Thursday, October 18, 2007

Performance Poyum

Enough is enough, thank you.

No, honestly, I couldn’t.

Not at all.

No, really.

Honest.

Well…

I shouldn’t really…

You know how it is…

But, I can’t say that I haven’t –

Go on then.

Just a wee bit.

Just dip it in the sauce.

Lovely.

Oh that’s good.

Oh that’s very good.

Why didn’t I try that one earlier?

Oh I like that one.

But this one’s my favourite.

Oh, yum.

Yum.

Yum, yum, yum.

I do like that one.

But, what about that one, the first one.

Oh it’s tasty.

I’ll just try one of these in there, in that first one.

Oh now, that’s just the ticket.

Will it taste the same with one of these in that sauce?

Oh!

Oh!

Goodness!

I like that, oh I do like that.

What happens if you mix the two together?

Oh yes, I like that too!

Mhmmm.

There’s not much of it left, I may as well finish it off.

Ach what harm will it do?

It’s just a wee bitty.

There.

Just like that.

And that.

And… that…

Now…

Aw.

There’s none left.

Aw.

I don’t feel well.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Shetland and elsewhere

I find myself sat cross legged on my bed in a B&B in Lerwick, Shetland.

It's been good to get away from Mull for a bit.
As much as I love my life there, I really do appreciate getting away from it from time to time.

I went through to Edinburgh to catch up with some pals on the Friday night, after having forced my self to do work all the way on the train from Oban.
It was a nice night, and we even caught a play at the Travarse. It wasn't a great piece, but it was very well acted, especially by that bright young star still in ascendance, Owen Whitelaw.
A top chap, and one to watch out for.

So after that we ended up in a club listening to 80's and 90's dance. Oh lordy.
I jsut don't fit in, in club environments. I'm totally out of place. But ach well, it was fun.
And then I finished off the night by being informed that I was, indeed, the other man in someone's affections, but she was considering heading off to the land of Oz with the first fella. Which was nice.

Oh well. I am a bachelor, and a bachelor I shall remain.
More Star Trek... More...

Well, on Monday I flew up to Shetland, from Glasgow, and saw the whole of the west coast of Scotland open up there in front of me. Amazing. The best plane ride I've ever had.

So in Shetland I've spent the odd day here and there leading a workshop or two, eating like a porcine individual and generally soaking up the lovely atmosphere.

But the reason I started writing this was to describe the very strange experience I had after a workshop on Tuesday night.
Jackie, who has organised my trip, said to head on down the pub after the workshop had finished, and she'd meet up with us there.
So I got a lift from one of the participants, who asked me if I fancied a wee trip around Lerwick on the way.
My current philosophy being a 'yes' approach to life, I said 'ok...'.

So off we headed roon the toon.
For the first 5 mins, her hazard lights kept flashing, which she was totally unaware of, whilst singing along to Amy MacDonald...
And then when we came to turn round and head off back to the pub, she took the car up an alleyway, past loads of houses, and then reversed (showing me that the car had a reversing camera and screen) straight into another car. She didn't say much.
We just drove off.
Eventually she said that "That happens all the time in Shetland"...
Pictures of James Caan in a bed kept flashing in to my head.

hmm...

But since then things have been perfectly fine and normal. Mostly.

Today was spent travelling around the mainland on the quest for otters with the boys and girl from the company.

And now, perhaps a wee battered sausage supper and chips.

I like being on the road.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Bachelorhood

I guess I kind of set it as a marker of sadness, or perhaps just simple singularity of masculinity.
I always thought that those kind of people who buy Star Trek series on video or DVD are standing out as archetypal bachelors.

Well.

I've just ordered the 1st Season of Star Trek The Next Generation on DVD.
In my defence it was cheap-ish, and it's been at least 10 years since I've seen any of it.

But does this mean that I'm a sad bachelor pushing 30?

Oh jings....


Tuesday, May 15, 2007

A Lively Fellow

I took a trip from Tobermory to Colonsay, and back round the west coast of Mull on the Waverley last weekend.
It was astonishing how beautiful the journey was.

