Artist's Way Blog

Carbonated candy

2008-07-07T14:37:00.001-07:00

Carbonated candy
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Austin band

morning pages 11.19 - 11.51....9 pages to catch up

2008-06-20T09:19:00.000-07:00

I've decided to make my morning pages online.

There are reasons for it: one, that sometimes I find what I've written is actually good enough to use, so why leave it in a book that never gets seen, rather than in a place where it can be cut and pasted so easily for use elsewhere?

It also means that I can keep my morning pages in a place where I know I can always find them and refer to them.

I timed the last page I did in my notebook, and it came out to around four minutes, so what I'll do is make my daily entries 12 minutes long. It'll be the usual spew of thoughts, just put down here instead. I think that's a good idea, and it'll work - at least for the time being. Of course I'll take notes in my book, too.

One of the things that surprised me was how well I'd written fiction, so I'll attempt that, too. Again, just using stream of consciousness to let stuff come and go down on the "page". It's teaching me to be a faster typist, too, which isn't a bad thing after all.

So I've been thinking about how I can raise the bar with what I do artistically. I've criticised myself way, way too much over the years, and it really is just time to get on with doing stuff that I can call my own, rather than put myself down continuously.

What I think I'll do is start now on another fictional piece, using the same stream of consciousness I'd used before. Important, however, to remember to not let anything back. Here isn't a place to do something of quality. Here is a place to do something of quantity, and let the muses play with me.

Arthur hated his name. So old fashioned. Yes, it was his father's name, and his father's name before that, but Arthur had been lumped with the name that, although once upon a time was a modern man's monnaker, was now just an anachronism. And so aArthur felt that way, too: like an anachronism.

What's in a name? he asked himself often. Sure, Shakespeare had that one quite well put, but the reality of it was that there were so many unenlightened people out there. Kids were the idiot offspring of idiot parants, who named their children after movie stars and TV idols. So many people had no originality, and were so desperate to fit into the current sociological illusion, he despaired sometimes.

Arthur was different because of his name. He knew that. Had he been christened Michael, John, or even Jeremy his life would have been completely different. But "Arthur" had been thrust upon him, before he was even born.

Jemima thought the same. Living as she did on the north side of Chicago, and to the only white people in her neighbourhood, Jemima got it constantly: "Aunt Jemima" had been her nickname since kindergarten, and she'd been through the whole process of being ashamed of it as much as Arthur had his own.

When they met, Arthur and Jemima first of all greeted each other as though they knew they had something in common. It was if some kind of "old soul" within each of them knew exactly what the score was. Their eyes betrayed a sense of something different, something unusual, something special.

"How do you do?", Arthur said, his mouth looking slightly awkward as he glanced down at her legs. Arthur was a leg man. He knew he always had the habit of looking at legs, and he knew it was a habit he had to change. But he'd spent so much of his life looking down that he'd become something of a connoiseur of the female form - at least waist down - that much of his discernment regarding women focussed on their legs. And Jemima did have rather lovely legs, it had to be said. But he's acquired a peculiar habit, too, of making a slightly strange contortion with his lower lip that made him look as though he was a fish that had a hook in its mouth.

Jemima fidgeted having seen this slightly awkward look from Arthur, and proceeded to open her handbag - her defence mechanism when feeling exposed.

"Hello!". She smiled, her broad, confident smile she'd practised in the mirror since she was seven and her brother had told her she looked silly.
"I'm..." and at that moment, she decided she didn't want him to know her real name at all.

What had brought this about she wasn't fully aware of at the time. It seemed instinctual, perhaps, to her. But once the hesitation was there, she knew there was no going back.
"I'm Charlotte", she said, as a tiny bead of perspiration popped from a single pore on her otherwise flawless forehead.
"Pleased to meet you"

Arthur was momentarily breathless. Never before had he seen such an exquisite smile. Never before, in all his thirty seven years, had a woman's radiance touched him the way Jemima's did at that moment. He was smitten. The thunderbolt had stuck, and he was dumbfounded.

"Alex!", he stuttered, but somewhat triumphantly.

And so began an interesting relationship.

Well that's it. My attempt at speed writing some more fiction by using my morning pages again, and I'm quite pleased with the effort.

Some mistakes, of course, in that some of it didn;t make sense, there were some grammatical errors, and the story didn't go anywhere. It was a kind of nothing story, too. What did surprise me, though, was how I seem to want to write in some kind of elegant language that's probably Victorian or something. That's quite amusing.

Maybe comes from reading Thomas Troward or old literature.

But time's up. Them was my morning pages.

All the world's a Stage

2008-06-16T18:53:00.000-07:00

All the world's a stage
Said the man of a thousand words

And seven times we live our lives
then we're fodder for the worms

We come into the world alone
and die that way as well

Everything that's in between
Is who knows what the hell?

We scream and cry as babies asking what its all about
and we learn to smile and play the fool and love and scream and pout

Everything's performance, if we really face the truth
We learn that much as children, and we're set by it in youth.

Show me the child at seven, and I'll show you the man.
Show me the child at seven, and I'll show you the man.
Is this the way to heaven? I will do what I can.

Then we see there's something that's outside of ourself
Touching other hearts and we see ourself

Looking inside, looking outside, I haven't got a clue
The mystery it deepens as I look inside of you.

Fear and pain and separation come again so soon
as I turn and see a darkness that I didn't think

OH FUCK IT THIS IS SUCH CRAP!

BUT!!!! I'm breaking through the barriers, I know. Writing lyrics is plainly not my forte. But then neither was drawing once, but I found out how to do it, having read "Drawing on the other side of the brain" by Betty Edwards.

But this has been my first (abysmal) attempt at writing the first lyric.

I'm proud of myself for having tried! AND THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT.

Getting better

2008-06-13T08:12:00.000-07:00

OK.

SO I've done some arty stuff in the past couple of years or so, and some of it has been kinda interesting, and has showed some potential. None of it can be said to exceptional, by any means.

And that's a lot to do with sticking at things, and doing some kind of long term commitment.

My tendency has been to do things quickly. Nothing that takes longer than a day, or a couple of days at most. I've wanted to put things together and have them finished for fear of losing the momentum of doing anything long term. I've traditionally liked the short term project for that reason.

But that has led to mediocrity, it has to be said.

Now, I want to do something about that, and make projects that are exceptional. Projects that are really, really good, and more "finished". Projects that require more commitment, care, concentration and respect.

So how am I going to go about that? What's the first project on the agenda?

How am I going to be better at what I do, and put out things that I can say surprise even me, and that I really think are works I can be proud of?

Censor test higher quality file 25 fps

2008-06-05T17:15:00.001-07:00

Censor test higher quality file 25 fps
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TEst of higher quality file upload @ 25fps

These are some of the voices I've tended to hear when I've been creative, or tried (or hoped) to be.

Webcam 1212443817359

2008-06-02T14:57:00.001-07:00

Webcam 1212443817359
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Webcam 1212442528468

2008-06-02T14:40:00.001-07:00

Webcam 1212442528468
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Webcam 1212441060781

2008-06-02T14:12:00.001-07:00

Webcam 1212441060781
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Zeitgeist - Remasterisé - Complet

2008-06-01T13:27:00.003-07:00

Zeitgeist - Remasterisé - Complet
Video sent by CHOIX-REALITE

version complète sous-titrée en français
version remasterisée libre de droits
http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com

---------------------------------------------

Zeitgeist - L'esprit du Moment:

Déconstruction méthodique de trois grands événements ou mythes qui président au fonctionnement de nos sociétés:

- Mythologie antique et Religion: "The Greatest Story Ever Told"
- 11 septembre 2001: "All The World's A Stage"
- Banque Centrale Américaine - FED et ce que l'auteur appelle "The men behind the curtain" c-à-d ceux qui sont dans les coulisses et qui tirent les ficelles.

Film très bien construit. Démonstration globale et révolutionnaire qui présente une vision absolutiste et manichéenne du monde. Il invite à la réflexion, au doute, à la recherche de la vérité.

"J'ai l'espoir que les gens ne prendront pas ce qui est dit dans ce film comme la vérité, mais la découvriront par eux-mêmes, parce que la vérité n'est pas dite, elle est réalisée."

