A lot happened this year; TWWOO, the Ten Minuters, the Jesmond saga, the spirit of the butterfly, the dandelion league and the backwards eight...
And, oh yeah, I moved to Australia.
But there was a theme to all of this: I got what I wanted because I made it happen.
I gave a speech at the dress run of TWWOO, saying how the project had been conceived when I'd had a dream the previous November telling me how to do it. I think most of the cast thought I was just being cheesy, but I was deadly serious. I literally made a dream come true- and the funny thing was, I wasn't going to bother. 2011 was such a fuck factory in terms of trying to get stuff on that I was genuinely just gonna let the haters win and give up.
But I didn't- I stopped butting my head against the brick wall that was Bedlam and embraced the pillowy experimentalism of Relief. And that was one of the best decisions I ever made- people actually told me they were sad I hadn't put on more shows. Not only did the show turn out incredibly, but it was a tonne of fun to do, so I chalk that up as a win.
And of course, there's the matter of getting to Australia in the first place; I had forgotten to hand in a very important form, without which essentially I wouldn't be able to enroll in Melbourne. I needed Phoneybone to sign it, but he was away on research. EXCEPT, he was coming back for the graduation party on the day the form needed handing in. I had a choice; sneak into graduation party or risk not going.
I have never felt so underdressed in all my life.
And what about the Ten Minuters? I wasn't going to bother submitting a script- it was an hour before the deadline and I hadn't written anything; I manned up and got to scribin'. And then I wasn't going to audition because there was a film on I wanted to see. Yet again, I did it anyway. I ended up winning awards for both writing and acting. Now who's laughing?
Do you see what I'm saying repeatedly? I got what I wanted because I tried. I'm hoping I can remember that in 2013- because this has been the best year of my life, and I only want it to get better.
Sunday 30 December 2012
Saturday 29 December 2012
Tabula Rasa
So, what have Blank Slate been up to while I was being all secretive? Well, I believe I can sum it all up in one picture:
There. All your questions answered.
In case you can't tell, and I don't imagine you can, that thing in my hands is a puppet, fashioned from bright yellow bin liners and the travel cushion I bought. It has two heads which, if you have incredibly fine eye sight, you will notice are fashioned from barbecue tongs and a pasta strainer.
Yes, we made puppets. And this was the general quality of them. I jest: Andrew's and the other's were much, much better. Which may be why mine ended up being the predator of the puppet world: theirs were much easier to relate to (there was one which had no legs, and a Glasgow smile, poor thing). So, yes, we made a narrative about an abandoned side show freak who is set upon by a hydra which then tears itself apart in fear when its dog is killed...I guess you had to be there. But I was the hydra.
The next day we made even more puppets and I decided I was going to make a jellyfish, which then turned into God. It happens to us all on occasion. Meanwhile, Andrew made cup bunnies, and we essentially made Bambi, with more fucking and Godlyfish. It was fun.
We also tried our hand at scaring each other with only bin bags (Andrew has a fetish); I won't speak of what happened, but there was a lot of choking, blindfolds and burying alive. You really can't imagine the horror.
The next time we met, 'twas just Andrew and I, and we decided to make a music video. I'll post the video below: I'd explain the logic behind it, but I've always felt director's commentaries ruined films.
In case you can't tell, and I don't imagine you can, that thing in my hands is a puppet, fashioned from bright yellow bin liners and the travel cushion I bought. It has two heads which, if you have incredibly fine eye sight, you will notice are fashioned from barbecue tongs and a pasta strainer.
Yes, we made puppets. And this was the general quality of them. I jest: Andrew's and the other's were much, much better. Which may be why mine ended up being the predator of the puppet world: theirs were much easier to relate to (there was one which had no legs, and a Glasgow smile, poor thing). So, yes, we made a narrative about an abandoned side show freak who is set upon by a hydra which then tears itself apart in fear when its dog is killed...I guess you had to be there. But I was the hydra.
The next day we made even more puppets and I decided I was going to make a jellyfish, which then turned into God. It happens to us all on occasion. Meanwhile, Andrew made cup bunnies, and we essentially made Bambi, with more fucking and Godlyfish. It was fun.
