Perhaps its arrogance or maybe just a blind assumption that people spend as much of their day online as I do, but I did think that everyone I contacted on Face To Facebook would reply to me... eventually.
But like the existence of Father Christmas (spoiler alert!) I have had to accept that this is a blatant and dirty falsehood. Out of seven contacts, only four people got back to me this week and interestingly they are all ladies. This might be down to the fact that this week I decided to pose two questions.
1. What was your first love?
2. What was your worst love?
Maybe women are more prepared to bare their souls than men. Perhaps the guys I wrote to were too busy stripping down motorcycle engines or hunting elk with a spear fashioned from old porno mags to respond. Or maybe they just thought it was a shit idea.
I chose these questions as I am on the verge of finishing a one hour TV pilot script which is essentially about love. Not a very original idea I know, but then I'm also the guy that wrote a sitcom about an average Joe becoming a superhero two months before Kick Ass was released.
This week all names have been replaced with female characters from Beatles songs.
Eleanor Rigby was a classic case of youthful exuberance. Her first love was with a beautiful young dancer, called Lord Albert Spankfudge-Ringworthy III. I should stress that this is not his real name. Eleanor had to travel to the ends of the earth to get over this love. I've never had to do this, although I did once travel to the Lidl in Cricklewood, which is almost as glamorous.
Lovely Rita was a 9 year old female cub scout when she first fell in love. I wish we'd had girls when I was in the cubs. I would certainly have spent less time playing with my woggle, although that was just a pet name for him really. Rita eventually tried to seal the deal using the tried and tested method of giving her paramour a Chinese burn. I have discovered to my determent that this method is less effective when you're 26.
Dear Prudence first fell in love when she was 6 with a boy called Chewbacca. That was actually his real name (*) and this is why sniffing glue and choosing baby names should never be attempted at the same time. They became an official couple. I think being in a serious relationship at the age of 6 could be quite rewarding. You're outgoings are limited to a sherbet dib dab and the odd slush puppy, the rent on Wendy House's is very reasonable and if she claims you never surprise her anymore, a game of peek-a-boo will keep her amused for hours. On the down side you'll probably need help pushing the trolley on your first trip to Ikea.
Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds chose to buck the trend and answered that her first love was literature. I thought this was a lovely answer. I can still remember my own trembling, youthful excitement when I came home from the library with Of Human Bondage secreted under my coat. I'll be honest, it wasn't the sexiest book I've ever read.
Now you might notice that I have described the first loves but not the worst loves. I decided to keep these revelations to myself. For now...
(* Don't be silly, of course it wasn't.)
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Wednesday 17 August 2011
Chapter 4 aka The 4th Chapter!
Greetings faithful Quest followers!
This week I will be replacing the names of the friends contacted with characters from Reservoir Dogs. This is so that I can't get sued. Quentin Tarantino may of course take offence, but I think I'm safe as we are not as yet Facebook friends.
Mr Blue sings in a band called Sleeper Effect and I urge you to go out and discover them right now. As a young Cornish lad I once harboured my own dreams of musical greatness and formed a band called Void. Somewhere out there is a VHS copy of our one and only gig. It's slightly ruined by a lanky knob head with a red guitar who keeps asking for a cigarette between songs and grinning. I can only apologise.
Music's loss was theatre's gain and so I embarked on a career as an out of work actor instead.
Finding a job that you can do between acting work is a very tricky deal. It needs to be flexible enough that you can go to auditions at a moment's notice and will take you back after your two week's playing Rookery Nook at the Chesterfield Pomegranate has come to an unexpected close.
I was very fortunate that I found an actor friendly job in a Bond Street chocolate shop by the name of Charbonnel et Walker - scourge of the Microsoft spell checker. I have the dubious distinction of having worked there for 12 years off and on. Well, more on than off if I'm honest. Mr White is an actor who has weathered the storms of this job with me. He is nothing short of a God send. Mr White is a proper actor, which means that even if we haven't seen each other in months he can be relied upon for a good bit of actory banter and the inevitable moan about one's agent. Sean Penn said changing agents is like changing deck chairs on the Titanic. Then again he's probably never been sent to audition for a Conflict Management Workshop at a German army barracks on Christmas Eve.
I then contacted Mr Pink, who is also an actor and he reminded me of the famous quote about acting "It's a marathon, not a sprint". It's probably more accurate to say "It's a marathon, but instead of trainers you have to wear orthopaedic shoes made out of degradation and shorts woven from missed opportunities. Mr Pink might well disagree with this analysis but then he works more than I do.
Mrs Orange (Yeah, see what I did there?) represents a water shed moment in the Quest because she is the first family member I have contacted. This is a slightly weird relationship as we did not grow up with each other. In fact I only met her a few years ago. She had just graduated drama school and was already doing far better than I was. Despite this, I've decided to like her enormously. She recently suffered a Green Day related injury and is currently nursing a broken foot. This proves my theory that listening to any Green Day album made after Insomniac can only be bad for your health.
After contacting three actors it was perhaps fitting that Mr Brown is my old A' Level drama teacher. I was a little hesitant telling him that I was not, as yet, a Hollywood super star. But it turned out he already knew this. He then paid me the nicest compliment I've had in a very long time. I won't tell you what it is but it reminded me that success while lovely and very important is less important than talent. So maybe I made the right choice after all.
See you next week.
This week I will be replacing the names of the friends contacted with characters from Reservoir Dogs. This is so that I can't get sued. Quentin Tarantino may of course take offence, but I think I'm safe as we are not as yet Facebook friends.
