Month: February 2025

8pm and I’m trying to trick my brain to bed. All the bed things, the bath. Even clean sheets. The sphinxes are in place.

White and black. Room for me in the middle.

Clean sheets, even. I should go to sleep pretty easily. Tomorrow it is back on an old work train.

The National Grid, with a new STEM outreach campaign. I’m well placed to deliver this content. The majority of my best friends from childhood are engineers of one kind or another now. I’m an actor. In theatre it is an advantage to have a good view of the technical side of the art. I can stay out of the way of stage management. I know how things work well enough not to be a douche. Put things back, take care of the details, hang your costume nicely at the end of the day etc. In film obviously it’s largely a technical medium. Even just getting how you will have to contort your body to get round the camera so that specific shot will work – knowing how to place your eyeline, how to make a natural move that gets you into frame when it matters… technical stuff. It’s about lots more than “doing that feeling”, folks, despite what you’ve been told by people who want to mystify themselves or their stars. It’s a craft. And largely with music and lighting they will “do the feeling” despite you.

Some computer game journo wrote an article about why a big studio boss went with the “in every game” actor despite initially not wanting to. “They did an emotional thing in their tape that none of the others did.” AKA they pulled a trick and you fell for it. Most of the actors that taped would have been capable of pulling the same trick on demand. Taste or lack of confidence in the games medium might have caused them not to do it. When you make a pitch for work and send a tape it’s often tempting to make it broad, as … we can all do the job. It’s only in the last year I’ve started to think how it actually might help to make pitches more specific. I hate closing options, but when there’s no time for rehearsal as with most tv and film just… learn the stuff and spam out a specific clear offer. “They showed an emotion in their tape that none of the other actors did.” AKA “They did a cry when it wasn’t needed and none of the other actors did that so they are the only cryactorperson we’ve ever met.” But that’s the games medium. Lots of the makers are what they call “spicy” these days. They, as an industry, realised pretty quickly that they shouldn’t star in their own videos. Some great game makers can probably be astonished by people who have actual human emotions.

But yeah so I’m already back on the dayjob wagon and shameless about it. We have to live and we have to do things that bring us into contact with not-us, so we get better and better. And then we have to fight the powah. Only a few agents that get the bulk of the jobs, not with one of them? Find a way. I love my agent, wouldn’t shift right now. Maybe when she retires, but certainly never before. She’s a goodie, gets me, I just wish I’d met her a decade before.

Brian and I made an executive decision to free Boo from her cone purgatory today. Suture came out and it’s healing well. She doesn’t seem too inclined to gnaw at herself. And that cone feels like cruelty. She hates it, I hate pretending I can’t take it off. Time to trust her.

Today was about helping some young actors. Six of them, all women, all doing a show directed by an old dear collaborator. Hanna and I believed in things and tried to do them. She’s extremely precise, driven and clear. I worked with her a few times in the early days and it was always insightful and a happy show. She’s directing some young’uns in one of those “oh god I really hope someone comes to this” shows that I did so many of when I was punting for agents. Nobody ever came.

It’s up in Redbridge, and the tribe is coming together to help make it work. Nobody has any money. Alex runs Questors Theatre in Ealing these days, I remember him from way back when at The Finborough when we were young and less sexy. Alex has lent them some crucial bits of set. I was transport. Pick ’em up, drop ’em off. Ealing to Redbridge and honest to god that drama centre really is in the middle of nowhere, driving back while avoiding the congestion charge I might as well have gone to Brighton. Still I’ll likely be back there Monday night to pick up the set again. Nobody else will. And it fits in Bergman. And I’ll get to see a good show.

It will be good too. These guys are recent graduates from Rose Bruford and the scourge of academia has not so badly polluted their training. Lots of old institutions are now turning out critics, people generally not well placed to be in practice, theorists and writers perhaps but from places that used to make actors. The state has taken over. Uncertainty is necessary in a creative grounding. Institutions like certainty. The universities are gradually murdering the vocational actor trainings in the name of record keeping. I think Rose B has still avoided the worst of it for now.

