Tuesday, 19 January 2010

I'll be back

I have not forgotten this blog, I am just working my ass off trying to make the money I never made last year while I was pimping my ass out for raising the money for the film, and generally doing the film, and generally not making a penny and messing badly with the whole concept of cashflow, by sticking everything on American Express.

I've got a heap of stuff I'd like to unravel my brain into this blog on, but for now, it's deadlynz are us, and a heavy application of discipline.

I also did no exercise the whole time we were working on this film and I have this unsightly stress and laziness induced jelly roll, a nasty ass bit of flubber, round my midriff, which could do with a little work as well.

So I'm feeling less Mazel Tof, more Muffin Top

Tom, also, is digging back in at Bystock. He was angry and arrogant at times over Christmas, which is good, I think. But the parents weren't so sure. I wonder if they think it was a bad idea?

Who knows, we try not to talk deeply as a family, there's just too many of us to get in a stew about.

God love em all.

Meanwhile, my ex-boyfriend hates me I think, probably because I repeated some things he told me about telly folk, and because I said Tom had a better sense of humour than him in this blog. Ah well, we hated each other anyway.

Public, that's where you air dirty laundry. Let it breathe!

I'll be back. (Another one of Tom's heroes, pre Lars)...

hit this for hours (moments) of Arnie joy

Thursday, 7 January 2010

big movie thinkings, therapy, family denial and a woman who likes to talk about anal sex

So I had a conversation with this person who I will not name who is right in the thick of it all, it all, regards movies. They urged me to raise way way more than what I am currently looking for to finish the film, in order to cover my marketing back and to ensure that people took us seriously. The person said that what we have actually achieved now needs to be analysed by a story editor to decide which way to take it. Repeatedly, as everyone does, I was told that documentaries make no money at the cinema.

The conversation went on for a long time and does not likely have a value in repeating as I like this person very much and felt very touched that they wanted to help. Names were dropped, in a very unselfconscious fashion, which forced me to think, can I front it out with such people, and be a splendid self-believing compulsive achiever. I felt a combination of bumbling fool, plain excited, and concerned about my working relationship with James and William. If I throw the weight of major ambitions behind Mission to Lars then it becomes a bigger and more brutal organism than the sweet journey we initially forsaw. The sweet journey which it was, admittedly very occasionally, will be lost in any attempt to make a majorly marketable product.

So much argument is inherent in a collaboration, even of this size, and I have always been a highly confrontation averse person. The reason we argued a lot on the trip was not just the pressure of the whole situation, it was also down to mistrust, nerves and poor communication around each other, aka, my poor people skills. I assume feelings like this exist on big projects of any nature, unless we're talking the Disney version of business where everyone drinks coffee and eats biscuits and says, "Great" a lot. I suppose I need to fight on and not shrink away from wrestling out the small print and big ideas alike.

My heart's not in telling the truth in this blog so I am going to stop. It's all looking a bit opaque, and dull. I'm sure what I am really trying to say will surface more clearly at a later date.

Onwards and upwards, much to look forward to this year. Like, umm, my tax return and the spot on my chin getting smaller.

Should get my tests back soon to see if I am a premutation F-X carrier. Which will inspire a lot more focussed thought. We talked a lot about this over Christmas, about all the symptoms F-X carriers display and the family members who may have displayed them. (An awful lot of it was piss taking and general shouty bossiness along the lines of, "No, you are definitely a depressive, I know you are," when someone says they're not. And things like, "Well, maybe she was just like that and it had nothing to do with the F-X". Or, "loads of people are like that, its not necessarily an F-X thing", basically your typical evasive, avoidance rich, science lite, family discussion. No one in the family seems that keen on talking at length or depth though. That's how families get by, isn't it. God, imagine if a family was like group therapy. Erk to the power of 10. Orphan me, now!

Having said all that, the family of Metallica has done an awful lot of group therapy.  I refer you to the most blinding rockumentary ever made, Some Kind of Monster. In fact, I might just ditch my dinner plans and stay in and watch it. Got to go now, have to interview a lady who specialises in, among other things, explaining the pleasures of anal sex. I can't wait.