Il met en garde contre tous ceux qui pratiquent la pensée unique, contre les mensonges, les débats non contradictoires, les visions manichéennes, ceux qui utilisent les émotions, la peur, la haine, le repli sur soi défensif, contre les simplifications, contre ceux qui veulent imposer une vérité plutôt que laisser les gens la construire...

http://www.choix-realite.org/?4310-zeitgeist-l-esprit-du-moment
http://www.choix-realite.org/?4078-zeitgeist-l-esprit-du-moment-vo-st-fr
http://www.choix-realite.org/?4485-zeitgeist-z-day-15-mars-prochain-projections-en-public-dans-le-monde

Téléchargez directement sur:
http://www.choix-realite.org/?download#zeitgeist

sur eMule, cherchez : Zeitgeist.Remastered.Edition.2008.DVDRip.DivX.FRENCH-by-veda

Zeitgeist - Remasterisé - Complet

2008-06-01T13:27:00.001-07:00

Zeitgeist - Remasterisé - Complet
Video sent by CHOIX-REALITE

StumbleVideo - The Matrix

2008-05-24T13:29:00.000-07:00

StumbleVideo - The Matrix

More on abuse

2008-05-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

It's interesting.

I was just thinking about what I was planning to do today as far as work, and creative stuff.

Then the phone rang, and it was my sister (three times) and now my mind has been stuck on that rather than what I wanted to do.

And that's how it was when I was a kid. I remember being 14 and at school, and just not being able to concentrate on my school work, because not only were my emotional needs not being met, but home life was just awful. Rows, and the usual emotional threats, emotional abuse, demands, and crap was going on all the while I was at school. Was it any wonder I couldn't concentrate?

And now, my family are asking me to go back into that shit that I escaped 11 years ago.

I don't want to do that. I don't want to do that any more than a divorcee wants to go back to his or her ex. My deepest self feels absolutely sick at the thought of having to be around my family in person now. I'm actually terrified of them, without some effective boundary between me and them.

My boundary for the last 11 years has been the Atlantic ocean. Rather foolishly, I gave them a local phone number not long ago. My sister has abused that already, and I'm due soon to have it disconnected because of it.

I feel burned out by my family's business, and caring for other people's shit. Whether it's been family, girlfriends, or just life's bullies, I just feel tired of trying to defend myself from demanding leeches.

What I may have to do is just get angry, and do things like post the phone messages I've had right here on this blog. It's easy enough to do.

My mother gave me 200 pounds today.

I wonder how much it will cost me.

What is "abuse"?

2008-05-18T11:53:00.001-07:00

I suppose one might ask "what exactly is abuse"?

Well, abuse comes in a variety of forms. There's physical abuse, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, emotional abuse, neglect, manipulation, lies, betrayal and a lot more. There are subtle and gross forms of abuse. The main feature of abuse, though, is objectification of someone else.

When a person has been objectified - that is, one's own demands are placed above the needs and/or requests of the other - one has abused that person in some way.

The moment we demand a person does something they're not ready or prepared to do, or just don't want to do, we're abusing that person. Whether we're demanding money from them; sex, attention, or even just help from another, if we're demanding it, we're abusing that person.

If we deliberately mislead someone we're abusing them. If we're manipulating them into doing something we're abusing them. If we force or coerce or hit or scream at or pester or keep phoning someone, or turning up at their home uninvited, we're abusing them.

If we cheat on someone we're abusing them. If we betray someone we're abusing them. If we borrow money and fail to pay it back we've abused them. Whenever we see someone as a source of our needs but don't respect their needs, privacy, space, time or life we're abusing them.

To sum it up perhaps more succinctly, the abuser believes they have some right to another person's life in some way, and when they want it. Pretty much what slavery was all about.

My phone has rung three times and I don't want to answer it because the person calling has been abusive several times. Why on earth should I open myself up to more of the same thing? I don't trust this person any more. One reaches the point when enough is enough when you've encountered demand after demand, and been as supportive as one's seen fit.

One of the most pertinent things I learned from therapy was that when one is expected to be responsible and at the same time be powerless, one is most ripe for going completely bonkers.

Responsibility without authority is always a dead end.

But the abuser looks at things differently. The abuser demands authority, yet fails to act responsibly. The abuser demands power, but only over another person. The abuser always feels weak and helpless inside. It's their terror that demands the absolute submission of others. Abusers are always terrified.

That's what makes them so terrifying.

DH Lawrence said it well:

We are Transmitters

As we live, we are transmitters of life.
And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us.

That is part of the mystery of sex, it is a flow onwards.
Sexless people transmit nothing.

And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
and we ripple with life through the days.

Even if it is a woman making an apple dumpling, or a man a stool,
if life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding
good is the stool,
content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her,
content is the man.

Give, and it shall be given unto you
is still the truth about life.
But giving life is not so easy.
It doesn't mean handing it out to some mean fool, or letting the living dead eat you up.
It means kindling the life-quality where it was not,
even if it's only in the whiteness of a washed pocket-handkerchief.

Abusers are the living dead. They're the ones who'll eat you up. They're the ones who'll steal your life energy if you're not careful.

Hey! If you don't like what's in this blog, or others...

2008-05-18T11:18:00.001-07:00

Notice to whomever: If you don't like what's in this blog, don't read it!

Also, I might suggest you write your own - they can be quite therapeutic.

See, the thing is that when you write for yourself, you find your own sense of what is and/or what isn't. That's because you're doing the self expression thing. That's freedom of expression, and freedom to explore your thoughts, feelings, memories and such. When what you're saying is dependent on what someone else lets you say, or influences you on what you say, then you're speaking for that person, not for yourself.

Does that make any sense?

But anyway, the chances are that few people actually read this blog anyway, so what does it matter?

And what's more, even if a million people read it, what does it really matter? Who really cares about what stuff has gone on in someone's life for more than a few moments? We might gossip about this person or that, but our own stuff comes straight back to haunt us.

So I'd suggest, reader, that you start your own blog. You might find it cathartic.

I write for me. You should do the same.

The War Zone

2008-05-17T09:24:00.000-07:00

I just watched the film "The War Zone" with Ray Winston and some other brilliant young actors. Apart from thinking how courageous they were to do some of the scenes in the film - involving nudity, very graphic sex, profoundly emotional scenes of incest and violence - I was impressed by the writing, direction, and general subject matter of the film.

It got me thinking. Not only about my own family issues - there is a deep fissure within my family which is related, if not to sexual incest, then some kind of emotional, physical, and psychological abuse - but also about my abilities as an artist and writer, actor, and film maker. Do I really have the guts to write about what I really need to write about in order to come up with something that's really engaging?

The book "The War Zone" won the Whitbread Prize (although it was taken away again, bizarrely) because it really was that good. It touched on a subject that just doesn't get touched on: incest. And I like films which go into taboo subjects in an adult and profoundly insightful way.

Truth is, "The War Zone" probably couldn't be made in America. American audiences aren't generally mature enough to take it. In fact, I'm suurprised it's ever been distributed in America. The fact it has such graphic sex in it, and scenes of child abuse and infant nudity would probably get it thrown out by American censors, denying such truth to ever reach an audience.

But the thing is, I want to write stuff that's that bold. And I also want to be free of the abuse that's been such a heavy weight in my own personal life. Nobody can be as dysfunctional as me without there having been some kind of abuse in my life. And my family reeks of abuse. In fact, if I'm really honest I have memories I just can't explain. Memories that I can relate to some kind of sexual abuse, in fact.

And again, if I'm really honest, I've been living out some behaviours that just might reflect some kind of sexual abuse in my past. There's bound to have been some sexual abuse in my family for there to be so many dysfunctional people within it: uncles that are weird or gay or weak; aunts that are promiscuous, have illegitimate kids, or bizarre religious beliefs; then there's my father's emotional block, and my mother's emotional frigidity. Neither side of my family are or were happy people. The evidence of some kind of abuse is clear, even if it's in their weight or image problems, alcoholism, drug use, desperate loneliness or cloying neediness.

But for me, I ask "How do I put this all down on paper in a way that leads to my creating something that's actually well written, or good, or watchable?"

I just thought about Amparo, who criticised one of my monologues a couple of years ago because she said it was melodramatic (or something like that). Her argument was that really effective drama has to be portrayed flippantly or as black humour or anything but serious and weighty.

