Sunday, 26 October 2008

The meeting went pretty well.

The management company representative was called away on urgent family matters, so it was just me, George, George's girlfriend Junko, and two of the band. The Paddington Hilton quickly turned into the Camden McDonalds and a pub that didn't serve coffee. For some reason I had decided that dressing smartly but a little flamboyantly was the way to go. I looked out of place around the others, in their plain jumpers and leather jackets, like a kid at the adults' table. I realised that I was younger and a little shorter than everyone else. I think the band were in the loo when a guy at the bar, who looked tougher than me, called me over and made me say why I decided to go out wearing a bright blue plaid-looking jacket this morning. He asked me whether I was trying to look ridiculous. I said I was and moved on. Hopefully the band didn't notice. 

It all went pretty well. They said they liked my idea, which was good because I was genuinely worried, but they wanted to make it a little darker. They suggested some other videos they liked. We pooled our resources, and talked about where they could get money, and how we could make it cheaper. We talked about making it in the North (London is horrible to film in for lots of reasons). We talked about how some bits could be done in a studio, hopefully without making it worse. Actors and extras were discussed. We debated costumes, masks and pelvic wear. We reached some pretty acceptable conclusions. Then the pub people kicked us off our table because another band were getting ready to play there and wanted the space. 

Unfortunately someone else we wanted to work with pulled out the day before. In a three-way conference call he began by saying that he didn't believe we could make what we wanted with the potential budget we had. He eventually admitted that he had moral issues with our ideas. He was categorically opposed to about 90% of our basic concept, and a little while later we agreed that he probably shouldn't come to the meeting. I'm not sure whether to be depressed by this, or to take heart from it. It's not the first time one of my projects has been called immoral.

I don't know, I just want to make something good. 

Saturday, 25 October 2008

My room smells funny.

My room has developed a weird smell. It hits you as you come through the door. It starts off as acceptably musty, then slowly develops into something putrid and horrible. What's weirder is that I can't place it. As you sniff around for it it seems to disappear, even from the place you originally sniffed it it, only to lurk behind your back when you give up on it, whispering in your ear and breathing down your neck. It's a haunting smell, an eldritch smell, an ungodly smell. Maybe it comes from the unearthed corpse of an ancient, interplanetary, interdimensional boggart, created and destroyed before the birth of time itself. Maybe it comes from that pile of mouldy old coats in the corner that hasn't been moved for ages. Maybe it's something to do with that live toad I found under my bed a few weeks ago.

Also, in talks to possibly direct a new music video, really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really hope I get it oh god should I write more reallys should I have a whole page of reallys oh god oh god. Anyway if I don't get it I guess I'll delete this bit and deny all knowledge of it later, it's not like anybody looks at this anymore.