice (2006) - This Michael Mann re-make of the TV series is deeply, epicly, crap. The plot is...well...there is no plot. The 'action scenes' look like I shot them on my phone and it features one of the most wooden (but actually hilarious) love stories of all time, including Colin Farrell prancing about spouting absurd one-liners like "We made moves on each other". Garbage.

I need a shower.

John.

Avoid At All Costs

Last night I had the displeasure of watching Paul Thomas Andersen's "Magnolia". I had high hopes for this piece. A stellar ensemble cast, a "genius" director, critics lavishing it with praise, I thought "how could this possibly go wrong?". Well let me tell you friends, not only did it go wrong, but this bloated, ridiculously pretentious monstrosity instantly arrowed it's way into my top worst films of all time. 180 long minutes of actors "being intense", people coping with "life's big questions", and a nice shower of frogs at the climax. I think the last 45 minutes were literally just various people crying. Utter tripe. The low-light really came for me when all of these intensely troubled, deliberately morose, poorly developed characters, in the depths of their despair, all sing along to the same f**king song! Despite being in different locations and totally unaware of each other's existence!! Awful bloody film. Although Tom Cruise was quite good, I'll give him that.

So, unable to regain that three hours (yes THREE) I sat and pondered what the worst films I'd ever seen were. I think I got it down to the following list. In ascending order:

5) Batman & Robin (1997) - Clooney's absolute non-attempt to play anything other than George Clooney...in a rubber suit. Mr. Freeze. Ice-skating baddies. Robin! Batgirl!!! The list goes on. Thank god for Christopher Nolan.

4) Little Nicky (2000) - It's Adam Sandler's worst film. Which is a bit like listing Hitler's worst crime. If you laughed at this film I suggest you go and take a long look in the mirror.

3) Independence Day (1996) - The president of the United States fighting Aliens? F**k right off.

2) Elizabethtown (2005) - I remember watching this film, getting about half way through and realising that I had absent-mindedly eaten my own leg. Cameron Crowe hang your head in shame.

1) Brothers (2000) - Not the recent one with Jake Gyllennhall and my wife, but the UK one made about 10 years ago. My cousin (pictured here giving someone a stern talking to) lent this dvd to me, calling it the "best British film since Lock, Stock...". About an hour in, I contemplated executing him for his own good. Luckily it was a practical joke. This film truly has to be seen to be believed.

Rant over.

John.

Double Rainbow:

I really want to hang out with this bloke:



Hilarious, I think you'll agree.

John.

The Truth Is Out There

In attempting to find answers about the big questions of the world, one could do a lot worse than seeking out the various works of Noam Chomsky. A professor in linguistics at the famed M.I.T, an intellectual of the highest order and probably one of the United States biggest dissidents, Chomsky has for a long time been highly critical of his home country's foreign policy and, so it would seem to me at least, rightly so.

As I've mentioned in this blog several times, I have been avidly reading his magnum opus, "Manufacturing Consent" of late. I have likened the experience to being unplugged from the matrix and, much as I've tried to think of a less shit term, I really can't find a better analogy.

The most striking thing is the U.S. Government's absolute willingness to lie to us about any subject on the planet. And I do mean flat-out lie. Now, I'm aware that the reaction to comments like that is usually something like "Oh yeah? What do you know about it Byford? The government wouldn't lie to us and if they do, it's to protect us blah blah blah." My answer to that is....bollocks! As the title of this post suggests, the answers are out there if you're interested in finding them. Chomsky presents unquestionably balanced arguments in all of his works (that I've read, anyway) and each point that he makes isn't the drunken ramblings of some stoned, liberal, left-wing beat poet, it is instead the articulated findings of a man backed up by and abundance of one very important, not to mention tangible, thing...FACTS.