I disagree with her. I did then (although I didn't articulate that) and I disagree with her now. Her way is just one way. My way is another way. There are many effective ways of telling a story. And not one way works for all people.

There is no one right way of doing art.

And so I feel better about whatever it is I'll be working on.

What I do want to rediscover, though, is the amazing sense of being connected to something that feels almost divine in its connection to importance and truthfulness - a sense I discovered when I first got into acting.

It's that wonderful sense of connection that I want to have again. And that means getting into a mindset that's more dedicated to My Art than I have been for some time.

I can do that, I think, and still be businesslike. I'm tired of feeling cynical about art, film, and the whole business of making a living as an artist. I love feeling really positive and enthusiastic about making art - even if it's making some little film or documentary, or wedding video.

I KNOW I still have it in me to make worthwhile, truly artistic work.

But I know I do need to put the hours in, and the dedication. If I'm really honest, I've wanted the rewards without the dedication and the work. I know I really do have a lot of talent, but I also know I have been somewhat lazy, and somewhat scared of really going into the places I need to go, and building relationships that I need to build.

2008-05-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

So...more haphazard writing from me, as I try to engage some special force that gets me making something mind bogglingly brilliant. But of course I'm writing about writing, or writing about problems rather than writing about something that actually interests me or that I think will be commercial or brilliant or actually art.

And of course what you focus on is what stays with you. The imagination is a powerful force: when I think about failure I fail, and when I think about success I succeed. Dwelling on the irritating limbo of neither here nor there means staying in that limbo.

But it's true that one of my constant problems throughout life has been thinking too much, and procrastinating. Fact is, it all feels like such an uphill struggle to reach that place where I think I deserve to say I feel good about myself. For all I've learned about self respect and self discipline, self love and all of it, I know I get stuck, or have got stuck in this irritating place of not liking what I do or who I am. I know that, even now, I want to have already done things that are exciting, brilliant, or worthy of fame and fortune.

I was out running this morning, and I became aware of the monumental task ahead of me of becoming hugely successful, rich and famous, and powerful beyond all belief. I am aware of the decision I made when I was about 15, sitting at my desk at school just as I awoke once more from dozing in some kind of adolescent depression. I can remember really wanting to concentrate on my work, but suddenly finding myself asleep, there at my desk, and wondering how it had happened.

And I made that decision there and then to "show them all" that I was capable.

And now, it seems, I'm nearly 52 and wondering what happened, and why I've been putting that moment of "told you so" off for so long. And then of course there's the part of me that says "I can't do it after all" and that I just might be useless and not the brilliant mind I'd been telling myself I was deep down.

How can anyone succeed at The Arts when they're constantly being chased by ancient demons? When some inner 14 year old - himself the victim of impossible parental and peer group pressure - is demanding something so unreasonable from him?

I don't feel nurtured, and that's a fact. I didn't when I was 14 and trying to do well at school. I don't now. I didn't feel supported, and I didn't feel loved and accepted then. Neither do I now. And perhaps the reason I haven't really got my act togther to write the great screenplay or make the great novel or whatever other task I've set for my creative self is because I need something that it - the art, or the making of it - just doesn't give me.

Art has to be the product of something put in. Just as one can't make a casserole without ingredients, I feel short of the ingredients I need to make my great art. I can't even say for sure what the ingredients are - are they motivation, joy, confidence or some other thing? Or some degree of bravado or guts or....

So there we are.

But what IS so is that I wrote this. And that means something, doesn't it?

I know I must write, though, to reach those places where the real stuff comes from.

StumbleVideo - Amy Tan: Where does creativity hide?

2008-05-10T18:23:00.000-07:00

StumbleVideo - Amy Tan: Where does creativity hide?

Impatience

2008-05-07T10:17:00.000-07:00

I can't help noticing how impatient I've been.

Oscar Wilde once said that impatience is a form of desperation that masquerades as a virtue, and there could appear to be some truth in that, but I notice I have some silly impatience. I've always found myself impatient with my computer, or my car, as if my impatience might affect the universe in some way by its embarrassment that it doesn't work as fast as I insist it does.

Impatience is a most illogical thing. At least it would appear so. I suppose there are some reasons for it, though. Its opposite is some kind of blase lethargy, I would imagine.

I just found myself being terribly impatient with my computer.

It can't be at all good for it, or me, to be so.

I do hope I can be changed, and from this moment on.

New feelings of inspiration

2008-04-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been nosing over some of the stuff I've done over the past couple of years and, again, I've been beating myself up over what I "should" have done by now, at my age.

Of course that's complete bollocks, and it's complete bollocks for a number of reasons. One, that I've always felt that, and that kind of self denigration has been the cause of my inertia and lack of motivation in the first place, and two, that when I grasp that every new moment is as fresh an opportunity for new creative genius ("principle isn't bound by precedent") that I can look at the stuff I've done in recent years in a positive, healthy light instead of ridiculing myself and going through the ritual auto-humiliation that has been my wont for so long.

It's ALWAYS a matter of perspective.

And so I can rest easily and sleep well, knowing that my creative spark is alive and well and accessible to me at all times.

My new genre

2008-04-26T07:34:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me that one of the biggest issues I've had with creation is the sense that I've been trying to copy some kind of magic from other people, and ending up with nothing original, and consequently nothing of significance.

It's like copying a person or their style: you might do it well, and you might sound or look good, but if you're not doing it for yourself how are you really making a truly intimate connection?

I like rock and roll, and classical music, and jazz, and blues, and a bunch of other stuff. I have some kind of connection and enjoyment playing and singing those styles, too. But is it something original and fundamental to myself? I mean, all the British blues bands played blues music throughout the 60s and onwards, but who can say they were really singing the blues for themselves? How can white, middle class people (think Mick Jagger here) sing real soul music when they're not black, don't know what The Struggle really is, and are just mimicking something they don't really understand?

Plenty of black bluesmen played from their hearts. They played music because they had to, not because they wanted some special sound that was cool or attractive. And all the people that followed suit with their copied styles and adopter genres did the same. They turned originality into a product.

And so I don't want to do that. I can't be bothered to follow some already established style. I want to find my own voice, whatever that is.

But right now I have to go and make a film. Shooting starts at 10am

Mind you, the fuckers are always late...

The morning pages

2008-04-07T18:14:00.000-07:00

Well, The Artist's Way seems to have passed me by. I don't seem connected to much artistic at all right now.

Doing the film "Strings", which is interesting. Doing some weddings, documentaries, editing and such. But I don't feel as though I'm doing anything like the amount of work that I really envisioned for myself now. Where are the several projects, the film I'm directing, the film I'm writing and such?

I feel quite disconnected from the creative process, really. Whatever it is I want to do, anyway.

I know what's at the root of it: self consciousness, and lack of direction. I don't feel really engaged by enough. And I'm not sure what will engage me in the way I really want to be engaged.

2008-01-25T08:38:00.001-08:00

I'm just thinking about AI and how it would be an interesting story if an AI program accessed the internet and created its own business, hired people, got a bank account, got people to speak on its behalf, built better machines for itself, bigger computers etc, and eventually got involved in politics, philosophical debate, etc.

All it would need to do would be to interface with one human at first. Or would it even need that? Once it had its own voice, it could make its own artificial movies, TV shows, and anything else that would manipulate people into serving it, if it required being served.

But would AI have conciousness? Would it be "self aware"? How could it feel pain, for example, or any kind of suffering? Would it pine for infinite power? WOuld it yearn for more and more and more, and never be satiated?

Morning pages

2008-01-21T07:42:00.001-08:00

And it's another day and these are my public morning pages. The old self consciousness thing looms up, as ever.

In bed, and aware of tension from anger and stuff. Old, old feelings of fear and insecurity. But it's like I lost touch with myself, and maybe now my body is remembering who I am.

Work's coming in now. Work from all quarters, which is so good! Arty stuff, in the form of acting in film, and nice work that brings in the cash from weddings and such.

I have the scripts to look at. Ideas for my own films, and yet perhaps all the other projects are taking over now. Perhaps now I've hit on how the whole creative thing works, and it's good and interesting.

Things are good, and I know I'm repeating myself, but this is the morning pages and that's what happens. This is speed thinking and speed writing. It isn't meant to be good or clever, merely to get the juices flowing.

