Darkness Pulls Itself Over The Night Like A Warm Blanket

I think of you.

Long-time fans will recognize that as an extract from one of my poems, and right now it couldn't be a more fitting metaphor. I'm exhausted tonight. So much has happened in such a short time and keeping the smile cranked up to the 'crowd-pleaser' setting takes its toll.

Right now it's settled onto 'content' - not to be confused with 'contempt' - and I'm taking stock of things.

Thing one - I have a very busy acting schedule. The eccos of Panto (ahoy there, boys and girls!) are still ringing in my ears and yet now I must focus fully on LonDram's February debut. And the little one-off films I'm doing here and there, but mainly LonDram. No sooner will I finish that, but I'll be on set for filming series one of Kill Day, a web series in which I have a (not unreasonably sized) part. And then the slate is a bit blank. I'm almost thankful for that at the moment though. March and April have commitments of their own to uphold.

Thing two - work. I'm bored again. Don't get me wrong, the call centre is ten times better than fundraising, but I want ten times better than that. A hundred times better than fundraising, and then some. Which is why, by the time I publish this, I will have received an email from the London Eye telling me whether they've invited me back for induction and training after a 2-stage interview process this week. Fingers crossed, find out at the end.

Thing three - my role in Kill Day requires me to be a soldier. I'll not say more for the sake of spoiling the plot, but needless to say a soldier generally needs to be, well, physically active. So I've got a month to get myself looking more front-line than back-bench. To that end, I encourage everyone to send me various forms of electronic communication to force me to do some sort of physical exercise. Be it sit-ups, step-training, swimming, whatever. Just no press-ups or jogging. I don't have the shoes to jog and my shoulder is acting up badly at the moment.

***

Update: I didn't get the London Eye job, which I'm pretty gutted about, but consoling myself with the knowledge that it obviously wasn't meant to be. They've got more jobs going, and you can bet my application will be in the pile somewhere.

I've also started doing daily sit-ups. Currently ranging from 20-50 per day over the past week. My previously forgotten muscles ache.

Blogs And Why To Write Them

I was going to entitle this 'and how to write them', but I thought that would seem a little too vain.

Now before you ask, yes - this is London related. But yes, I have another blog it would be a more suitable a post for, but I have a very specific system with that blog, and the next post needs to be a story update. And I can't think of one. So here's my heavily London-based blog post about blog posts!

I'm writing this for two reasons:

1. Mrs. Dindorf's classes at Leipzig International School. They're studying writing styles, and apparently 'blog' is a style of writing. Fascinating! What's more, they've been looking at this very blog as an example! This should be a treat for you lot, then. I'm taking the whole teaching element out of my mother's hands and presenting it to you in a fun, easy-to-read format. Granted, if I remember my mother (which I do) this is how many of her classes are presented anyway, so you can begin to see the family resemblance.
2. Jake Hamish Frinkman Harvey Clive Rundle III, Esq. Because although that may not be his real name, he needs some convincing on how useful blogging can be.

So, with the recent extinction of the ado (*ba dum, tsh*), let us begin.

What is a blog?

This is. Duh.

Why should I write one?

A good question, perhaps you should spend some time thinking about it. Write down any thoughts you come across during this process. In fact, write them somewhere public, somewhere where you'll never lose them and where you can share them with people at will.

But what would I write about?

Did you completely skip the last question? Go back and read it again. Then skip this question.

No, seriously, what goes into a blog?

Whatever you want. Or don't want. Most often a mixture of both. I have a simple mindset when I blog: expect everyone in the world to read it. Of course, in reality very few people will read your blog, and that's fine because the people who do read it want to do so. The most important rule, though, is don't ever assume something isn't worth reading. No matter how mundane the subject, you know you can make it sound freaking epic.

It's a good idea to have a theme for a blog, be it poetry, trying to organize otherwise random thoughts, murder and deduction, or baking, a blog can be about anything you have to say. Even if you have nothing to say. Write snippets. Jot down ideas. Come back in a year and read them over, add to them, and abandon them again - websites are a lot harder to lose than a piece of paper.

Fine, you've made your point. How do I start?

The all important realization that I'm right question. I recommend this. Blogger. It's simple, straightforward and run by Google so if you've already got Gmail then you've got a Blogger account. The design tools mean you can pick from a pre-determined selection of images (such as the one you're looking at now) or upload your own. The writing and editing section is the same as writing on Word, but makes doing things like THIS a lot simpler. You'll have already clicked on the various links I've been plugging, inserted just as easily with a couple of button-clicks, you get the idea.

That's more or less all I can think to say on the matter. If you have any questions, leave them in the comments and I'll do my best to reply one way or another.

Best of luck with your own blogs, minions!

On The Road Again. Later.