Too often do the facts get lost in political mud-slinging and rhetoric, yet I have made it a point to seek out everything referenced in his book. Lo and behold, the FACTS are there and it's all true. All of it in plain view, right under our noses. It's just never reported. There's not enough time or space here to discuss exactly what has gone down in...hmmm...about the last 60 years or so to establish America as the most powerful nation on earth but let's just say that blood has been spilled my friends, in abundance. Countries to examine closely, to begin with at least, are Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Vietnam and most crucially, Cuba. Trying to answer the question, "why does the U.S. hate Cuba so much?" is the first step into the rabbit hole.

Chomsky's book itself focuses primarily on the media's role in this whole dance and, as far as that's concerned, I couldn't help but constantly refer back to George Orwell's "1984". It's almost as if the governmental policies shown in that book were transcribed, given to the white house and someone went "Hang on a minute...this might work!". It's like Imperial Propaganda for Dummies. He who controls the past, controls the future. He who controls the present, controls the past. Think about that!

As I've reached the conclusion of this book I have never been so fascinated, confused and most of all, utterly appalled in all my life. The worrying thing is that everything I'm reading isn't the outline for the next Tarantino epic, these are real people...dying...for us to live comfortable lives. I feel sick just thinking about it. Make no mistake, we live under the rule of a modern empire. It's every bit as savage, brutal and explosive as the Greeks, Romans or British before it and probably three times as powerful. And it's going nowhere anytime soon. Need further evidence? Read Mr. Noam Chomsky.

I'm off to shower off this pink goo and wonder if ignorance really is bliss.

Peace,

John.

"This should be played at high volume...

...preferably in a residential area."

Been driving around all morning location scouting and bumping this CLASSIC track (from my youth) very, very loud.

Peace.

Tunes Currently Shifting My Gears:

* My Party - Kings of Leon

* Deep Cover - Dr. Dre & Snoop Dogg

* Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks

* Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons

* Hyper Music - Muse

* Sleep Now In The Fire - Rage Against The Machine

* Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear

* Dear God 2.0 - The Roots

* Columbia - Oasis

* Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson

* A Peak You Reach - Badly Drawn Boy

* The Tale - Ty

* 1000 Years - The Coral

Mercury is here

This week the shortlist for this year's famed (in England anyway) Mercury Music Prize was announced. Traditionally, the award goes to the supposed 'best British album' of the previous year. However, this is rarely the case. Indeed what the award really sets out to achieve is to break some new and unheard of artist and avoid any obvious cliches about who gets the award, such as sales or success. In the case of Badly Drawn Boy (winner in 2000), this is a good thing...M People? (winner in 1994), not so much.

The very fact that the Spice Girls were even nominated one year should make me denounce the whole thing as a pile of horse bollocks and run the streets in protest. However the shortlist does, most of the time, contain the most diverse, cutting edge and usually the best music of the past year so it's worth checking out. Just don't expect your favourite artist to win it.

Top 10 albums nominated, but not winners, for the Mercury Music Prize:

1) Oasis - Definitely Maybe

2) Radiohead - Ok Computer (what???)

3) Prodigy - Fat of the Land

4) Coldplay - Parachutes

5) Zero 7 - Simple Things

6) The Coral - The Coral

7) The Streets - Original Pirate Material

8) Kasabian - West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum (Speech Debelle???)

9) Ty - Upwards

10) Radiohead - In Rainbows

My vote for this year is quite obviously Mumford & Sons, but I won't hold my breath. I see it going to The XX. You heard it here first folks.

It was all a dream...

Busy week last week. Time for an update.

I have finally taken the plunge and decided to fulfill (in part at least) my boyhood fantasy of writing, directing and being in a film. Granted it will only be a short film, and not Star Wars 7, but it's a start. I had the first table read with the cast last week and it went amazingly well. It's quite a feeling to have people acting out dialogue that came directly from your demented skull, and doing far more with it than you ever imagined. Incredible. All going well, we should be shooting in a couple of weeks and I could not be more excited at the thought. However, one thing I have quickly realised is just how much planning, technicality and thought goes into the making of a film...even one that's 15 minutes long and largely just features people talking to each other. I can't even imagine creating something like "Lord of the Rings" or "Inception", Christopher Nolan's latest flash of genius. As I sat watching it, all I could think was "how the fook would you even attempt that?". I suppose that's why he is the man he is and I the man I am...sigh.