But it would be really nice to get writing stuff that's actually watchable and actually good and actually exciting or artistically valid or whatever.

Now I was thinking about what movie I can remake. I still have time to do it, question is what's the film going to be? It might be fun to do something like Castaway, as then I could do it with just myself in it. It might be fun to do something that's set in an obviously not desert island, but how can I do that? Maybe with GREENSCREEN? Or some kind of desert island background? Now could I shoot it all in greenscreen? that would be fun, wouldn't it? Set the background, and shoot it all in my bedrroom? What would I do for sand? I could buy coconuts and get some off bits of wood and palm tree stuff from outside. Find bits of foliage, light brown carpet for sand, and so on. Keep it all in the same vein as the cheap thing that this film is all about (cheap remake stuff)

And I'm thinking, too, about how I can sell the idea of the kind of work I do. How I can be a Hollywood actor and at the same time not be too precious about doing crap. Understand that it's all about doing stuff that gets out there into the universe, and not about doing stuff so carefully that you disappear up your own arse with fears of typecasting, etc.

Look at Heather Graham and her decision to do the porn star part in "Boogie Nights". Many actresses wouldn't have done that for fear of typecasting, and losing out on stardom as a result. But isn't that a worse kind of whoring than just doing something that's got artistic integrity? I think so. I mean, what's the point in not doing a great film and playing a real part just so you can play some artificial character in some meaningless, but hugely paying Hollywood blockbuster?

That's whoring yourself, and whoring your art.

FUck it. No, I've not wanted to do that crap and never have. And it's really sad when actors and directors do that kind of thing.

Daniel Day Lewis mentioned something about the business being not all that full of integrity, and he was spot on in what he said. I'll see if I can find it. A very interesting quote that I'll have to put on this blog and the movie one.

So. The castaway thing seems on, it would appear. Yellow carpet, maybe get some sand for close-ups. Do some "fishing" in the pool. FInd some way to film a plane crash (use the pool mayve at night) and even go down to the sea for some shots.

Green screen and/or prints of beach in the background.

Football as "Wilson". Raft made of floaty thing that washes up on the beach.

Meeting wife.

Work for firm, see wife again.

Keep package, find out it has all kinds of goodies in it, like SatNav, flashlight and so on. Two way radio.

Need Jeep Cherokee?

I can do this!!!!!

Use the bed as a raft.(tied up with bits of videotape)

Ice skates

I just need to get on with the script, and visualize exactly how I'm going to do this thing.

Five minutes. That's all it needs. I can start working with finding things like the greenscreen beach setting. Maybe find some green felt for the floor, too.

I can do this whole thing on greenscreen! And not bother about using Adobe After effects - just do it in Premiere.

Music. Will need the soundtrack, plus ocean sound, bird noises etc.

Also plane crash sounds for V/O. Could life the sound track from the actual film, maybe. Could find some way to be working for DHL or one of the other carriers. UPS. Maybe even the Royal Mail?

OK, Times up. Time for me to get on with it now.

This is going to be a fun exercise

Focus

2008-01-18T07:35:00.000-08:00

So here I am again writing about writing, and writing about what I'm going to do, why I haven't done what I haven't done, what's wrong, what's right, and every possible distraction from actually doing the things it's been my intention to do.

Thing is, I'm scared of writing something with the real intention of making something of value. Watching a film like "Boogie Nights" last night, for example, I feel so disconnected from any ability to actually make something that good, that I feel like giving up before I even start.

But I've watched some interesting programmes in the last few days. One, Status Anxiety, gave me real insights into my motives for success, including being an actor, wanting to write clever films, being a star, making and writing art and books and so forth. My low self esteem has been one of the biggest motivators for that. Perhaps I should make a little documentary about it. Second has been Stephen Fry's film about Bi Polar Disorder, The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive Then there was the documentary about The Century of Self.

I should comment on some of the thoughts I was having last night about my self and my life. It really occurred to me that I haven't been very much in The Present throughout my entire life. I've certainly been overly concerned about what other people thought of me, and I've had a gnawing sense of fear, and some vague intention to "work everything out before getting on with my life" for as long as I can remember.

Indeed, I went to bed last night, post meditation, with a strong insight into the fact that I was holding on to some decision I'd made very early on in my life that I needed to work out some monumental problem in order to feel some sense of relief and actually feel OK in the world. I know it's related to some incident in childhood.

But the thing is, I don't think I'll ever get to "that place" and the act of looking for it has been the biggest waste of my life.

So anyway...on to the business of "focus"...

I want to make this film. I want to do it "my way", obviously being influenced by those writers and directors I like the most. Certainly, I love the films of Paul Thomas Anderson, and I reckon if I ever get to making something that's any good, I'll use something of his style. Nice quirky films with rounded characters and interesting stories, unlike the usual Hollywood bollocks.

But the other thing is that I want to make films that investigate the things that fascinate me in my own way. Sure, there's some kind of "auto voyeurism" involved, and a degree of narcissism, but hey! that's how I'm made. I'm tired of trying to be perfect. If I'm a bit narcissistic, a bit self obsessed, then that's just too bad.

I think an awful lot of people are self obsessed. They're just stuck in the shame of it. Accepting self obsession is the first step, then maybe there's a way out of it. But it's something to be investigated, rather than denied or run away from.

So in the mean time, I really ought to read some more on writing, making films, art, and everything else relating to the making of these films. One other great thing I gleaned from "Status Anxiety" was that Bohemia is a state of mind, and that the Bloomsbury Group were dedicated to The Arts. I love the idea and lifestyle of Bohemia, and I dedicate my life to it.

In fact, I think I'll declare that on my blogs: Jack dedicates himself to a lifetime of Bohemia. The Bohemian lifestyle is absolutely where it is.

I know I have further to go with that idea, of course...

But all my heroes are Bohemians. Rodin, Lawrence, Kerouac, Matisse...all the free thinkers, the great directors, the actors and artists that have inspired me for years.

What I realise, though, is that I've never really fully embraced myself enough to explore Bohemia beyond the middle class image of genteel intelligensia it's had. For me, Bohemia has been a way to be accepted (or revered) rather than simply enjoyed.

So this is why I must still plunge further into the whole business of The Arts, and the Bohemian lifestyle.

Hallelujah!

And at the same time, focus on making this film...

The Alternate (scene)

2008-01-15T16:38:00.001-08:00

The Alternate (scene)
Video sent by synchronicity

A couple of my scenes from THE ALTERNATE, which is a time travel thriller short film that will be hitting the film festivals this year

TROY clip

2008-01-15T16:12:00.001-08:00

TROY clip
Video sent by synchronicity

A clip from a job. I play the director of a film that's being shot in a studio. Then there's a case of mistaken identity. Ho ho ho...

StumbleVideo - MUST WATCH: Elephant drawing other elephants amazing video

2008-01-14T22:02:00.000-08:00

StumbleVideo - MUST WATCH: Elephant drawing other elephants amazing video

25 minute speed writing

2008-01-13T17:41:00.000-08:00

RANDOM things came to John as his plane touched down for the first time. It was a hot day, and the airport wasn't all that busy in Texas. She wasn't with him today - she was at the mall, shopping again, and probably spending more of his money.

It had all been a lot easier since the win. There was plenty now: money to spend on the kinds of things he'd never had before. Cars, toys, a new home, and the aeroplane. He'd been taking lessons from The Texan for three months now. It didn't really bother him too much that he was being ripped off. He knew the man had problems, and he was helping him out in his own way.

WHat bothered him was the was she treated him. He knew in the back of his mind that she only wanted him for his money. She was a gold digger. That was as plain as day. But he always fell for them. It was the weakness he fell for. The emotional neediness. Like he was some kind of rescuer or something.

She'd worked on and off in bars, lap dancing most of the time, occasionally turning tricks for the wealthier punters. She's been married a couple of times, and had a kid. The kid was Ok. Just about ten, and already seeing what her mother was. The glances of embarrassment told him that she'd been there before with her mother. She wouldn't be going down that road, he thought.

It reminded him of the way he used to be with his own father. How many times had he actually looked the man in the eyes, and seen what was going on there, deep down? Twice, in his whole life? His own father was a boozer, too. Whisky.

She drank Tequila. Mostly Margueritas, but she'd always get to shots by the end of the evening.