So I’ll go and enjoy a show I’ve had a tiny part in making a reality. Who knows what the continuation will be? The one thing I’m surprised I didn’t have to bring is a hatstand. They tend to congregate in theatres at that level, and nowhere else these days.

I was sad this evening cos it was cold and dark again. So I made steak and chips and played “How Fish is Made” which is utterly pointless. Can’t be bad.

Ten peeyem. I’m in bed. What?

Yeah so Ffi and I had a meeting today. We made an insta for it. @alandffi . Early days and we haven’t been accumulating images. Photographers have taken wonderful shots, but they’ve always been for the client. Now is as good a time as ever to start aggregating what we have. We are trying to make sense of the fact that we have been good at this shit for decades. And we are pricing ourselves accordingly.

I find the whole thing exhausting. It’s like… yeah we can do this, we are good at this, we can deliver to your client and make it fun for them. But we can’t do it for fuck all, and we certainly can’t build new things for you for nowt. I had to learn to put a price tag on myself. Perhaps I also had to learn how to earn a price tag. But yeah, I can sort your entertainment stuff out, and practical up your idea. I can’t be fantasy magic human, but if you are realistic and you aren’t trying to get gold for the price of silver, I can make your entertainment happen better than you thought for a competitive price that likely outguns the cokeheads I’ve had to duck my head for in the past. I’m thinking of a big old door and a horrible coke boy and me doing a fucking great job despite him, timing things perfectly. The problem with coke is people lose perspective. I’m very happy it’s nothing to do with my life, that shit. Arsehole powder.

So I’m home having pitched … something. And I’ve started to see why Jon bailed out. They can swiftly ask for the impossible. Ideas ideas ideas but with no real view on what these ideas can cost.

I want to make everything function nicely for everyone. But that’s just my crap. I’m gonna go to bed now and see where I am in the morning. They are interested in Mel and her snake Tarot, but she quite rightly says “show me the money” and actually that’s the key to this madness. We either get paid or we don’t, and there’s no point doing this if we don’t get paid, we aren’t here for fun.

I need to clear up my wiki etc. Such a huge amount of bollocks. Anyone fancy a wiki exchange?

It’s Jethro’s birthday. The 24th and the edge of summer. Light returning, heat returning. Our little cat friend has got to be a whole week still in her cone. I honestly thought she’d be done by now. She hates that cone, it weighs her down. It’s not the Boo I’m familiar with. Poor baby.

Meanwhile once again I’ve got dental fun. My repeated abscess tooth has carved out a huge well in my gum and bone where infection can develop and grow. Since one tooth got pulled I’ve been waiting for it all to go to crap again. Tonight it is manifesting again oh joy. I’m gonna wait and see if the infection is something my body knows, as it only hurts so much right now and natural is better than artificial. Yeah I’ve got my codeine and two different options for antibiotics should it all go to fuckery. I’ve learned to be prepared as I can’t just randomly take days off work like so many people. I’ve honed myself for an acting career that is even more complete than the one I’m experiencing. If I’m gonna have a tooth flare up I need to have multiple options to destroy it so I can do my job. I’ve still got three courses of Cipromax from the Saudis. But ideally I’ll use one of the gentler courses I’ve hoarded over the years.

I’m gonna try and fix myself with self care first. Early bed, good brushing, all that malarkey. No harm in trying. I’ll try and sleep on my left, but I know that’ll just mean me snoring as unless I can gravity lock myself I end up on my back, and there’s a wall on my left. Still gonna try.

The light was strong today, a statement of intent. We are coming home now, back to a world where we don’t have to pay hundreds and hundreds of pounds just to not be somewhere cold.