Staying on topic...if you haven't already, I highly recommend seeing "Inception". I honestly haven't had that satisfying an experience at the (non red-light) cinema since...well...The Dark Knight. The action is mind-blowingly good, the acting is top notch from an outstanding ensemble cast, and the story is deep and clever enough to make me question my very own existence...always a good thing. In short, see it. Now. Before I hunt you down and kneecap you. You slag!

The weather is another topic I must address. I have never been so hot as I have been the past few days. Especially being that I live in an apartment which has no Air Conditioning and gets the sun all up in it's grill (to quote one of my neighbours) from about 1.30 onwards. Cue many unsightly images of me writing at my workspace wearing nothing but my boxers and an icepack on my neck, dripping sweat. Another side effect of this heat is me getting migraines. Anyone who suffers them will understand the pain and misery they put you through, anyone whose never had one, in my experience at least, just thinks your being a pussy. Such is life I suppose.

Guilty Pleasure of the Week: Jackass Number Two. Sometimes, especially in the realms of aspiring comedy-types like myself, it's easy to get caught up in trying to employ intellect or social comment, or heartfelt romance into your work. Indeed at times I myself have fallen victim to thinking I'm above the more primitive pleasures in life. At the end of the day though, there's just something about watching a grown man chug a beer bong up his arse which just cuts me to the core. I haven't laughed that much in ages. Johnny Knoxville et al., god bless you.



Peace,

John.

Quote of the Day

"This may be the year when we finally come face to face with ourselves; finally just lay back and say it — that we are really just a nation of 220 million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns, and no qualms at all about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable."

(Hunter S. Thompson - Fear & Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72)

Lyrics To Live By

"Not strong, only aggressive

Not free, only licensed

Not compassionate, only polite

Now who's the nicest?

Not good, but well behaved

Chasing after death so we can call ourselves brave?

Still living like mental slaves

Hiding like thieves in the night from life

Illusions of oasis making you look twice"

(Black Star - "Thieves In The Night")

Good, Bad & Ugly

The good news is that I got a job, finally! The bad news is that it is only for a couple of months and it doesn't start until July 12th. Now, while for most people this might seem like a welcome respite and indeed maybe a chance to take a little trip somewhere before the job begins, for my broke arse, it just means I've got bugger all to do. Cue lots of thumb twiddling and whistling in the wind.

Thus I decided to concentrate on finishing some writing projects which I put on the old back burner (which is by now overflowing) a while ago. So I packed my things up and headed down to a coffee shop on Melrose and went to work. Six hours later I finished a script I've been working on for god knows how long. When I say finished, I mean all my ideas are out of my head and onto a page. It's the only way I know how to work - by getting every stupid thought that crosses my brain on to paper, then wading through the drivel in the hope that there's something good in there. Luckily for this project I'm certain there is and hopefully by the end of next week, it'll be ready to go.

What was also interesting was that in my six hours sat looking onto the streets of Los Angeles I saw several amusing sights. 1) A black man being arrested by the police for what I can only assume was shoplifting, then resisting arrest and getting roughed up in front of a huge crowd. To my disappointment, no Watts-style riot ensued. 2) A young, regular looking, male no older than myself walking down the street wearing nothing but some shoes and a stars & stripes set of Speedos as if it were the most normal activity in the world. 3) A young lady waiting for a coffee in a full bear hat. Yes, one of those ones with the ears and the under-the-chin straps - this being despite the fact it was about 90 degress out. 4) A man wearing a t-shirt that simply said the word "Fuck" in huge green letters.

Only in LA - Land of the weird, home of the strange.