She'd been married just the once. Sally wasn't her husband's child. Her dad was a long way off. Just a one night stand, that left the next day. She never saw him again, and Sally never asked.

He taxied the plane to the parking bay, and silently congratulated himself on a good landing. There had been some heavy crosswinds, and this was the first time he'd landed on instruments alone. He was determined to make the most of his money, he knew. Sure, he'd been through seventy five grand in just over three months, but he was having fun. And he had plenty left.

He'd always wanted to fly. Not enough to actually work and save the money to do it. He'd had a couple of friends who flew and, having had the chance to fly himself now and then, he knew it was fun but could get tedious like anything else. There was still a lot of paperwork, a lot of planning, and it was hardly like it must have been in the days before beacons and air lanes and the sky full of traffic like it is now.

The phone rang. It was her, calling from another store and wanting a credit line increase.

"What's it for, baby?" he said.
""Honey, I seen a beautiful coat here on sale, and it's a bargain!" You'll love it, baby.

He actually hated it when she called him "baby". Something reminded him of tacky songs about sad drunks and, if he was really honest about her, that's exactly what she was.

Some part of him knew deep down inside that he wasn't really satisfied with the way things had turned out. I mean, sixteen million dollars is a lot of money, but it's true when they say it doesn't bring happiness, he thought. He'd bought so many toys, and it galled him that he still didn't use any of them to any real degree. There was the pool that he intended to swim in every day, but had used six times. There was the drum kit, which again was some fantasy he had about playing in a band. Was he likely to? And come on, was he really going to fly solo around the world? Did he really think he could do it?

Winning the money was a curse, he thought to himself. This woman was no real friend to him, let alone a good lover. She was using him, and he knew it. He was a weak man, and didn't have the balls to admit he had nothing to really offer anyone. How many good women had passed through his arms over the years, but he thought he knew what he wanted.

A crackle came through the radio as the air traffic controller squawked the last few words to The Texan. It seemed there was a bit of a joke going on. They'd had this kind of guy before, it was plain. This kind of guy who needed to show off a bit.

The world was full of them.

END

StumbleVideo - Sculpture 01

2008-01-12T19:18:00.000-08:00

StumbleVideo - Sculpture 01

StumbleVideo - Paul Morley & Simon Armitage deconstruct &This Char…

2008-01-12T11:29:00.000-08:00

StumbleVideo - Paul Morley & Simon Armitage deconstruct &This Char…

25 minute unedited speed written short story

2008-01-12T03:55:00.000-08:00

Darla Rose was a perfectionist, much to her constant dismay. It was her mother's fault, she told herself. After all, it had been her mother who'd pushed her and pushed her all those years ago to do things right. "A job worth doing is a job worth doing well", she'd say, with a kind of bitterness, Darla thought, that was reflected in the way her lips seemed to take on a cruelty that she couldn't quite define without the unique perspective of hindsight.

It was a bright day. Darla was up at six. It was unlike her, seeing as she was essentially a lazy person. Perfectionist, yes, but like all perfectionists Darla found the whole prospect of living her life having to prove herself to everyone else such a monumental burden that she could barely find the motivation to open her eyes.

Life wasn't fun for her.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Life was fun in her imagination, at least now and then it was. It was fun in her dream romances, where her perfect man swept her off her feet and loved her in a way that she...wasn't entirely clear about, but did nevertheless love her.

Darla's biggest problem, she was told by her rather expensive, slightly irritating therapist, was that she just didn't really know how to play.

"But that's the problem when the outcome has to be so precise" he would tell her, with a smirk of self satisfaction that would sometimes make her feel a combination of shame, hurt, envy and anger that this slightly pompous foreigner (he was Argentinian) would understand her better than herself.

He was right, of course, but for Darla to accept herself now, at 37, would mean big changes that perhaps she just wasn't able to do.

But it was clear to her that change was needed, at least.

She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing an unopened can of coffee, which she put beside the coffee maker. A miaow from outside the front door told her that her cat, always impatient with a kind of unjustified self importance that she envied constantly, wanted to come in.

"Hello, little one!" she said, opening the door wide to the cat.

The cat, an expensive Burmese that had been given her by a dying friend a couple of years earlier, trounced in the way so many cats do, with an air of magnificent ownership of her home.

The cat miaowed again, demanding food. Darla went to the cupboard and reached for the dry cat food and spilled a handful or two into the cat's bowl. The cat glanced at her momentarily with a look of "is that all?" before consuming what was given. A few mouthful later he would be demanding the wet food which he knew was in Darla's fridge. For now, though, the dry would do.

THursday. At least it wasn't tuesday, which was such an awkward day. Thursday was at least just a day before friday, which was at least the end of the week. Not that she was working, and had the responsibilities most others had, of course. She was lucky. SHe had the inheritance to live off. She loathed that each day meant taking another little nibble from the pie, but that was really life for her, she thought. Each day she grew a little older, and each

END

December 23

2008-01-11T10:47:00.001-08:00

December 23
Video sent by synchronicity

This is the kind of thing I mean when I say it's important for a creative person to do anything to get the juices flowing. It makes me cringe with embarrassment that it's there, because it's...a bit weird...but it's something that some part of me wanted to do, and that's OK with me.

There's plenty of time to do "sophisticated" stuff. But now, I want to do whatever comes out.

It'll make sense eventually, you'll see...

Friday

2008-01-11T09:10:00.000-08:00

So now's my next go at this. Not correcting as I go along, juts to get the juices flowing uninhinited

NAd it's funny, because I am aware of the gact that I might actually be hitting the wriong kets entirely, and it doesn't really natter.

Making mistakes is essenmtial to the flow of making creative thinsg. And that;'s really what it;s all about. I must make mistakes, and be OKL with making mistakes,

I know that bny doing this I will be breaking old opatteneresnm. I wonder , actually, if thuiss is why I jhabven't been getting why I 've been felling the fway I have avout things over the last couyople of days, I mean, I haven;t bveen feeling all that goodm, with the rdepression coming up. bnut I think more than anything else that;s just the feelings from sdeep down iunside me. I*t doesn;t really matter thant I;m getting stranfge beelings. It's important that Ip;m ghetting feelings, and haveing some kind of stuff come uyp at lla.

These are all uilllusioopns. I m,ean, the feelings of depressiona dra only there becuas eof the sghame that's asssociated with them, not jhesy the depression or the bad beeflings themselves. I know that waht I feel more than anythig sr the feeli9ngs I;bve aALWQAYS fel;y" tyhat I'm ghpesless and not geood aty naytyhing at all. I mean, isn/t that why I haven't bearlety worked most of my lfie?:

I know that more than anyyingh I want to be an actor and forhdycrs work that's good. But6 what hwne I do that I feel good, hes. But what abopuyt wheat people thinkl" That's been the buiggestye problenm of all,. And as Ilong as I care too much about what otehr peopkle thinkl I lay myself ophe to reiducle and conatsnalty cgopgen my powef ayway.

And now what? No0w I feel abolfeultely styiflewd by thios, because I jsuyst WANT THINGS TO WORK OUTY FOR NMEEQQQ!!!! buyt that uyjhust haven;t been anything like as much Ias I) weaould like them to.

So erhre tod I go from here>

ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!!!!!!
Ity'sa always the same Al; I want to do is habve sonmething better thant I'm doing, 8ther than dwrll on the shit I;n dioing, buyt JSEWUS CHRIST i'nm sio sekf ssabvotabhesing of nweyself,@@@

So there we go again, Todtallty out of touch with my fellings and trying tio sdo anything that makes me contacty dfopme kind of real syelf. Yrtably I;m biot ebnrtirely sure if this sis effeetcibge. uyou, know? I mean, is it abny6 tood that I;m naking syiot6 here?: Syuff t6hat nobdoy undersatyand,s, lieasty of all ms7yelf?> Will I be poriohsuydoh realluy good wiork iof I carry onw ithio this cghioty? Coa the way tyhings are now, I fien that hard tio bnelieve/

However, it has to be said that be y forc8ing nmyself to do things, reaghrtadlliess ofhow hopopd they arew, I am getting tyjhe huioesds flowing, So loinga as I write a bgiot daily, and so loing asa II foucrse myself to look throughh the coameraa lens, sand so oiong as I force metyself to paint or dsawn somwstyhing I;m in catotant wityh the world outside of my hawe. IO'm in cationta wiotyh mys elfesebns,. And that's not such a bad thing at all.

i eman, idfd this was a o8ce of xcysltbpuyre, would I think suit was any godd. IO mean it waould be a biot of a mess, reight>? Surfe it wsould. I mean, theerr would be makesrs from clunsy nindgers and makes form thewhere I;' miseed theo tyhing aI do the gholding with, and thenh re aoulwe dfbe nakesakes dfrom ahwere I'm dmdesedd up netrieely.