I’ve been looking at eBay again today. I bought some cards to resell, and they got shilled up to my maximum bid which was more or less exactly 50% of their resell value and eBay can’t see it. I’ve remembered that aspect of me between jobs where I just start looking at potential harmless profit. Little jobs here and there, whatever the hell is available. I once had a monster observe my odd job economy and think it was common. At the time I was using various tasker websites to bump up income, but largely the economy didn’t work. I dunno where he is now. He owes me £400 in borrowed money and about 6 grand in unpaid wages. He pumped and dumped and jumped. Probably in prison now. Last we spoke it was for a short term loan (likely drugs, it was a last minute panic of his. I used to give a fuck before I computed how much he fucked me for on a job.) I told him if he paid me back £400 I’d consider loaning him £300. He didn’t follow through. Hey ho. Likely that’s that.

I’m off to bed. I’m enjoying the fact it’s J’s birthday. He and I have noticed many curious alignments over the years. There’s still much to do. I’ve got it and there’s nothing you can do about it cos you’ve got it so there’s nothing I can do about it cos I’ve etc etc until infinity.

Spring. February is finally throwing its weight around, or is it Jethro? Either way, a lovely day.

I’m home. Southampton is even quicker to get to than Brighton, believe it or not. Yeah it’s also where the Rotterdam cast got egged outside the theatre for “They’re not normal”, so in many ways the extra half hour is worth it to get to Brighton. “Someone’s car got keyed in our street but they’re an out there drag queen”. “But…” 😦

But … It was a glorious stay. Man things, manfully manned. I’m often very metro in my social habits. But there’s a geek deep down that occasionally likes to come and take things that aren’t serious seriously.

I’m glad it was quick home to my little refuge in Chelsea. Being in my warm flat suddenly started feeling like a very good idea as the wind and weather closed in. We were originally planning to have a morning game session but the coterie was disbanded and I thought it best not to outstay my welcome.

I stopped at Tesco once back in town and bought one of those chickens they can sell cradle to grave for £3.50. You can feed a lot of people out of that screaming horror. I allowed it today. There have been many times I’ve gone and found something freerange for three times that amount or more and felt better about myself. Today my thinking was not well sharpened. I got the bird. And broccoli. And asparagus. And taters. And then I could just go home, be thoughtless, shove it in the oven.

Poor creature was so ill kept the process of cooking split it in two. Still I made much food from it and shared it, stripped the thing of meat, fed it to the flatmates and myself. Sunday roast. Brian even put some Yorkshire puddings in the air fryer. Frozen but ready in minutes. I need to learn how to make them from scratch, those gravy sponges. Surely as easy as a bit of batter and some hot oil. They weren’t necessary for a complete roast in my childhood household, so I still consider them to be luxuries.

Meanwhile Lou is in Essaouira, with sun and wind, playing the adventure card I can’t play right now. I’m enjoying her photos and continuing to be pedestrianAl in London.

It’s just gone 8 and once again sleep seems like the priority. It’s the cold… Can’t wait for spring now.

Ahhh an earlier bed.

Last night it was about 4am when I was trying to make words here, already mostly asleep, thinking about Lou on her adventure. We had been playing games. Last night Moonrakers and then Ticket to Ride Europe. Dan is a game designer and one of my oldest friends. He has adapted a few great board games for PC, tablet, VR or all of them. He’s occasionally used me to voice them too, going right back to his Morrowind mod “Scourge of the Lich Father”. We still align on games and we both still have play at the centre of our working lives. Just occasionally we get together with a couple of other lovely geeky men and we play these incredible board games.

It’s hard to find the time for these things, so you have to make it. These things go in the diary ages ahead. Last time I was in Paris. This time it aligned. February geeky game weekend. I brought Will’s copy of Atmosfear, which has been in my car since Jersey.

Today we walked the dog in the morning. Then bacon sandwiches. Being the nerds we are, there was a bottle of Blair’s Ultra Death. A hot sauce. 1.1 million scoville. I mixed a single drop into my ketchup and it almost killed me. I’m still coughing a tiny bit.