We also tried our hand at scaring each other with only bin bags (Andrew has a fetish); I won't speak of what happened, but there was a lot of choking, blindfolds and burying alive. You really can't imagine the horror.
The next time we met, 'twas just Andrew and I, and we decided to make a music video. I'll post the video below: I'd explain the logic behind it, but I've always felt director's commentaries ruined films.
Friday 28 December 2012
Chasin' Jason
So, Jason has left. This is saddening- but we must soldier on. We will reforge the shattered pieces into a glorious new jigsaw puzzle, one free of Jason and his incessant boasting of how much he has done with his life.
Right after two days of moping in bed.
'But, Rory!' You cry, spittle flying and a crazed look in your eye (my god, you do get passionate about these blog posts, don't you?), 'I wanna hear about Australian Christmas!' At this point, you stamp your feet and throw all your toys out of the cot because I haven't housebroken you properly. Well, fine, metaphorical baby readers, here's how christmas went down: on christmas eve, Jason and I attended a double bill of Shop Around the Corner and It's a Wonderful Life; we had to leave the second slightly early and so in my mind that film now ends with him committing suicide- I don't know why everyone calls it uplifting.
Jason and I then returned home and drunkenly chatted with loved ones on the internet, and showed each other pictures of how we used to look (so much hair...*shudder*).
The next morning, Shane, Jason, me and some douche I've never met before had a barbecue for breakfast.
There were sausages, sauce and bread. We'd hunted the bread ourselves, because we're MEN. During this time we tried to name all fifty states of the US because the brain can atrophy like any other muscle.
Then, the douche left, stung by his inability to remember New Hampshire, and the three real men sat down to smoke and ruminate. Not cigarettes, little one, my heavens no, but a hukkah pipe. It was really rather relaxing.
After this, we watched some christmas movies, including Charlie Brown and, perhaps more bizarrely, Batman the Animated series, then Jason and I went for a walk, wherein we encountered a brown snake. Let me dictate for you how it went down:
Truly, I am both the st Patrick and the shakespeare of our time.
On Boxing Day, I saw the Hobbit, and honestly I was disappointed: they've turned what is an enjoyable fantasy heist movie into a bloated diatribe on what 'home' means. There's a lot to be enjoyed, but also a lot that could be cut.
Interestingly, I saw Les Mis and I would have much preferred for that to have been split into multiple films: or, even better, presented like an old film with an interval in between two two hour parts. So, essentially, a stage play on screen. Hmmm...
Then, on the 27th, I stayed up all night with Jason, wishing him farewell and then spent the next two days sleeping it off. Go me. I really will miss the blighter, and am now holding auditions for his replacement, but things aren't looking too swell on that front: I may have to wait til term begins anew. Which is in february. Alack.
P.S. I realise I still owe a Blank slate post and a 'the other stuff I did when I didn't post for ages' post, but hold your horses. They're coming.
Probably.
P.P.S. As of today, this trip is the longest I've ever spent away from home.
Right after two days of moping in bed.
'But, Rory!' You cry, spittle flying and a crazed look in your eye (my god, you do get passionate about these blog posts, don't you?), 'I wanna hear about Australian Christmas!' At this point, you stamp your feet and throw all your toys out of the cot because I haven't housebroken you properly. Well, fine, metaphorical baby readers, here's how christmas went down: on christmas eve, Jason and I attended a double bill of Shop Around the Corner and It's a Wonderful Life; we had to leave the second slightly early and so in my mind that film now ends with him committing suicide- I don't know why everyone calls it uplifting.
 |
| Pictures from the Astor, where we viewed this depressionfest. |
The next morning, Shane, Jason, me and some douche I've never met before had a barbecue for breakfast.
 |
| Not pictured: croissants in the conservatory. |
 |
| All that's left of the dropbears that jumped us during the bread hunt. |
 |
| Jason's christmas hukkah. |
After this, we watched some christmas movies, including Charlie Brown and, perhaps more bizarrely, Batman the Animated series, then Jason and I went for a walk, wherein we encountered a brown snake. Let me dictate for you how it went down:
JASON: (Thick Gloucestershire accent that is somehow at once both homely and grating) Oi'm not looking where I'm going, so oi'm no!