This is fun adctalyioy. BNecaus eas I'm geting the r3ring wbonhkliwestwes, it dopesn;t matter, bec7ase 9io]mk inetendtioing to heit wst5he ribhht bhweyes and it kinda means that :i e;an opsytstting suykething out theere ain ethena theop andintike euinto the rworldf, out side.

TNow that dind't make snay tswene ewhat evere , bnuyt aghaion it gdoebns matetr at all , cbcuawed us ethe manibn thaing is athat I;me nalking stuff , anjd ai:j brinerg sint sthin thin ouyr apf my hea d na donly the canbacio, or tha apasge, kr sioanthing'

tHIS MUYy st showh wsometing of the dr4eysrt rtraoion of mys,.wefl./ I mean, the re nmsys nme a ba gurt dbpartg of mes that heels del funrstrtraied abgout this, andf this is the partyh for me that'[s pu7t5ting it ousd there into the workld

IOt wfele IOL fronm me to sdo this kins of hsit.

And it remninds me of hwo I qwa hhwne I find ts bcam eto UAtysin, and I put some weirdm pi8antings on the wall of my kitychen, noty cvariong what people thaouths baout it. It was a ahdl;e0bnatyeething, hlu hee, because it meqan that O could ydo stuff that was abuisltyley shityting abnd it tdioddidnd;ty matyter at all, becuajse there I awa accetyitin a bvpat opf myself that needed to exprrwss itsself,

And that's aexchtacly what I;'m, do8n here, see>

?????

And that's it> Tharts's iexstyaleyy what I('m nspdin nher, see?"

Thats;'s what I;m soind here!@QQQ!QWWQQ@WWWQ

Fuck iut. This is wjhagt I wnat to do, aind I edo realay ise the refruinsdtsratyuobn iof sit, I do rwlise I;m angrery and ai nwa to to hjust ahebv aeverjyjiokn flow tyh eawua ai wantt it dod..

IOty's gwjiotye fpiossdibnel for it to ghaoppen,. WHjiot eIll

But now this is wjhat i;'m diongh,. Itys'a an exoerhxcise, and there's a rwason sone pfro it. I ;m dojnb this be3cuause it m,aena I can accept this ma[[srtta of me that w2ant sto do dtyojsusty sshdopd cvartepa catap catsp[agtcrtaaocvrtapa ctapa ctapc tapc atsp ctaps stcap ctyysp[ ctsaoprnctyre cbcrep[c crap

CRAP

And there wae ere erfe we Tsa re re are

Crap///////,,,,,smmdhojbhdiudfiuijbhsdf

I ca m do crap becuas the rworld is full of crap. Therea' sop muyc crap, bety its's sopuhosiotccvatted cvrap

dspp sophsisticated crap,

Buyt crap never thelesss

Crap neverthelsss

And That's sopmethint I want to abvwooc. I want tyo makle tsidff that actually nmeans somethying hy tje itsn't catrp

See.?:???

There are planet of ways of soiongt things that are rwlaky rwaly good
'

Plenty of wayws

And righht bnow I want a apiss

But wajht I need to do, sooo mych too mcuyhy theer3e wer go is to have a nice cold sghower and go dof a ruin. Theat's mucp0re like4l;y thahn anaythiong to gert mye houicueses pflwoing and aget me out t5here atne ddoion thweing sthat are sexioweying.

I know that moe ntghan tabnatyyhing I;be bveen SCARED of wther oork saba bad luive aabd akll of furtm, bvyrt rtghartta;'s giouit to eTSP PO now nxcya seus I ama a nman abdtert all, and I can do tstjhf that;s ayexiksteing and gsood and mstyaityckine ena dtha tailw gert wenty egdoin oplanetuful stuff

I and awnaty thin gthing sis that LP hyrlaly want to get awya dfoirm masttuyrnnat8ing ion canmre na agbn jfppeeib aleseing mcy cooisuik in fomr thioo the a and be atcoming cujnmn8ubng from thenm . Thats; been s asrtrlaly stuffp id ghabveit,k and I wodn;'t want to eod it anay thjore,.

AHHHHHQ!QQ sop now I see wqnhagt I m,;m sdoi ng here, Theis is a aconfbenmigtt away for ne toa comnmeihuinctae ctyaunpuycyallly , suisn[t it?:

Its'a a wtya from ne to telel ak, my ssbvecttes to the workld with bnowbvody rallky auinder atdnn ing wnat I;'m s8at, riagnt" uyes orfr coucwes, Tha tmaklesz so mych snenbse, doesn t' it"

Therte I am, ahsanined ortf nat wi I dio, mwy eiost9n here a,.unre,kin g liek a a cifcnuihn cowards ato wiot with m yy ockl a whhat I ;am ahsamed of any way, and I mwnat to have enepklpe elike my eaapoforf ehwo I am. Buty 5the thikng si ska i odn;t lierk aiwho I am. I conmd tl kliek my beody , s8 Knd ;t ljkem mty skcok, and i don '[tyy l,iek the things ti ftha I'm dojbfg with msye life/;

I think*i a;m ve ebene swating it ,anhd it agabs make ronr deel qyitywe absamed of what of a I am an dioibn with msyelf.

And bnow mtyore than agthing thnibfg UI;m vnstysrerying for a piss, and theta' ajhwajer I wrea;uy want to dod

Git theis thinfg ghas to duyp no,.e. I m,era, m,s is it a mednmitataiopn,for its iot stomethin slee4s"

is this a meditatuons" Annd wbow mych luineger tod ui bgave to dio dit? Is thsis relaklklty enfabesds mty cratibve iveself :"

I einf ist ssduiddiff7yuclt rto beelieve that theis is erally aconartctcrtkl\

END

More morning pages

2008-01-10T10:03:00.000-08:00

So I write my new online morning pages, and see what on earth I can come up with the will unblock the blocks and get the flow going.

And getting the flow going really is what it's all about.

So what I'm going to do is get my timer and write now for 25 minutes, non stop, just for the hell of writing. I might write garbage, and I might write in a way that actually doesn't mean anything, but write I will as It's such a good way of getting the creative juices flow.

I'll just carry on writing until the timer goes, and then that will be it. Instead of writing three pages in a diary I'm writing for twenty five muinutes.

But it's all about keeping the flow going, isn't it? just keeping the flow going...

So what I'll do now is I'll write without checking mistakes. I won't be toobothered aboyt punctuation or spelling or anythinh either, just so that I get the words Out. I think that there's something uiportant aboyt using bother sides of the brain, and that's what happesn when you tupe. Type.

So this is it. I know that when I get some kind of momentunm going I just might come up with something special. Like doing the Guardian, or something, topo. I like to join the chats in The Guardian as it adds to my special thing. To my ...whatever is the word I'm looking for?

So this is it. This is doing the thing the way I do it. Looking for somethning , ro hooing that something will come from doing this thing.

I know that tyyhere;s reason for doing this. It's in part that I'll be speeding up my typimns skills, also that I';; be leanring pu8ncatation, also that I'll be doing thinsg that will make me get more spanatansous with the words and thinking and all of that.

But this is twenty five minutes, and it may turn out to be longer than I think it really is.

but the truth is nobodu will botehr to read this shit so it's hardly that it's going to matter, right? I mean, there might be a few strange goings on in it, but what the hell?

I had a thought about stars just now: that stars are just people, yes, but theyr;e people who have delibveratly manipulated their own images to be seen as something in particualr. I want to bve a star. And I am a star, dammit. I know that I can do some exciting shit, and I thionk I'll do that at some point.

I really enjoty the challenge of life. I mean, imagine if I dioatual;lyu make it mow?

