‘Spaces Between (The Prologue From…)’ - Greyhands
Finally got around to making a finishing stamp. It’s a stylised version of my initials that I’ve been using for about seven years now (an Olde English “JF” mashed into one letter) cut out of a one inch cube gum eraser with a scraping razor. I kinda like the rough-and-ready look.
Ladies and gentlemen, my first film since being a student.
I’m very excited to have this finished! I got to work with some very talented people, most of whom, like me, are just starting out in the film world. Despite the minuscule budget, this film has come out really nicely and I’m optimistic about its chances in competitions throughout the rest of this year.
Please take the time to watch it, and let me know what you think. And if you like it, I’d love you to show other people who might also like it. After all, I make films for people to enjoy.Stream of Consciousness #2
Well, I forgot to do the stream of consciousness thing yesterday, so I might do two today to make up for it. Coffee hangover. Self diagnosis. No cure. No treatment. Two words. Slow dance. So alone. Tell story. So tired. Still morning. Warming up. Getting going. Preparing slowly. How long? So brief. Dragged out. No substance. Negative space. Rolling hillside. Expensive tea. Flat broke. Television’s boring. Lonely couch. So uninspired. Okay, enough of the two words thing. Do you remember when we were friends? I think you do, but I’m not so sure. I’m not sure if saying anything would be a good thing. We both talked magnificent bullshit. Everything has changed since then though. Is this sounding too cliché? I think that last part was. Oh well, it’s there now. The permanency of everything I write worries me a bit. But it’s like life, I guess. You do what seems right in the moment, and then the moment passes and only then can you see what you did in context. Only then can you really regret anything. I don’t think I have many regrets. Mostly guilt. I think regret for me is more about decisions you make, whereas guilt is attached to more impulsive things. I feel guilty as all hell about how angry and violent I got as a child. And I hope to no end that I never regress back to that. I have my moments, and I feel guilty about each one of them, no matter how justifiable. Mind you though, I never can really justify anything because every justification I give feels like a weak excuse. I think it’s due to how I was brought up. But that is just a weak excuse. That particular reason is one I can never give because of the big hypocrisy it’s attached to. I won’t really go into that though. This stream of consciousness has gotten personal enough for now. I mean, I don’t have any real problem with getting personal, but as my last stream eluded, I just don’t think anyone cares enough for it to be worth bringing it all up online. I’ve never had any major traumatic problems. I thought I was depressed for a while, and then my mum and my (then) fiancée thought so too. The guy I went to about it said I probably wasn’t, but Amy still thinks I might be sometimes. I think. I haven’t asked her what she thinks about it in a long while. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m not huge on the idea of going on meds. I’ve seen too many people who are on meds wanting nothing more than to be free of them. I know myself well enough to know it wouldn’t take long for me to want to not rely on a pill to make me happy. Anyway, this is staying personal. I have to reach the end of the page somehow I guess. Talking about personal stuff seems to be how I ramble. When I was in high school, year eight or nine – I like spelling out numbers rather than using their symbol – I decided I wanted to be able to type faster and more accurately because I was tired of being the slowest in the class all the time. So I started writing a novel about a fictional character not entirely unlike myself who was in slightly different circumstances to me. He had different friends, was actually in a band, rather than just talking about one. He eventually got the girl, but that was at least eighteen – I love the way that number looks spelled out – months before I did. Anyway, originally, I was half-planning to write about being on hold with Centrelink yesterday, but obviously that hasn’t worked out. Maybe I’ll do it this evening. I mean, I don’t have to. I can write whatever I want, so long as it comes into my head in the moment and I don’t get rid of it. I think NaNoWriMo has helped me to write like this. This time has been much more cohesive. My sentences are getting shorter as I reach the bottom of the page. Shorter sentences. Shorter. And. Shorter. No, I can’t keep doing that or I’ll never get there. Only a few lines left now. So tired still. Haven’t slept properly in a few nights. I should put some music on soon. I need some new music. Something fresh and refreshing. Something that resonates like Death Cab For Cutie did when I first heard them. Anyway, I’m across the line now, so I’ll type at you, the abstract audience, later tonight. Not that time means anything here given that people will be reading this tomorrow as well (maybe) and many days after (maybe).Stream of Consciousness #1
