i have spent the last 6 months trying to make a small impact on my website with my content that hopefully is something different to what is offered by the established networks (as i have no budget there will be cracks here and there in the quality) and seeing as i am not handcuffed by the censorship and regulatory boards my material can be inflammatory if need be depending on what i am thinking at the time. In terms of marketing it out there, I have done the usual promotional routes via Social Networks and sending dvds to the press/column writers but how else can i push the brand further when one has lo/no money?
Do you know those moments where everything seems larger than life?
Where the taste of baked beans rivals haute cuisine? Where the hazy sunlight and slow summer pace make you feel so much lighter you could have lost a stone in
weight. It's as if the great post production supervisor in the sky has
decided to apply a luminosity filter, upped the brightness and
contrast, balanced the audio.
Those moments where you stop and look at something - the light from the
bottom of a glass of water painting mad Kandinsky shapes on the walls
around you, the butter running molten tracks down your baked potato
like volcano lava, the bird song drowning out the sound of the traffic for
the moment. And if you were in a cinema you might notice the beautiful
shot, or remark on the sound editing or visual effects. And in front of
a computer screen going through rushes you might mark it down as
'Definitely Use' and on set even you'd quickly dive behind a camera and
put a lens between you and the magical accidental unpredictable life
that decided to reveal herself at that very moment.
As I left the job interview yesterday, the words by the
kindly woman wishing me off left me with no small sense of irony. In
short I had bombed.
I sometimes wonder about orbits, how we tend to revolve around something or another - perhaps our partner or our family. After a big break up in 2003, I found myself gravitating towards anything that
seemed stable enough to spin around. When that failed, I settled back
and let the reverse happen.
The Art director and I have issues. He thinks I'm not taking my job seriously and I think he's a wanker. It's been a steadily deteriorating state of affairs since midmorning when he caught me pogoing across set on a spacehopper, my wee noggin bouncing up and down behind stage as I propelled myself along an imaginary race track. I didn't know it was a bloody prop and so when he comes up to me bellowing, I chalk him down as having a case of mistaken identity and propel myself towards the distant fire escape, my arse bounding up and down on the inflatable bubble, whilst unbeknownst to me the Art director gives chase, his saggy, pink jowls similarly rippling with the motion of the chase
Bounce, flop, Bounce, flop, Bounce, flop. B…
Active. My right foot stamping down upon the brake, both hands gripping the steering wheel and yanking it clockwise, dragging my Maestro across the empty road and careering through the open gate into Park Royal Studio. Cringe, as something mechanical at the fore of the motor emits a loud, grating bark and my mouth stretches into a grimace as I wait for something catastrophic to happen. Meanwhile the motor trundles on, rattling its way across the car park and spluttering to a halt mere inches from a spanking new BMW.