I know it's been a while since my last blog, and you're all dying to know how Christmas and New Year were, but that will have to wait for now.

Because something happened today. Something that affected me so much that I haven't been so happy in such a long time that I had to blog about it.

I had an audition.

Well of course that's not all, I have auditions every couple of weeks. This was a special audition. An audition for paid acting work with a national TIE touring company. But not only that, a closed audition.

For those that are confused as to the significance of this: an open audition is what you may have seen when Star Wars was looking for the Skywalker Jouniors. Crowds of people, instant dismissal, dreams don't even have chance to form before they're crushed, basically anyone can turn up and have their few seconds of supposed fame. A closed audition means a casting director invites you to meet them and participate, their are a limited number of places available, and if you're lucky you'll get the last one. Which is what happened to me.

I got a voicemail message while I was at work on Thursday. I called on Friday morning but she wasn't in her office. I left my number and a few seconds later I got a call back asking if I wad interested in coming to their London audition. I don't think I could have sounded more keen. Just after 9 this morning I was leaving my house, with an idea for a song in my head (part of the audition) and a bag full of other scripts on my back (I'm busy at the moment).

I found the venue (a dance and music centre) easily enough and was immediately glad to be there. No idea why, it just felt nice. Old building with that performing-arts-until-I'm-demolished feel. After initial introductions we were given two lists of short character speeches, and instructed to choose one from each list to perform for everyone. After embarrassing myself by mishearing someone else's name as my own somewhere in the middle of the group, my name was called (ironically last) and I got up.

And that's when it happened.

I'd decided my first speech would be The Mad Hatter explaining the concept of The Unbirthday, a short and simple speech which a couple of people had done before me. I had been sitting there trying to choose a voice, thinking about who to use from the 'audience', and looking at the lines. Then as soon as I got up I felt a strage sensation of what I can only describe as confidence, and I started to speak.

I cannot tell you what voice I used to perform in, nor the speech I gave, because I didn't look at the script once and the voice was not one I had thought about, but I did enough to earn smiles and applause afterwards. I moved on to my second speech (Gandalf) which was much more according to my previous plans (measured, deep voice, etc) and then sang the first half of Be Prepared which went swimmingly apart from my throat catching - luckily between notes, and as it was unaccompanied it was just a dramatic pause before the crescendo to my audience.

After that ordeal, we got the full explanation of the company and the job, what would be expected of us and what we could expect in return, and then individual interviews. Marie, who was in charge of the whole thing, took me up for my private interview and we chatted about my previous school work, theatre work, and availability. Unfortunately with my current commitments I wouldn't be able to start the tours, according to their plans, in February and because I don't have a full driver's license I wasn't eligible to do a tour starting in March who needed an extra driver. Marie seemed saddened by this, which in the acting world is usually a good sign, so I asked about dates for winter tours (Pantomime). Apparently they can run from as early as September all the way to February. I asked when I could register interest in that, and was told if I emailed her on Monday - after I'd thought about the commitments - along with everyone else for the summer tours, she'd keep me informed. Auditions begin in May but she dismissed my idea of auditioning again, "Oh no, I don't think there's any need for that." She said with a small smile. Another good sign for those of you unfamiliar to acting nuances.

So I got two very interesting points from today:

1. If there was ever any doubt that acting was a career I wanted to pursue, it is gone. Acting is organic to me. I don't even have to think about what I'm doing and people like me enough to laugh, applaud, and offer me work.

2. I have an offer of future work with a well-known and very successful touring TIE company. The excitment of this prospect is difficult to contain.

Now I just have to entertain myself until September, and hopefully find a job which won't mind my vanishing for the winter period.

Facebook Just Isn't Big Enough

I have too many things I want people to see. Frankly, by the time I had finished re-posting, sharing, status updating and liking things today, everything had pushed its way off my wall. How are people supposed to hear of all the cool shit I'm doing if it isn't on my facebook page?!

Oh right, I have a blog.

Ha! Look at all this space! I can fill it with whatever I like! Wonderful! Right, lets begin by back-tracking a week or so. The day was Friday, morning, the twenty-second of November. In a small café just off of Brick Lane in London, three people met and exchanged pleasantries. I was one of those people. Another was Elliot C. Mason, and the third (who arrived last, and late) was Anna Alfieri. We were to perform that evening, having met a mere nine days prior. We had been rehearsing since then, ever changing the script, the actions, the mood, the very heart of the play, until we were ready. Actually, that's a lie. We were never ready, and we never would be if we performed it a hundred times, but damned if we didn't give it everything we had. And our small audience loved it. Special thanks, before I forget, must be given to Alex, who arrived with us at four o'clock and performed a live and haunting soundtrack for us a few hours later. All in all, a success, I made enough money from it to fund my early hours taxi in York (I jumped on a train as soon as the performance was over and I'd had a half-hour search for my bag) and I've been told that we may be performing again in the future. In a theatre, no less! Fear not, loyal readers, details shall be made available as and when I have them.