Glastonbury 2010

This year I had to miss Glastonbury, which, as anyone who knows me knows, is probably my favourite place on earth...especially when the sun's out, as it was the entire time this year. Now, I'm not usually the jealous type but after hearing Radiohead played a secret acoustic show on the Park Stage I was filled with green envy and regret at not getting a ticket! Thus I have spent all morning watching performances. Stevie Wonder looked incredible, Faithless looked in good shape, Gorillaz did a sweet version of Clint Eastwood with Snoop Dogg, Mumford & Sons on the John Peel stage looked awesome but it was Muse looked like they kicked the most arse. Indeed, watching them reminded me of their star-making performance in 2004 on Sunday night. I was exhausted, wet, cold and covered in mud. Yet they still blew me away. Conclusion: definitely going next year.

Muse - Stockholm Syndrome (Glastonbury 2004)

Things I Love: Withnail and I

This week I finally got round to watching this cult classic. I wasn't really too excited by it's arrival (from Netflix) but one bored night I decided to give it a whirl. To my delight, I spent the next two hours absolutely pissing myself laughing - so much so that I immediately (the next night) watched it again. In fact I still haven't sent it back. The dialogue is some of the best I've ever seen in a film and taps into a certain delirious, eccentric British rhythm that is sorely lacking from our film industry these days. The characters, from Uncle Monty to The Poacher to the almighty Danny, are amazing. The performances from every actor in this film are outstanding, but Richard E. Grant's turn as Withnail is one of the best I've ever seen. Even more remarkable when you consider it was his first film and the fact that he is a teetotal non-smoker.

The entire film is pretty much a memorable quote fest, but my favourite (for now, at least) comes from Danny the Drug Dealer:

"If I medicined you, you'd think a brain tumor was a birthday present"

I advise everyone to go and watch this film...with immediate effect.

World Cup 2010: Round One Round-Up

So, we have reached the conclusion of round one of the 2010 World Cup. There have been controversies galore, upsets aplenty and England playing predictably shit. But what have we learned?...

1) If I had a choice between the sound of an orphanage burning down and that of the vuvuzela, the kiddies might want to check for the nearest exit.

2) World Cup referees are joyless, power-hungry, pedantic little nazi thugs who obviously get off on ruining everyone else's good time. Kaka, Berahmi, the entire US team, and especially Tim Cahill, should have no hesitation in fire-bombing the swine's houses.

3) Wayne Rooney, despite claiming otherwise, will always be a petulant little twat. I wouldn't mind if he hadn't resembled a drunken, one-legged donkey for most of the tournament thus far.

4) Argentina and Chile have, by some distance, been my favourite teams to watch. It's nice to see teams play with a bit of guile, invention and most of all, FUN! Bravo chaps.

5) The Jubulani ball is quite obviously as useful as a wet turd, as proven by the lack of quality goals. Fifa take note...making a ball lighter does not make it better.

6) According to a number of players, the latest development in human evolution is that the chest is now apparently directly connected to the very sensitive "face muscle" and upon impact causes an instant collapse to the floor and unbearable facial cramping. The only cure for this ailment is the sight of a red card.

7) Whereas Brazil, in World Cups past, used to have an air of otherworldly magic about them (particularly for me in 1994), now they just resemble another European team. Shame really.

8) Diego Maradona is a one-man entertainment machine. He was as a player, he was as a drug abuser, and now he's excelling himself as a manager. I'm not ashamed to say I love him. Oh and Lionel Messi, who is a genius.

9) Landon Donovan, already one of the most annoying humans alive (for reasons I can't quite put my finger on), essentially put England out of the tournament with his last-gasp winner against Algeria. Our path to the cup now consists of (assuming all teams who should win, do) Germany, Argentina, Spain and Brazil. Thanks a lot baldie!

10) Italy's demise was fun, that's a given. But nothing was more fun than watching the French team's implosion...you really can't write that stuff.

On to the last 16.