Today we played T.I.M.E Stories, which is a work of genius but it took about 5 hours. Cards and board and four of us. One of us made mai-tais before lunchtime and I thoughtlessly put them away despite knowing full well that it rarely goes well with me to have spirits. Early afternoon, once I was comfortable the bacon and hot sauce was digested, I resorted to the all too familiar means I somehow have normalised as a result of my journeys to Aya. Better out than in. After yesterday, I badly need to be non toxic. I refused the ensuing mixing and I’m in bed already, hours before midnight.

Last game of the day was Atmosfear. It’s atrociously wonderful. The era and mechanics of Trivial Pursuit, the technology and video production too. So camp, so ridiculously dumb. A belarussian “Gatekeeper” doing stuff that wouldn’t get him past round one at drama school. Some deliciously bad acting straight to camera. “scary” things. Obviously a game for kids, but we played it because we knew it can only last an hour. There’s charm there. I don’t think I’d ever want to play it again though. But there’s something about it that aligns with the modern games we have been playing, and something that aligns with how I have started to enjoy making or participating in immersive or gamey experiences. This one would need an overhaul but there are things that can be done with the mechanics and modern technology that might be very interesting. No time in the day though. Too busy earning / playing.

A gorgeous way to reconnect as friends. There’s love in the room, and history.

And now to bed at a normal time. More games tomorrow, but sober as I’m gonna home late afternoon. Boo gets her cone off tomorrow.

Moonrakers. We have started our geek out. It’s board games. Why am I nerding out this weekend?

Lou is in Morocco. An impulse, a cheap holiday.  She’s off on an interesting tip, and she’s only got herself to follow through. I absolutely love her for what it might mean for her possibilities. It came out of the blue. Well done her, I’ve never been to Africa. I know it’s pretty tough for single female travellers. Lou is Lou, she can handle herself. Still it is a question.

Essaoureara, mostly. I’m happy to let her play even if there are online forums saying I should be paying attention to what she does. She’s Lou, she’s fine, she knows what she wants and how to get it.

I’m flat out and it’s almost 4am.. I’ve had to behave like I am ok when things have been strong. Bed is pressing. I’ve been awake shortly three or four times this week. Got to go down.

I’m glad Lou is adventuring. I got to spend time with a friendship group that was largely lost in time. I’m very happy. And absolutely floored. Could try and write clever things but literally can’t keep my eyes open. The last para and more has literally been an effort of will..So many mistakes.. ugh

I’m worried about Boo post op, so my concern woke me up at 4:15 with no way of getting back down. Strangely in my dream I was president Flumpsch. The words I woke with were “You think you can impeach me?” Then I remembered I’m just this guy in London. I was completely aware I was in the wrong, completely aware I was untouchable. Full of love for my dream self, utterly convinced I was right in every way and thinking I’m so so clever. I think I genuinely might have wandered unguarded into his energy. Not a good place. I’ve not been paying so much attention lately to where I wander. Maybe my dream self was attempting – succeeding – some kind of “inception.” I learnt many years ago that I’m pretty monstrous in my lucid dreams, to the extent I can talk about it here without concern of attack. People have tried. But this was a lazy dream, a wandering, unguarded. Best step it up.

It’s horrid to think too much about what is happening, what is going to happen. We have to bin these ideas of “left” and “right”. I watched some eejit in Munich make a meal out of some guy who was outside an abortion clinic in the UK “praying” and who had the book thrown at him cus he refused to leave a legal exclusion zone after over an hour of peaceful “mate I’m gonna have to arrest you unless you move 100 metres over there” “I’m praying.” “yeah but I’m gonna lose my job if I don’t arrest you for praying here. It’s a technical thing, but there’s a new law. You just need to move over there.” “I’m praying. Leave me alone you’re invalidating my etc etc.” So this twit made himself an example, with his costs covered of course, just in order that some initialed moron can bring it up as an example of the UK being off track, cus abortion stuff, weirdly that stuff plays big in America. They are still a very young society in so many ways, young in their religion, culturally. Rich teenagers. Abortion obviously isn’t a trigger issue here… Maybe there are some youth being radicalised online over here now and we will go backwards. But… we all need perspective and the guys driving the bus right now are the extension of incels after they’ve got rich and realised some people can be bought. No compassion. Vast fear and distaste for “other”