So, after that I had a weekend in York, including The Day of The Doctor (excellent.) and then sidled on back to London. Had a BBC audition this weekend. Not as exciting as it sounds, see my previous post about the Star Wars auditions and you'll get the drift (this time I didn't need a headshot!) and so on to more actually happening things.

Pantomime rehearsals are in full swing with much laughter, singing, innuendo and abuse unbounded! We perform at the end of January and if anyone fancies coming to see me in my theatrical element, ticket purchasing details can be found here! What do you mean it doesn't look fancy enough? Go make your own panto if you're so high and mighty. We don't need you here. Muswell Hill has a dedicated group of panto enthusiasts. Honestly, some people...



Fine if that isn't high quality enough for you, how about this!
  

Bet that got your attention, and who's that at 0:48 and 1:07? Well at 0:48 there's a stunning shot of Guy Barnes, and some prat with guns, and at 1:07, that's my cousin Xavier. You do get a good shot of my hair at 2:47 though.

Think that's exciting in its own right? Well then prepare to have your mind blown so far out of your head that your ears will actually be able to see each other. YOU can be a part of it. Just click here and throw us some cash (doesn't have to be much. £5 would do nicely.) and you can see YOUR NAME in the credits of this sure-to-be-blockbuster film. I think that's all I need say for now.

Until next time, loving readers, you have my undying admiration for sticking with me for so long. Peace!

Gay Flu

Don't take offence, I just can't resist puns sometimes. The title is in reference to Flu Camp (get it?) which I heard about only today - not surprising since I've only been in London for a matter of months - but I heard about it from two completely unrelated people in two absolutely different environments.

So what is it? Well I'll stick a link here, but if you just want my take on it, then as follows:

Hey You!

Yes, YOU!

You look cash-strapped, young, and willing to do more or less anything for a quick buck? How about if we told you that you could PLAY VIDEO GAMES all day and still be earning money, and nobody would tell you not to! You wouldn't even HAVE to play the games, its OPTIONAL! All you have to do is get sick for a couple of weeks! Easy as that!

So that's my understanding of it. Sort of. Actually I know a lot more than that cause I read the entire website meticulously, so here's an honest understanding of what they're asking and offering.

Its medical research into respiratory viruses, such as cold and flu. If you pass their health screening, you're invited to partake in their studies. Because of the nature of the viruses, all participants are quarantined, but not in the classing 90's big tent and radiation suit kind of way (well, actually, from what I've heard everyone who comes in is dressed like an astronaut, but that's understandable), more in the here's a studio living space fully equipped with WiFi, flatscreen TV, choice of video games consoles (and games) and DVDs, you also get three square meals a day (more on that in a second) and all you have to do is allow us to give you the flu. Oh and you could be compensated with up to £3,750.

Hold on a second what was that last bit? £3,750? For 10 - 14 days in what is essentially a man-den? And all I have to do is get the snuffles? Where do I sign up?! (Funny you should ask, just click the aforementioned link!)

And I did say I would expand more on the food thing, amusingly in the testimonials section of the website, this is the second one down:

Plenty of food, variety and good choices.JOSHUA, AGED 21, LONDON

This is number 4:

The food had wide variety and good quality. Staff made time more relaxed and fun – very kind and caring.ALICE, AGED 22, BRIGHTON

And a few comments later:

Best food so far on any study. Thanks for a very enjoyable and comfortable time. Will recommend to all my friends

MICHAEL, AGED 28, LONDON 

Who do they have cooking for them? I must taste these delicate dishes which seem to have amassed their own fame, rivalling the medical staff!

On a serious note, I've had the flu once before. I think it was last year. Honestly I was so utterly delirious for about 3 days I can't even remember when they happened. So having experienced how my body handles it, and being offered almost £4000 to go through that again, I would be absolutely overjoyed to make a contribution to science. Lets put this in perspective. £3,750 could pay my rent for 9 months*. And still leave me with change. It could pay my average tube travel for the next 5 years**. Hell I could actually live comfortably on that kind of money for the next four and a half months, including all my expenses. It is almost enough to be life-changing for someone in my situation.

So there's only one question left, really. Who's going to camp this year?

*Based on my rent payments of £410pcm.
**Based on the daily Oyster PayG Zone 1-3 Off-peak travel cap of £5.10.

Plays, Pantos and Petticoats

Don't get your hopes up. There are no petticoats. I just needed an alliterate triplet.