This is shit. why am I awake right now? I should be in bed with my wife, asleep. I waited so long to have a wife to be asleep with and now that I have one I’m doing the same old shit that I always used to and no sleeping. Where did my muse go? The fucker left me stranded without leave. The fucker. The fucker. The fucker. Shit. Poop. Balls. Tits. Arse. Lemons. Tickford. Beetles. Rangers. Making my own static. Making my own static. So tired. So awake. Which am I? The fucker. The fucker. This makes no sense and this stream of consciousness stuff is bullshit, but I know it will help me get going again. Maybe I should post this to Tumblr? Gratuitous question mark. No-one would take notice. No-one ever really does on Tumblr. But I guess that’s kind of what I like about it. Tumblr, like this load of bullshit, it purely about throwing stuff out there and getting it out of my system probably in some kind of attempt to become more creative; or rather, fuel my existent creativity. The tank is empty. I’m running on fumes that won’t catch alight. I’m empty. Void. Vacuous. Empty empty empty. Musnt’ stop writing. If I do it’s not stream of consciousness anymore. Short film shoot on Friday. Hope I’ve got my shit together. Hope I’ve got my shit together. Must make sure they know we’re coming to clean up their backyard a bit. He knows, but his parents probably don’t. Need to call them tomorrow. I need to get out of the house. I need to write stream of consciousness stuff every day until I can think again. All this time and energy building up my brain to think more and about deeper things and the stupid fucking thing still stalls on me. I think I will post this to Tumblr. Sorry about all the swearing. I’m specifically talking to Amy now. She’ll probably take the time to read this. I wonder if by the time you read this if I will have told you that I wrote a stream of consciousness thing and posted it to Tumblr. Pinwheel. Why would I write the word “pinwheel”? Why? Y? Z? ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ… I don’t think I’ve ever written out the alphabet like that before (as quickly as I can). What and odd finger pattern. I wonder if the term “finger pattern” makes sense to people who don’t play bass… are there other instruments that use finger patterns? Probably. Guitarists who aren’t playing chords would use them I guess. One note. One Note. One note. A tone, a message, an item, an entity. NTT. 10SE. South East. Alpha Bravo Charlie Delta. What am I even saying? Looking for the patterns in static. That is still the best possible title for my Tumblr. I wonder how many people knew that that was the title of my Tumblr? More people reading this would probably recognise the lyric rather than that as the title of my Tumblr. Why am I doing this? It’s not to entertain. I think I already answered that question. Maybe I won’t post this. Should I even save it? I probably should. It’ll make it more likely that I’ll keep this up later. I probably should post it. Then people will know what I’m intending on doing. I’m in a rut. I’m in a rut. I’m in a rut. I’m pursuing more things than ever before and I’m in a rut. I probably need to actually finish something. I need to finish what I start. Why don’t I ever do that? I guess I’m impulsive. And distracted. And everything. I create because I know no other way to exist. And yet here I am, stuck. But I’m trying to un-stick myself. Is it working? How should I know yet? So many questions. Tin foil. That was what those kids in high school changed their friend’s password to when they hacked his login. Who would guess tin foil as a password? Especially in Australia. It’s Aluminium Foil. Not Tin Foil. And for crying out loud it’s AL-U-MIN-I-UM! Not AL-U-MIN-UM! It has an I so you say the damn “I”. Mind you, that’s trying to apply logic and reason to the English language which is such a tangled mess that logic requires so much knowledge of the origin of each word to be worthwhile. And yet, it is one of the tools I can use most proficiently to express anything. Which, as does this stream of consciousness, in a way, reflect on my own tangled mind. The end for now.My Last Creative Venture as an Unmarried Man…
…was the first draft of my fourth NaNoWriMo novel ‘The Wonder Room’. After the most insane December of my life, an interesting January and a fruitful first few days of February, Amy is reading through this first draft. I printed it off and had a quick flick through and a re-read of a few sections, and already, I’m getting excited about this novel again.
This has never happened before.
Usually, when it comes to stories - even short stories - I lose interest after the first draft and refuse to do a second. This one, however, I’m feeling better about after reading a bit of. I’m still certain that with quite a bit of work, it will turn into a publishable novel and then, with enough luck, a published novel.
Amy is the only person other than myself that I am allowing to read through the first draft. But when the second draft is done, I’ll need a few people whom I trust not to steal it to read through it and give me some more objective feedback. Amy’s great at being honest, but her tastes often differ from mine in these things, and she knows me so well that she sees me in every single character I write. (What can I say? I put a lot of myself into my creative ventures.) If you’re interested in eventually reading through what I’ve got, drop me a line and I’ll keep you in mind for when it’s ready.
This, in conjunction with my gig as Greyhands going really well, people liking the wedding video a lot, pre-production for a short film I’m directing also going really well, and having a couple of music videos coming up, is giving me real hope for my future as a jack of all arts! Maybe, just maybe, I can get this to work…
Ack! I totally realised I never posted this out!
This is a 4 minute video I cut together using the footage taken at my wedding. It’s been on YouTube for like, three weeks now and I never posted it to Tumblr!
Anyway, GET EXCITED!
Greyhands - ‘Still Falling’
Live at the Ed Castle Hotel, 2/2/2012
The gig went really well! So well, I’ll probably look into doing another in the near future.
I was told that the cover I did of U2’s Running to Stand Still was liked better than the original by one audience member and gave another chills. As for the originals, lots of people told me their favourites, and no-one mentioned the same one twice (more or less).
Video footage is on its way.