A Candle for the Fallen…

Only a short post today, because for all that has gone on I just remembered something that has pushed all else aside.

 

Two years ago today my friend, Matt Cullen, passed away after a battle with testicular cancer. It wasn’t a long battle, but like I knew him, I imagine he fought it hard and gave the cancer the fight it deserved.

I always knew Matt as a quiet guy. He was respectful, polite, always wearing a beaming smile, and he had a heart of gold. I hate myself for not being there for him while he was going through his treatment, and if I could I’d go back and change it. But I can’t, and sadly the cancer spread to his brain and ended what was a fantastic life.

I’m not really any good with appraisals for the dead, so I’ll simply say this:

Matt, you are sorely missed. You were a brother to me, and I only wish I had the wisdom to be more like you. I’ll see you somewhere along the road.

 

“I’m into symbolism and blowing shit up!”

Credit to Dave ‘F**king’ Coates for the awesome title to this next entry. Apparently those constitute being a screenwriter. I am inclined to a certain extent to agree.

Anyway, I’m still sitting in the library, still working on this sodding essay. The word count is fine. The quotes are not. I want around 4 quotes and a couple of statistics, but do I have energy to look for them? Not a chance. I’d rather be at home, in bed with a cup of tea and someone to watch a film with. Too much to ask? I think not.

DAMN YOU BOTTEN ANNA!!! Just thought I’d get that in. Heard the damn song in Sweden years ago and its crept back into my head and won’t go away. That and “2 x 4″ by Metallica.

Got a rehearsal for ‘Ungry tomorrow, hopefully going to get some of the cast acting and getting used to each other on a set. Might even bring the camera along to get them used to that, as well as trying out some camera angles for the actual shoot. Must remember to take pictures of the cast so they have a particular outfit and stick to it, for purposes of continuity. No haircuts people!

Anyway, must get back to this bastard essay and get it done, I don’t want to be thinking about this tonight.

Dying Swans, Twisted Wings…

Meh, seems melodramatic, but its a line from an Iron Maiden song, and thus rules.

Right, after 5 hours on the road I am back in Southampton and straight into the library. Met Macina, Coates and The Man Who Would Be Will to plough through this sodding essay. Count so far? Almost 1100 words, need 2000. I think we’ll be here a while.

I think once this fucker is out of the way I shall be sleeping for 12 hours. Social Capital may be relevant and it may even be mildly interesting to those who are inclined to think that deeply about social structure, but I just don’t have the patience for it. Hell, I miss the little psychotic release that Modern Warfare 2 provides when needed. I think, after this session in the library, a session on the 360 will be necessary.

Rehearsal for ‘Ungry on Wednesday. Time to get serious with this stuff.

Lockdown still on the backburner, but I’m thinking that once I crack on with my second draft of Compartment 9 I’ll be back in the mood and ready to thrash some more of that out.

 

2012…a review…

2012 – shit.

Narratives, narratives everywhere, but not a stop to think.

Honestly, 2012 is a pretty film. It’s got lots of flashy effects that, aside from the masses of water effects (especially the stuff of water crashing over the tops of the Himalayas, god was that crap) look relatively realistic if nothing else. Not that they were put to any purposeful use, aside from looking like bringing John Cusack’s character closer to being dropped down the next 500 ft hole. Visually impressive, but otherwise really nothing to write home about. Avoid if you’re a fan of real dramatic cinema.

Elsewhere, Shrewsbury was looking pretty murky. Had a look at the Severn from a bridge, and that river is not far from bursting its banks and turning Shrewsbury into a swimming pool. It’s getting dangerous up here.

Still not finished that goddamn essay. Should really get on that.

“…but you sound like a duck!”

…never let one of your parents try and imitate a Bee Gees song when you’re in a car and there is no opportunity for immediate escape. Don’t ask me why, just take my word for it.

Right, so I am at last back in Wales, back for the weekend to rest, relax, and finish an essay. Damn you Social Capital for stealing my weekend!

Alas, this means that writing any screenplays must take a reluctant backseat in my schedule, at least until I get this thing done. Should have it done by the end of the weekend, then I can relax and let the Wednesday deadline arrive while I sit and get stuck into Lockdown, whilst turning an ‘Ungry shooting script into a scribble-laden mess with my shot notes. I must admit I’ve been rather productive in the actual screenwriting way of things of late. I’m thinking its because Mourners and the Opera are off my shoulders. I need some time away from them before a revisit and an undoubted rethink. Hell, I had another damn idea today, about an old unit of the USAF during WWII, known as the ‘Gentlemen from Hell’. Bad Ad, so many ideas and so little time!

Right, I really should get an early night, off to Manchester airport early in the morning to pick up elder sibling for a brotherly social. T’will be interesting.

Anyway, back to blocking out the voice of the balls!!