What there are is lots of stuff going on. First, a short play by Elliot C. Mason. Elliot, a published author, traveller and hater of almost everything (my words, not his) decided to write a play about love. How very cliché, you say? That love, in all of its delightful and pessimistic lights, has already been bled dry of verse? That no original ideas could possibly be voiced on the subject?

Well you're probably right, but come back to me when you've read all of those ideas and cannot possibly contemplate any more, so I can hit you for ruining your own imagination.

For All That Matters (the title of said play) is a story of lust, desire, and social stereotypes. It combines wisdom and poetry subtly but makes it garishly obvious that you should be paying attention to what you're viewing. Would I recommend seeing it? Absolutely. Is that opinion biased? Who cares, it's only on for one night. Unless the response is good enough to have a continued run, in which case you may be able to see it another time, but for certain if you do not come and see it this time we will not be offered any more chances. So if you want to see it later on, come see it on Friday and give yourself the opportunity to see it again. Go on, be a little bit selfish, nobody will hold it against you.

And after that, please dim the lights,

Strike up the drumroll,

File into your seats,

Hold tight.

The Muswell Hill Pantomime is here! coming soon! in January!

What do you mean you're not excited? I can see the child inside you screaming with delight! Come witness the tale of fair Dick Whit, and his trusted cat.. Dave? Michelle? No idea.. Let's just call it Cat. Gasp as Dick and Cat engage in perilous sword fights! Swoon as true love makes Dick all soft! Boo as the villain hatches evil plans! And sigh with relief when it's all over.

Rehearsals are going well, and by Jove I've actually managed to get there on time recently! There is hope after all! So if you're around the north London area (more north than that. A little further. Left a bit. Yep, that's the spot.) come the end of January, then be sure to drop in, give us a wave, and you may even get a laugh or two out of it. Tally, bally ho!

Star Wars VII: The Boredom Of The Damned

I promised you a blog about the Manchester Star Wars auditions, I present you with my experience at the Manchester Star Wars auditions:

Sam and I arrived in Manchester around 9 o'clock in the morning (I had not slept, aside from a brief nap on the train) and began our 10-minute walk to where we thought the auditions were being held. Unfortunately neither of us had thought to check for updates, and so when we reached the small church hall we'd been looking for, the only sign of auditions were papers plastered all over it pointing us to the Old Trafford cricket ground, an hour's walk away. We were about to call a taxi when a fellow auditionee spotted us and offered us a lift, saving us what would surely have been a small fortune in taxi fares.

As I gave directions we discussed what we thought the scene might be like. Sam pointed out that we would probably see the people before we saw the actual destination, and how right he was. As we pulled up to the ground a crowd emerged. We grew ever nearer, and the crowd morphed into a line, a sprawling python wrapping its way along the pavement and walls surrounding the sports ground. We swore. The line had to be half a mile long, and we were heading straight for the back of it. Our chauffeur decided that it wasn't worth his time, and dropped us off wishing us the best of luck.

Sam and I joined the queue, which had grown even in the time it had taken to traverse the length of it, and began our wait. Jovial and merry as we are known to be, we talked loudly and smiled broadly, until a thought struck me. I hadn't brought a headshot. The one thing the vague casting call had requested was missing from my person. Well fuck, this was all for nothing then. Sam suggested I could always try without one but I knew this would never work. Still, we were here for the experience, not to actually get a part, right? Why not, and with this in mind we began calling people we thought might also be in the city for the same reason as us. We quickly found that a group of friends were not only also in the same line as us, but very close to the front. We made the decision to join them, as controversial as that is. We split from the great mess that was the rear of the line, and jogged our way forwards. Soon enough we could see our fellow compadrés and rushed too them, panting and thanking them profusely for holding our place in the line, explaining that traffic had been terrible and hoping the people around them wouldn't notice or care. I still didn't have a headshot, but being with friends was worth the train journeys and the weather.

As they filed through the gate I waited outside, and went wondering round Trafford. There isn't much in Trafford. Scratch that, there's nothing in Trafford save for the sports stadiums and a shopping park. The park, however, had a KFC, so I was briefly content to sit in there and eat chicken. Boredom quickly set in again though, so I set off back to the site where I had left my comrades to wait it out in the cold. By the time I got back the once mighty python of a line was now barely a worm crawling its way towards the gate, and it wasn't long before any trace of a queue vanished all together.

I ate a couple of oranges. Eventually, and slowly, people I knew began to emerge. They hadn't been selected for an interview but the process had still taken hours, and it ended up being hours more before the few who had been interviewed were released. Altogether a nice, if uneventful day. Sam and I discussed business plans over yet more KFC before parting ways to get our respective trains home again.

And so that is the story of how I did not audition for Star Wars. Tune in next week when I fail to even apply for Guardians of the Galaxy!