Whilst on the boat I met Alasdair Gray - a genuine all time hero of mine.

After having written quite about about my dead heroes on this page, I think I'll now give some thoughts over to a living one.

I must remember to update this blog soon...

More soon.

A

Thursday, April 12, 2007

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut, an author who I admire above most others is no more.


A master of fiction his works were accessible and profound.
Many people seemed not to really rate as his work as they found it to lack layers.
I think his work was radically the opposite.

His work speaks to you in plain terms, as one critic commented "like a demented Uncle".
In a way he's everything that I aspire to as a writer.
His work seduced you, sucked you in and got a hold of you on straight forward terms, and then took you for a roller coaster ride around modern life.
He was a great commentator.
I think it's safe to say his work will live on. He captured something so essential about how people interact, how people are. He spoke of not just aspects of the "American experience" but even broader of a realistic, fantastic 'Human experience'.

His death at the ripe old age of 84 proves that there's not only one way out if you're a great american novelist.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Memories of NYC & Spalding Gray

I'm slowly settling in to my new life on Mull, and appreciating the simple pleasures of having a clean kitchen, the art of hoovering (with my vacuum "Henry") and the secrets of starting a good fire.

A few weeks ago I ordered Morning, Noon & Night by Spalding Gray off of Amazon, and was delighted when it turned up at the Mull Theatre office.
Spalding Gray has long been a hero of mine. He was an American monologuist based, for the most part, in New York.

He wrote with such sincerity about his life, growing up and trying to fit in to the world as a sort of adult. Far from confessional, his work was comic and reflective.
Swimming to Cambodia is probably his best known work, concerning his experiences whilst filming The Killing Fields. This monolgue was turned in to a film with Jonathon Demme.

Another monologue, Gray's Anatomy, was filmed by Steven Soderbergh. This was my first introduction to his work, I think I recorded it off the telly when I was a student.
There was just something about him, so simple, honest and sincere in his presentation, that compelled you to watch him.

Well, as with all things that you read and come to love, I have a very personal attachment to the work of Spalding Gray. So much so, that if ever I own a cat I want to call it Spud, in honour of him. (His family nick name for him.)
Mind you if ever I have a dog, it's going to have to be called Django.

Spalding had always talked about suicide in his work, as various relatives of his had passed away in such a way. He seemed to muse on whether or not it was a gene that ran in the family.

Spalding was injured in a car crash during a family holiday in Ireland, receiving serious head wounds. This caused him immense pain and problems, and as time went by, after his return to the US it just got worse.
In the end he decided to jump off of a ferry in New York, in to the Hudson.
A tragic end to such a brilliant man.

Well. A year or so ago, I found myself in New York, after having visited my girlfriend of the time in Syracuse.
I was staying with my mate Courtney, who is the finest clown you could wish to see, and we were looking through an events guide for things to do.
It so happened that there was an evening tribute to Spalding and his work on at the Bowery Poetry Club. We leapt at the chance.
Courtney also invited two friends, Maia and H.R, who's also a monologuist of great skill.

It was a night I'll never forget.

A panel of readers sat on the stage, a mixture of men & women.
The format of the evening was simple, but brilliant. They each read small excerpts from Gray's work, all roughly tying in with each other.
Here were all of my favourite moments from his work being shared on stage.
All those moments that I'd privately laughed at, reading alone in bed in Dunoon, were now being celebrated by a theatre full of New Yorkers.

The excerpts came from work throughout his career, even from a monologue that was, at that time unpublished.
It didn't shy away from Spalding's musings on suicide from early in his life or indeed towards the end of his life, but found a perfect balance between all of the periods of his work.

The final moment of the presentation was from Morning, Noon and Night, where Spalding describes a moment with his family.
His wife and he are sitting in their kitchen talking, when suddenly they hear their children through in the other room listening to the radio loudly.
"Tub Thumping" by Chumbawumba blasts through the stereo.
Surprised, he and Cathy, his wife, head through to the other room.
The children are dancing around to the music, and so Spalding and Cathy join them.
The whole family are dancing to Chumbawumba.