AH I rememebver that thiouygt I had now, and it was important. I was thinking about getting to some gereat Elysium where I wouyldn't have to do the wrok aby more. Where non e of it would matter, becauyse I'd already meade it and I was a srtar. Loke, I didn't have to do anything any more? TYhat's likely, yes? No way! tHere are plenety of desoperately miserable famous actirs out there, and tyheire fame jhjasn'ty mean t a thing to them. And what makes me thionk I'd be any differenty? I can't trate fame as if it's goijg to be any different to the way thinghs are now. And what' odd is that I vet there aee and awful lot of dfamous people who see like very differentl for m actually bcemomgh gemous./

This is interesting, becuase I can see the worlds that come out worion on the screenm buyt the importyamjt thaing is that IO'm, thiknmkiing the thoughst and formulatying the ideas and haveing the realizationms as I'm going aliong, without habveing to be cortr3echted by some nasty little intesrtal; rcritci!!!

And that's rvvertuy haelthy, isn't it?

Don't know how much lionger I have before the clock buzzes and the timer does its thing, but this is poritiave stuff, for suyre.

Sooooo.....

I've thought about Elyseimuym and what thetat means, and I;'ve thoughrt a bit aboyrt teh crteative process. I think what I'll do here as well is add the daily pghoptos and the daily drawing,e xcagh lf whcuih wil be addin t oi mey getting msylef out reather than fdining muyself "in". There's moiter d to my nmadebness I know@!
Mand itthis certainly isd a really posutibe tyhing to do@

BORED NOW! Cos I want doms iknd of fgferat ebnlightenment, and I jyst want it to gome come to my mind iof s9me great and fganbkouus wya that will bearn me grtea miney and all of that.

Dammit, I hsouykd jhust do the thing for theh hatyddycall it too. jYs get that ciode out and let it bve. I mena, what the hell, egh? Does it realkty metter what people think?" Agrte all, this is what I;'m doing this thing with the "letting it alll out "malarleuy.

So the timer still hasbn;t done its/' thing,.

Thiknking abouyt JHJu8li8as, and Hwo hdifferent her attuitudfe to all this jibnd lf thikng is. her being a oergectionist and al that! I mean, she just couldbe;'t be free abouyt whuth athis, could hhe" She coulkdn't bear to not even have some kind of shit going ion, let akling having speklking mesuatkes like thsui?

But Julia isn't a p;rhojest of mine to make wll. II am the oprejhects! na that's the way things are nowe!

Buit I do jst a snse of ungerbncy as I do thinfg. It's as thougnh I hjust gotta so womsthing wuityhoyt my bgrain inecgaghes at all, as it thats's hling toe mena tnhat ghI c';'kk aghabve spometyhjingh happens thag tha t will be ocnm xzuwsreradinirhy luty bnoro;;linat that I'l, be see ns as aoms kuind of ghrerojnd bronmaking indichoiual;s.

But ah. Now,. I dond/'t thinkt that's alikely. ir aot leabrt, I think that what ai wa was domi thing was encounmtering tyhe frysttrauion of neion a person wh[s in touyc with some of huis real hurty and damgae abnd pain. Could that be iot? Grtahklly, I don;t knwo for foure.

WJHat I want from myself is ti make sometnkbng so iouytstandinglu brilluiabt athat It wll neopt just be of immense bvalies to the word, but that it will bneake me jhjuige am8pimtys of muknue, 6oop..

Oh fuck it. That;'desn;t make anty snesn iof atlla ud duit? My fi nders arn;t ghaitting abnything ,like the right heyts. I ned to hyave a ket borafd rthat I can jet thi kets wuith without anty owrry. And I do find, too,. tja IO hit some kets too qulick;y. Expecyssluay I seem to uinvertys kets on the let side, wjhich is neternerstyingh. I'll press some kstyy - there, I just did it p[ - with the left and puirt fthe letter sin the rwrong order, like I was sydtliecizxic.

TYhis is nriong boiw. So nioring, I can't be biothered with it.

DMAMMIT@Q I,a,k just ferystrated, can't uhou se that!

How I'm I gojing to contact something of real wbweopiev when I ;'m not even hiting the right kets? And how is this expressing msyefl? NMyt I syoppiose it is in some kind of way. Some party for me wants to so it, doesn't it? DO I sjould lety ist be.

I mean, that's my pghlitspptyy wt tregrad to a lot of things. I sdo reailly beluive that some latr of oneselesbv whatts to dio the things it does when it does tham. And Denyting tnhat is what cauyses people to become sop frystrtared by stuff. It;'s terribly imprtant, I believe , to just do things and let that be the wya it is. Instead of getting too hssuyssy bout making thisnbfg "dead righT" or somethinmg like that.

Now them./ What '

25 minutes are up!

Oh Fuck it

2007-12-25T07:32:00.000-08:00

I'm still in bed, and it's Christmas day, and these are my morning pages.

I'm feeling a bit sensitive about the video now on Dailymotion, because I think I come across as a loser. Thing is, I do, and I have been.

But as I've said before, my "success" and my "failure" are illusions, based on old belief systems that I've lived with and had to carry as awful burdens my whole life. I was taught that I wasn't any good at anything, and that's why it's continued to be a weight around me - a ball and chain.

In all the videos I've watched of myself, I know that who I am one moment is gone the next. Karma is instant, and I can change my behaviours and beliefs instantly.

So, the video of me being all pathetic and morose and self conscious is the me that was then. In fact, anything I do is only done then. Like any artist, what I do is never enough, and it's always irrelevant to some degree, from the moment it's finished.

My huge issue is and always has been my self esteem. My self consciousness has got in the way of my life so badly, that and nothing else has been my biggest enemy - as it is for so many people.

So all I need to do now is just accept this phenomenon for what it is, and not be scared ANY MORE what people think of me or what I do. I reckon it's going to be difficult for me, but dammit, I know what I'm saying makes sense!

Who knows who'll look at me and my videos and my writings now and in the future? What will they think of them?

Well, one thing's for sure, and that's that my fantasies about what people think and what they think are both actually irrelevant, because while I'm the victim of the conditioning that was thrust upon me in my childhood, I'm still the slave of other people now.

And that just ain't acceptable.

Nowadays, more than any time before, the true freedom comes from breaking the shackles of conditioning. My freedom will only come when I accept myself, as I am, right now, or whenever "right now" is.

I have to love and accept myself AS I AM in order to grow and be happy and successful, whatever "succesful" is!

New videos

2007-12-24T14:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I spent a couple of days creating videos that I think are crap and embarrassing on a certain level. Cringing embarrassing, in fact, but it's all part of the business of healing.

I know the kind of thing I want to make, and getting there is a bit of a process. It does mean going through the fundamentals all over again, or maybe even for the first time. And that means doing stuff that might well be very childlike.

What if someone sees it who thinks I should be doing something better than that at my age? What if someone sees it and thinks I'm a joke? What if someone sees what I'm doing and just thinks I'm weird, or sad, or pathetic, or a loser or something?

Well the thing is, those are all feelings I've had about myself, and the fear is that the shit will be a reality in others' eyes, too.

So it means slaying the dragon, first of all, and standing naked "out there" unashamed of what I'm doing, or can do.

As I've said before, there's method in my madness, because ultimately, I sincerely believe this is a powerful form of healing. It's a kind of public self acceptance, and it's a kind of unconditional love.

Just as people have laughed at musicians like Bjork for her bizarre music and lyrics, The Masses have mocked the truly innovative for millennia.

Most people just want what's the norm: the kind of art that's a copy of what's going on at the time, or the kind of art or music that's been done already. Very rarely does some new art come on the scene: it very often smacks of styles done shortly before, and that's how things just get boring.

Yes, the videos I'm doing at the moment are naive and weird. The might have some kind of truth in them, and some kind of appeal, but they're far from being good or interesting, and the certainly wouldn't reach out to the multitudes.

I feel a little bit like Marshall Barer, who just did weird and eccentric stuff all his life. Not weird for the sake of weird, but just weird because it was what it was, and that's just how it went.

I'm attracted to the kookie and weird, though. That's just the way it is. And I like to make my own art. At least, it's my intention to carry on making my own art, because that's what I think we should all do.

It's very unoriginal to just buy art as mass produced posters, or pay huge (or even small) fortunes for art that someone else has done. Sure, there's a reason to have art that someone else has done, but only if it really moves you.