The machine in America doesn’t care about anything but America, but we might get left behind by them if we don’t lick their balls. Starmer is enough of a toady that we’ll get carried right until we’re dropped. But how can anyone look at this crimepist as he dismantles that hallowed constitution and think anything but that we are about to dive into a hellscsape for anyone “different”? But… this is us now, the UK are swept up in it until we are dropped.

They even dropped craycray Farage, most likely cos Farage is too reasonable for them. Step up Lawrence Fox, maybe? It’s about resources ultimately so … Blumpfk knows things are running out globally on both sides of the Mexican Ocean. He’s banked on the old system hard though. He’s 100 years oldish. He’s old school oilcentric. But … just take a moment to imagine him in kindergarten. Who did the toys belong to? How did he behave when he didn’t get his way? Was he a nice boy?

Nothing changes but everything changes. We have to start paying attention to the little normalisations. There are swathes of people being umbrellaed into some idea of wrong. Balls. Every single individual, including Scklumpff, must be looked at individually. Take expectation out. Take out fear. Find the hearts and see what they value. The polarisation currently is about “humans” vs “safety from other”. The voice that is concerned about the other is prevalent. “Other” is annoyingly subjective, and has been weaponised as such. ‘human” has also been weaponised, weirdly, and the confusion and amplification of said confusion around ‘identity” stuff JUST LET PEOPLE BE WHO THEY ARE, ALL THE NOISE IS NEGATIVE. Have we entrenched too far? I see both sides… I grew up protective, and would likely have remained so had I not been unsubtly given clear messages that I was too brown to be part of the club, with a decorated Spanish grandfather who fought in fucking WW2. FFS, as they say. But, these people are morons. If I got that, what the hell is reserved for people less palatable to these idiots? Cos they still have a voice, amplified in America through this heavy sad dark selfish hunched rough beast his hour come round at last.

Sorry. Shouldn’t let these thoughts in. But I’ve been up since 4. Met my brother for a pint and then I put my fingers down my throat as soon as I got home. My body doesn’t want booze right now. Sleep? Yeah it wants that. I’ll be down shortly, maybe dreaming into a daytime Potus again, I hope not. Poor Boo. She hates that cone. I think a bit of water and a brush of the pegs and I’ll be flat out. Maybe I’ll find Putin this time. What a pair of old fuckers. Could this fuckery be the death throe of the patriarchy? insha’Allah. And I say that partly to piss off the shuttered and partly cos in the end everything is the will of God, whatever name you have for her.

I flogged this load of broken glass for a tenner today. It’s beautiful, but totally fucked. The remains of Ben’s mum’s Victorian Venetian glass centerpiece. It’s been in a box for ages, ever since Emma fell over into it and broke it. Emma is the reason it came into my possession anyway, she’s the point of contact between Ben and I. It was a perfect storm when she came round my flat, got smashed, and even though it wasn’t in a thoroughfare, stumbled into it and absolutely ruined something already pretty fucked. Poetry to an extent. Anyone else doing that and I would have held it against them, Emma doing it and yeah fine, that’s like Ben doing it. All I’ve been trying to do anyway is find places for these things where they are loved.

The buyer for all this broken glass, she’s at Morley College. She’s learning to work with glass. She’s offered me a memento piece when she gets done working. I’m up for that, I’ll give it to Ben. This stuff is largely just taking up space now. I want it all shifted. And this is exactly what I’m trying to do, where my obsession meets reality, the movement of energetic things, the connection of once loved items to the people who will love them again, without the nasty mess of greedy resellers marking it up randomly based on their assessment of demand, to try and trick good people into overpaying for what they know that good person wants.