And with that theatre was filled with the sound of "I get knocked down, but I get up again!" and the panel all got up and started to dance.
The whole panel were dancing to Chumbawumba.

It was such a simple, yet powerful moment.

So when I was lying in bed in Tobermory the other night, reading Morning, Noon and Night all on my own, I was suddenly transported back to a crowded New York theatre celebrating the life of a great man.

Here's to Spalding Gray.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Hong Kong - Home Dec 19th - 22nd '06

Well.

That's it. It's all over and done.

So I find myself back in
Scotland, in the cold, grey neon arms of Christmastime.

I shall now relate unto thee the events that preceded my sitting here at this desk in Hunters Quay, surrounded by books, a cup of green rice tea at my side and a cat asleep on my bed.

After the show finished a few of us popped out to Felix’s bar in the Peninsula hotel, just along from the Cultural Centre.

Felix’s is a well known spot, due to its situation on the 28th floor of the hotel, where it looks out on to the waterfront, and Hong Kong across the other side.

A popular place of the nineties it now feels slightly demoded, which was fine by me as I’m not really one of those smarmy bar types.

As you approached the 28th floor in the lift the lights changed colour as if to slip you in to the clandestine atmosphere of the bar.

It’s all very nice actually, but with a slight feeling of Miami Vice about it.

It wasn’t designed for comfort though, I’ll say that, as I kept slipping off of the perch ledge seats along the back wall of the bar. In the end I just stayed standing up, where I closer access to the Walkers plain salted crisps.

The beverage I supped, whilst at the counter was called a Red Rain, and it contained Vodka, Cranberry juice and some other things that I can’t recall.

All in all the prices at the bar were quite reasonable really, and it had a nice, relaxed atmosphere. Definitely worth a wee investigate, should you find yourself in Hong Kong / Kowloon.

Descending in the lift, back to the plebeian world, Sean hinted about fart noises, a la Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther Strikes Back. Standing in front of us in the lift was a tall, very serious looking business type.

And so the chorus of hand farts and, indeed, one real, squeaky fart, started.

The poor fellow couldn’t wait to get out of the lift. We all tittered like school children.

From Felix’s we went on to an Irish bar, and had ourselves a pint of Kilkenny. That went down well.

And then came the meal. Chinese style Hot Pot.

My esteem’d friend Mr Euan Davidson informs me that the Japanese have something similar called Shabu Shabu.

Hot Pot in this case, is not a dish of meats and sausages cooked in an oven till tender and juicy, but a communal feast that all can enjoy.

In the centre of table there is a hot plate, and on to this hot plate there is placed a pot of water and herbs that is brought to the boil. In to this boiling pot of water you then throw in all manner of vegetables, meat and fish that you have ordered.

The rule is: Once it floats you may eat it.

A simple way of eating, but oh so very tasty. And really communal. Every one is leaning over, prodding things and dipping things in to the pan. It’s a great thing for all the family.

I particularly liked the tender beef strips that you dipped in, until they were cooked. Lovely. I remember my Gran talking about Boiled Beef, but I’m sure it was nothing like this.

One of the really neat things about the hot pot is the fact that you get to concoct your own sauce to dip your objects in to. Oh yeah! Sesame and soy with garlic and spring onion and chilli and all sorts of goodies-tastic.

It’s a lovely thing to do with a group, and I really felt that it rounded off of our time working together so well.

Then it was out to the island for my last night and bed.

The next morning I had a walk out to Sai Wan, and a nice coconut pudding thing, with the wee ginger cat on my lap, enjoying the sun. Then that was it, I was off to central, luggage and all.

On the boat I listened to the last episode of the Hitch Hikers Guide to The Galaxy, which I’d been holding on to for some days.