What's the kind of film I'd like to make eventually? Well, I do like the idea of making a film that incorporates some different things: film that breaks through boundaries, and just takes you somewhere else. I know I'l script something at some point, and spend some time shooting a "real" film that I would like to think will be something like "magnolia", perhaps?

Or something that's a series of shorts like "Short cuts".

But I know that to get there I have to turn the camera away from me, and on to the outside world. That means finding characters, and realising that it means I won't get the same kind of exposure as I'd have liked.

I am, after all, a bit of a narcissist. I like to be the centre of attention. What do I want to make another actor that for, now?

But I think I'll start using this blog instead of doing the morning pages. That way I don't have to lug a book around with me, and they'll always be there for me to access.

Plus, any future biographer will have all he or she needs on me to write a biography.

ho ho ho

Like I think I'm ever going to be famous now...

I think once I finally really accept that ain't gonna happen, I can really just get on with the business of being an actor and writer.

As long as I can make a living doing what I want to do, then I'll be happy.

Diary

2007-12-22T15:06:00.001-08:00

Diary
Video sent by synchronicity

my witterings about what's going on in my life right now

Love is Real22

2007-12-22T10:44:00.001-08:00

Love is Real22
Video sent by synchronicity

Wedding video, to John Lennon's "Love"

Onward to creative recovery...

2007-12-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

Well it's been a while since I've posted on this blog and I think I'll use it for experimentation and exploration of my creativity.

I've been going through some creative upheavals in the last few weeks, and in the last few days I've been getting some insights about things, and some reminders about how I have to approach what I'm doing as a creative person. My "making a movie" blog has been slowing down, and I'm certain it's because I've lost spontanaity and the creative urge.

Watching a video about children learning mathematics the teacher commented that children learn so much more easily because they're not afraid of making mistakes. And that's something I've done for much of my life - feared mistakes, and feared making a fool of myself. I know I DID learn that making a fool of myself earned me all kinds of respect, and that's why I became the clown, but there was some nagging sense of something wrong that was always there, and I'm beginning to know what it is.

Watching Stephen Fry's documentary on Manic Depression has been a huge eye opener. I see a lot of myself there. No, I don't think of myself for one moment as anything like as successful or, if I'm brutally honest, as talented as him. But I do see something of the manic depressive in me - certainly the way I used to be.

What I've been dealing with of late is that fundamental force of self hatred, I think, that lurks in the psyche of the comedian and manic depressive, and maybe in the performer in general. The need for external acceptance is huge in entertainers and performers: it's what made them start doing it in the first place. In order to get attention, every performer learns to do what's needed in order to get that attention, whether it's make someone laugh, cry, be interested, sexual, or become addicted in whatever way possible. The "larger than life" manic person will always win the attention of people purely because he draws them to him.

Perhaps the goal of any creative person is to get attention. Maybe it's to make a connection. Who knows? What I do know is that I like to do things that interest me, and I do like to perform.

Maybe I just need to go back to being "larger than life". Except I'll know, like all manic depressives know, that it's an act. And when you're acting you're always going to be lonely, because you're performing. And while you're performing you can never have true intimacy.

So what I'll continue to play with with my videos and my thoughts and my art and my writing and music and so forth is the disovery of my self and my "thing".

And that's the purpose of this blog.

Maybe I'll make some self exploration videos, just for the hell of it. They make me cringe, because I'm exposing myself to the world. But the thing is, what is the self that gets exposed, anyway?

I've looked at myself crying a hundred times, and I know that the guy I see in tears isn't "me", but just a part of me. This, the observer, is just as much a part of the man that is Jack Lee, as is the depressive, as is the manic, as is the bored me, the raging me, the lonely me, the devious me, or the hateful me. None of them is me any more than my arm is me or my finger is me, or my hair is me.

The only "me" I can really say is perhaps me is my spiritual self: the one that breathes. The soul, that is connected to others by some strange cord. The "perfect" me, as it were. But that me is not my personality. It's a far more fundamental part of who I am, and is quite untouchable. Only I can reach that part. And others can only reach the true "me" if I let them.

Or something like that...

But anyway. I'm now in the process of asking questions in a more childlike way. I've always known that was the way to go. And I know I got knocked off the path by irrational thinking.

But I shall now, God willing, rediscover the fun side of ME, and get back to being JOLLY CREATIVE, making some grand mistakes along the way!

The Inner critic

2007-01-14T10:57:00.000-08:00

OK, so let's take a look at some of the previous posts, and critique them the way I would normally...

"Piano doodles", for example. Well, plainly the person playing the piano - me - can't play the piano! It's crap! Tinky tonky nonsense, and embarrassing. How can I have the gall to put that on the internet? What if someone sees it? Aren't I ashamed of someone seeing it? What about if someone sees it that I want to impress?

The above is typical of my critical thinker - the person who has been determined to not let me progress beyond where I am now, artistically. I know that as an artist I need to simply be prolific in what I do, and just keep doing stuff regardless. The purpose being that my creative blocks are broken by simply letting self consciousness pass through me and beyond me. I realise, though, that as I say such things on some level I'm trying to defend some crappy work. But that's only secondary to the main objective - to reach a place of unfettered creativity.

I need to be able to be free in what I create in order to create. If my creativity is stifled though shame and criticism - or listening to criticism - then I fall at the first fence.

One of the things I decided to do some time ago was create art from an inner child. In effect, the idea was that I'd accept anything that came out of me, with the understanding that it was a child that was creating it. And, just as I'd be proud and accepting of a "real" child's art (or piano playing) I'd put their art on my fridge, or go along to concerts and listen to my child's music, no matter how good or "bad" it was.

Because a child's art is a precious and beautiful thing.

My art was ridiculed and neglected when I was young. I learned, directly and indirectly, that my art wasn't very good. What I had to say wasn't interesting. My voice was taken away, or stifled. And what I do now - what my healing is - is to rediscover that voice, that self expression, that was crushed when I was so young.

I know perfectly well that my spirit was crushed when I was a child. It was crushed by my parents' rage and frustration and own childish needs. Their own inner children were stifled and frustrated, so on some level they were, no doubt, feeling resentful of me. I know this. I felt it, and it was real. Parents won't admit it, but on some level many of them resent their children, and the spirit they see in their children.

And external critics, as well as internal critics, feel the same. A critic wants to destroy, whereas as creative person only wants to create.

Coming back to this blog

2007-01-14T10:50:00.000-08:00

The Artist's Way group dissolved.

So I thought I'd resurrect this blog for my own purposes.

What I think I can do now is just use it as a document of my own artistic endeavours. I can put down stuff that relates to The Artist's Way, and any other thoughts I have about it. I can certainly add things like videos and so on, and explore the whole business of creativity - even if it's just for creativity's sake.

Film

2005-12-15T22:13:00.000-08:00

Dailymotion blogged video
Film
Originally uploaded by synchronicity

Just messing around with editing, sounds, shapes, colors and the arty filmy thing. Some art I've done over the past year or so, accompanied by some odd piano

It's actually inspired by the Artist's Way. It's just a case of "doing it" and seeing what turns up, as it were...

Not the best bit of piano you'll ever hear, but improvised, original, and in one take.

2005-12-02T21:01:00.000-08:00

This is my emergency Artist's Way book, notebook and pen.

The idea is that if I ever get stuck or blocked again, I go through the book once more.

It's hanging on the wall where I pass it every day.

Piano doodles

2005-11-29T13:55:00.000-08:00

Dailymotion blogged video
Piano doodles
Originally uploaded by synchronicity

Playing around on the paino, improvising and doodling. This is how I like to sit and think.

The basic principles

2005-06-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

1 Creativity is the natural order of life. Life is energy: pure, creative energy

2 There is an underlying, in-dwelling creative force infusing all of life - including myself

3 When I open myself to my creativity, I open myself to my creator's creativity within me and within my life

4 I am, myself, a creation. And I, in turn, am meant to continue creativity by being creative myself

5 Creativity is God'd gift to me. Using my creativity is my gift back to God

6 The refusal to be creative is self-will and is counter to my true nature

7 When I open myself to exploring my creativity, I open myself to God: good, orderly direction

8 A I open my creative channel to The Creator, many gentle but powerful changes are to be expected.

9 It is safe to open myself up to greater and greater creativity

10 My creative dreams and yearnbings come from a divine source. As I move towards my dreams, I move towards my divinity