“My sister has been asking about her stuff, what you’ve still got.”

Ages ago on a terrible deal, I took a load of random shit my friend’s sister couldn’t sell and I offered to move it on. I did a nice job of some of it and then when it sold I gave her a vast proportion of what it had sold for. She had employed me over the years for odd jobs etc and at the time it did feel natural to help her, to give stuff back and move energy on. I avoided taking some of the things as she was absolutely convinced that some things she had were worth numbers I could never approach. Like my friend in Battersea I instinctively worried that if I sold it for less than what she thought it was worth it might end up coming back on me.

The stuff that’s left of hers is crap though. And the time it’ll take to list it, if I’m only taking like ten percent, it’s just not worth the hassle so … it sits in a corner and stares at me, reminding me to strike better deals with friends.

One of Rhys’ magic cards didn’t arrive at the buyer. Royal mail have lost it even though it’s tracked. I’m giving him 50% value before postage costs for everything of his I sell and actually with all the admin and rubbish attached that seems right going forward. He keeps telling me to give him 50% AFTER costs but no, I’m happy to meet him there. They are cards. Easy to send. My friend’s sister’s remaining stuff though, it is either big and awkward to post, or electronic and pretty much universally missing important parts without which I can’t assess if it works or not. For 50% going forward it’ll be worth it. I might tell her that’s the deal now or she can have it back, but then it’ll just be in storage forever.

I’m gonna go on a push tomorrow just to get this shit out of my house. eBay corner. I’ll drop her what it goes for and ask her advice about things in her world that she might be able to help me with. Why the hell not? She’s in PR. I’ve got 2 major films and one minor in the edit. Maybe that’s where the worlds align, if I can finally broker a story that gets me more work.

I’ve been playing with Boo. She’s off to get spayed first thing tomorrow and I still feel bad about it. I’m giving her fun active playtime ahead of the betrayal. She’s oblivious.

For some reason I bounced out of bed at 5 this morning. There was no going back to sleep. Hangover from being on set I guess, they are early days those filming days. I don’t really get how those famous wreckheads pulled it off back in the day. Perhaps they were still awake. Hair and make-up working hard in the mornings, a little spritz of aftershave, Smint? A shot of vodka. Amphetamines. And off we go again.

I went for breakfast at 11 with Dan. Haven’t seen him in ages. A good fish, in the same struggle. We live pretty close to each other. There aren’t that many people in this area these days from my old friendship groups. They’re all a bit further out, often bekidded or working predictable jobs. Not like this pair of lushes having green eggs and bacon on a Tuesday morning and shooting the shit about who is making what where when why and how do we get a slice of the pie and life and old friends and love and all the things all together. Loads of coffee and then fuck it I’ll drive to Heathrow. Helen lands. I pick her up at the terminal. £7.50 on the car park, timed it well, it’s £6.00 these days for a drop off. Crazy.

I wasn’t gonna drive her to Hastings just as I don’t want to live in my car. Just wanted to see her and shoot the shit again. I’m Wile Coyote now, off the cliff again but still running. Trying not to look down. I took her to Sevenoaks. Talked about Tony Robbins, skiing, life … There’s acting and then there’s all the woowoo and then there’s writing and somewhere somehow there’s a way it can all get crammed into a jar together and labelled “My crazy shit” and you can spread it on your toastface or whatever you do with Aljam these days and it’ll make me happy.

For now though the night has caught up with me and even if the day was warm the night is really not and it has made me so tired even if it’s only just nine. That’s the early rise. This is how it happens. THIS IS YOUR BRAIN. THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON SLEEP.

I shall sleep soon once more, awaken when the sun shines once again, rise into the light. 

Bed bed bed bed BATH then bad warm bed. And tomorrow morning first thing we do unearthly but necessary things to Boo. Yuk.