(The brown snake appears. Jason makes to step on it.)
ME: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
(I dive between Jason and the snake, and, using my incredible kung fu skills, vanquish the fucker (the snake that is, not Jason))
JASON: Oi've never seen a snake trounced so thouroughly before! Neato!
 |
| Starring Rik Hart as the serpent. |
On Boxing Day, I saw the Hobbit, and honestly I was disappointed: they've turned what is an enjoyable fantasy heist movie into a bloated diatribe on what 'home' means. There's a lot to be enjoyed, but also a lot that could be cut.
 |
| Gandalf the grumpy. |
Then, on the 27th, I stayed up all night with Jason, wishing him farewell and then spent the next two days sleeping it off. Go me. I really will miss the blighter, and am now holding auditions for his replacement, but things aren't looking too swell on that front: I may have to wait til term begins anew. Which is in february. Alack.
P.S. I realise I still owe a Blank slate post and a 'the other stuff I did when I didn't post for ages' post, but hold your horses. They're coming.
Probably.
P.P.S. As of today, this trip is the longest I've ever spent away from home.
Thursday 20 December 2012
Really, really sorry Rachael
...It would seem reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated (I'm looking at you, Spanish Daniel). Yes, despite the best efforts of the world's deadliest continent to boil me to death, the flying crocodiles Jason and I encountered and the spider I found in my coat this morning, I am still entwined within this mortal coil.
But then why have I not been updating?!, you cry, because you're easily excitable; the answer is simple: I was saving it for a christmas present. I was gonna tell you all the exciting things I've been doing this holiday on christmas day itself, thereby rendering that day of days even extra specialer. But you all moaned and whined and lamented and whinged and cried and sneezed and wailed and shrieked and screamed and shouted (Jari was especially bad) that, like that new parent who just wants their infant to shut its freaking face, I'm letting you have your christmas presents early. Lucky you. (especially you, Jari.)
Firstly, apologies to Rachael Murray, who I honestly thought would never read this blog: at least it shows I'm thinking about you (more than what's his face at any rate- you know, the one with the hair). I imagine I'm banned from any Bedlam parties this year. Boo hoo.
Secondly, what have I actually been doing? Well, dear reader(s?), I've really only done one or two uniquely Australian things in the past few weeks. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've been having a ball, but in mostly very conventional ways (cinema trips, coffees with friends, toffees with enemies, banoffees with frenemies): however, I did accompany Jersey Shore (AKA Neato Duh AKA Jason) to the Victorian Parliament House for a tour that was nowhere near as lame as I was expecting. The building really is rather spectacular, with something ridiculous like $6 million worth of gold leaf on the walls, and is mercifully air conditioned: did you know that the Victorian Parliament still has a sergeant at arms present at all meetings in case someone tries to kill the speaker? They're armed with a golden mace: the current sergeant is a 5'1 woman, and honestly the mace is almost as tall as her. I'm not kidding. They also have brains in their street lamps, though they refuse to acknowledge this.
The other ozzie undertaking I undertook was to attend a pool party at one Milly Raso's. A pool party. In the middle of december. Try and get your head around that, ya bloody poms! It was very fun, cos we got to see Neato take his first dip into a pool. And I actually didn't try and submerge him at any point. I'm quite proud of myself for that.
Thirdly, I have been alluding to it throughout this post, and you've no doubt all been pondering on it, so I'll just go ahead and spit it out: it's bloody boiling. Christ on a bike, but it is hot. And it's gonna be hot for a long time to come. I now know why slow-cooking turkeys don't just up and out the oven: it's too friggin' hot to move. Like, seriously. It just saps your energy. I mean, I saw a flash mob the other day and I honestly woulda joined, if not for the forty degree heat. I left them to their sweaty fun and chilled in a lord of the fries (it gets mention on this blog just cos I love the name).