After a Feldenkrais session with Sean, we went out to dinner with Bonni and Ming (a friend of Bonnie and Sean who had been helping out in production week). We went to a Chinese vegetarian restaurant, which was lovely, so light and delicate, and yet filling. Not to mention the brown rice cake, which was in no way light or delicate, just bloomin’ tasty!

Then it was tatty bye to Sean and Bonnie, and off to stay with Lawrence, the company production manager, his 3 dogs and 4 puppies in Causeway Bay.

I had a very pleasant evening in the company of dogs and puppies, and then slept fitfully in the temple to Mickey Mouse that Lawrence keeps as a bedroom. He’s a really cool guy, a happening man about town, but with a penchant for Mickey Mouse that has to be seen to be believed. He’s great.

Anyway. I was awoken by the strains of the mickey mouse alarm clock screaming at me in some unknown language. After footering around with it for some time I finally managed to get it switched off. And then I noticed that the dogs were howling too – scrabbling to get in to the room.

I opened the door and there they were, all three grown up dogs, Soda, Cola and Fanta. They were smiling away and wagging their tails like nobodies business.

Lovely dogs.

Then I looked a bit closer.

One had my dental floss box in its mouth, another my comb. Strewn across the floor were various items from my toilet bag, all chewed, my toilet bag, also chewed and a turd, not chewed.

Bugger.

So I had to try and get them back in to the bag and out of harms way, which I just about managed, although one of the dogs did decide to eat my soap dish and soap around that time.

That too was eventually wrestled from their gums.

Lawrence’s partner came down to see that I was up, it being half five, and he having jet lag.

Lawrence was fast asleep in a lazy boy recliner, completely oblivious to the whole affair.

While Lawrence’s partner kept and eye on the dogs I dived in to the shower for a quick wash, and turned it on, only to have it be very high powered and soak the entire bathroom with one burst of water that went skywards.

Eventually I managed to get a taxi with the help of Lawrence’s man and that was it, I was off to the airport.

Luggage – over weight.

Bugger!

Spoke very nicely to the lady behind the desk, and she gave me another bag to split my affairs in to so as to balance out the weight.

Fab.

Got the plane, no probs.

The captain announced the various places that we’ll be travelling over, including the Soviet Union. So I guess it’s not just a jet, but a time machine too.

13 ½ hours, no worries. Slept 6 hours, watched Little Miss Sunshine and Scoop.

Scoop is not one of Woddy Allen’s best, sadly. I really don’t like Scarlett Johansen’s acting style, especially when it’s mixed in with the over blown Woody acting impostions.

Fly in to Heathrow, on the descent see the ground suddenly appear as if out of no where. The fog was so heavy, you could barely see the wing of the plane. Descending, descending, descending, then Whheeeeech! We’re back up into the air like nobody’s business and the 747 is behaving like a fighter plane.

Quite exciting really.

Then a voice comes over the tannoy and says:

“Sorry about that, we had an aborted landing, there was another plane on the runway. We should be back on radar in a minute or two, when we’ll try to get you on the ground in seven or eight minutes.”

The next landing was fine, and lefty me with barely enough time to catch my connection, which I just managed, just and no more. Thank god, because the next flights were full and then the next day all flights were pretty much cancelled due to fog.

Got in to Glasgow in the evening, Mum & Dad there to meet me, all is well.

It takes another day for my luggage to turn up. The turnaround in London was too tight for my bags.

So now here I am once more.

Thoughts turning from HK to Newcastle and Mull.

Without a doubt working for Theatre Du Pif in Hong Kong was the best professional experience I’ve ever had. Bonni is with out a shadow of a doubt the best director I’ve had the privilege of working with. I’m really pleased with the whole experience, it was absolutely fabulous.

If you have a chance to go to HK do grab it with both hands, I believe that Oasis, a charter line, now do flights for £250 return from London – which is amazing.

But make sure if you do go that you go and stay on one of the islands to get a contrast to the hustle and non stop bustle of Hong Kong.

I leave you now with the imagined sound of Airline cabin music playing in a loop, and wish you all a very merry holly berry and a happy new year.

Awrabest