This heat has allowed for some relevations: a) it is fucking amazing that Australians are so unilaterally pale, b) air conditioning should not be a privilege but a RIGHT, protected by Geneva and all and c) Ozzie bartenders cannot prepare pimms to save their lives. One actually tried to serve it to me straight, no lemonade or nothing. I put her in her place. My antipodean pals have naturally never heard of Pimms, and think me a silly beggar for drinking it when there are perfectly good stubbies to be had, but they can suck a lemon. After they've put it in my pimms, which is served with lemonade, ya daftie.
There is more to tell, and I will do so in part 2, expected some time this evening. I will also post some time tomorrow on the advancements made by Blank Slate theatre, which I know you're all salivating to hear, and there is a video which I just can't wait to show you. Well, evidently I can wait, because I am. But, yes, fun times ahead. Get excited.
And Daniel, stop declaring me dead, please. It's frustrating.
But then why have I not been updating?!, you cry, because you're easily excitable; the answer is simple: I was saving it for a christmas present. I was gonna tell you all the exciting things I've been doing this holiday on christmas day itself, thereby rendering that day of days even extra specialer. But you all moaned and whined and lamented and whinged and cried and sneezed and wailed and shrieked and screamed and shouted (Jari was especially bad) that, like that new parent who just wants their infant to shut its freaking face, I'm letting you have your christmas presents early. Lucky you. (especially you, Jari.)
Firstly, apologies to Rachael Murray, who I honestly thought would never read this blog: at least it shows I'm thinking about you (more than what's his face at any rate- you know, the one with the hair). I imagine I'm banned from any Bedlam parties this year. Boo hoo.
Secondly, what have I actually been doing? Well, dear reader(s?), I've really only done one or two uniquely Australian things in the past few weeks. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've been having a ball, but in mostly very conventional ways (cinema trips, coffees with friends, toffees with enemies, banoffees with frenemies): however, I did accompany Jersey Shore (AKA Neato Duh AKA Jason) to the Victorian Parliament House for a tour that was nowhere near as lame as I was expecting. The building really is rather spectacular, with something ridiculous like $6 million worth of gold leaf on the walls, and is mercifully air conditioned: did you know that the Victorian Parliament still has a sergeant at arms present at all meetings in case someone tries to kill the speaker? They're armed with a golden mace: the current sergeant is a 5'1 woman, and honestly the mace is almost as tall as her. I'm not kidding. They also have brains in their street lamps, though they refuse to acknowledge this.
The other ozzie undertaking I undertook was to attend a pool party at one Milly Raso's. A pool party. In the middle of december. Try and get your head around that, ya bloody poms! It was very fun, cos we got to see Neato take his first dip into a pool. And I actually didn't try and submerge him at any point. I'm quite proud of myself for that.
Thirdly, I have been alluding to it throughout this post, and you've no doubt all been pondering on it, so I'll just go ahead and spit it out: it's bloody boiling. Christ on a bike, but it is hot. And it's gonna be hot for a long time to come. I now know why slow-cooking turkeys don't just up and out the oven: it's too friggin' hot to move. Like, seriously. It just saps your energy. I mean, I saw a flash mob the other day and I honestly woulda joined, if not for the forty degree heat. I left them to their sweaty fun and chilled in a lord of the fries (it gets mention on this blog just cos I love the name).
This heat has allowed for some relevations: a) it is fucking amazing that Australians are so unilaterally pale, b) air conditioning should not be a privilege but a RIGHT, protected by Geneva and all and c) Ozzie bartenders cannot prepare pimms to save their lives. One actually tried to serve it to me straight, no lemonade or nothing. I put her in her place. My antipodean pals have naturally never heard of Pimms, and think me a silly beggar for drinking it when there are perfectly good stubbies to be had, but they can suck a lemon. After they've put it in my pimms, which is served with lemonade, ya daftie.
There is more to tell, and I will do so in part 2, expected some time this evening. I will also post some time tomorrow on the advancements made by Blank Slate theatre, which I know you're all salivating to hear, and there is a video which I just can't wait to show you. Well, evidently I can wait, because I am. But, yes, fun times ahead. Get excited.
And Daniel, stop declaring me dead, please. It's frustrating.
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