Mr Blue sings in a band called Sleeper Effect and I urge you to go out and discover them right now. As a young Cornish lad I once harboured my own dreams of musical greatness and formed a band called Void. Somewhere out there is a VHS copy of our one and only gig. It's slightly ruined by a lanky knob head with a red guitar who keeps asking for a cigarette between songs and grinning. I can only apologise.
Music's loss was theatre's gain and so I embarked on a career as an out of work actor instead.
Finding a job that you can do between acting work is a very tricky deal. It needs to be flexible enough that you can go to auditions at a moment's notice and will take you back after your two week's playing Rookery Nook at the Chesterfield Pomegranate has come to an unexpected close.
I was very fortunate that I found an actor friendly job in a Bond Street chocolate shop by the name of Charbonnel et Walker - scourge of the Microsoft spell checker. I have the dubious distinction of having worked there for 12 years off and on. Well, more on than off if I'm honest. Mr White is an actor who has weathered the storms of this job with me. He is nothing short of a God send. Mr White is a proper actor, which means that even if we haven't seen each other in months he can be relied upon for a good bit of actory banter and the inevitable moan about one's agent. Sean Penn said changing agents is like changing deck chairs on the Titanic. Then again he's probably never been sent to audition for a Conflict Management Workshop at a German army barracks on Christmas Eve.
I then contacted Mr Pink, who is also an actor and he reminded me of the famous quote about acting "It's a marathon, not a sprint". It's probably more accurate to say "It's a marathon, but instead of trainers you have to wear orthopaedic shoes made out of degradation and shorts woven from missed opportunities. Mr Pink might well disagree with this analysis but then he works more than I do.
Mrs Orange (Yeah, see what I did there?) represents a water shed moment in the Quest because she is the first family member I have contacted. This is a slightly weird relationship as we did not grow up with each other. In fact I only met her a few years ago. She had just graduated drama school and was already doing far better than I was. Despite this, I've decided to like her enormously. She recently suffered a Green Day related injury and is currently nursing a broken foot. This proves my theory that listening to any Green Day album made after Insomniac can only be bad for your health.
After contacting three actors it was perhaps fitting that Mr Brown is my old A' Level drama teacher. I was a little hesitant telling him that I was not, as yet, a Hollywood super star. But it turned out he already knew this. He then paid me the nicest compliment I've had in a very long time. I won't tell you what it is but it reminded me that success while lovely and very important is less important than talent. So maybe I made the right choice after all.
See you next week.
Tuesday 9 August 2011
Chapter 3: The concluding part of the ongoing saga!
I've never really considered myself the type of guy that jumps in without thinking. Although, I did once accidentally buy an electric razor on ebay that I thought I had just been browsing. I emailed the seller to confess my mistake and call off the deal, he respectfully declined my request and called me a "fucking time waster". So with a heavy sense of moral responsibility I accepted my foolish purchase. When it arrived it didn't work. I grew a goatee and never bought anything on ebay again. Lesson learned.
And yet despite my overly cautious nature I cavalierly launched my Face2Facebook campaign last week with a pocket full of dreams and a handful of biscuits.
I reasoned that as long as no major UK wide news event broke at the same time, simultaneously involving and implicating Facebook and Twitter, I would be fine.
I can't write this without mentioning the riots. Not just because it'll make me look like a self obsessed douchebag but because once Hulk Hogan has expressed his opinion on an event it becomes too big to get around. Much like Hulk himself.
The original intention of Face2Facebook is to explore how we have all of these "friends" and yet we are completely unconnected to our fellow man. But over the last 24 hours I have seen whole communities using FB and Twitter to check on each other's safety, organise cleanup projects and post information about how to get home safely. I currently live in Leicester, which is so far trouble free, but after 13 years in London I still see it as my home town and frankly without social networking sites I would be completely out of the loop and frantically worried about my friends.
Even the humble text message has played it's part. How else would I have discovered that my non-Facebook using friend Dan was hoping to squeeze into his girlfriend's leotard and take to the rooftops dolling out justice and demi plie's in equal measure? That's right Dark Guardian, your secret is out.
There'll be a lot of talk over the next few weeks about social networking and how it can be used by bad people to do bad things. And it's right to have that discussion. But I'm humbled to see how it's been used for good over the last 24 hours.
But worry not my faithful followers, I promised that I would blog about the people I contacted last week and so I shall.
I wrote to the first five people on my friends list. One got back to me. That's right. One. The other four have their reasons and they are all good. When they do write back, rest assured you will hear all about it. In the meantime I would like to say to that Facebook friend; thank you for getting back to me. It was lovely to hear from you. I'm glad your dog, Mr. Sizzle has had his chakras realigned and I hope his job interviews are going well.
Until next week.
And yet despite my overly cautious nature I cavalierly launched my Face2Facebook campaign last week with a pocket full of dreams and a handful of biscuits.
I reasoned that as long as no major UK wide news event broke at the same time, simultaneously involving and implicating Facebook and Twitter, I would be fine.
I can't write this without mentioning the riots. Not just because it'll make me look like a self obsessed douchebag but because once Hulk Hogan has expressed his opinion on an event it becomes too big to get around. Much like Hulk himself.
The original intention of Face2Facebook is to explore how we have all of these "friends" and yet we are completely unconnected to our fellow man. But over the last 24 hours I have seen whole communities using FB and Twitter to check on each other's safety, organise cleanup projects and post information about how to get home safely. I currently live in Leicester, which is so far trouble free, but after 13 years in London I still see it as my home town and frankly without social networking sites I would be completely out of the loop and frantically worried about my friends.
Even the humble text message has played it's part. How else would I have discovered that my non-Facebook using friend Dan was hoping to squeeze into his girlfriend's leotard and take to the rooftops dolling out justice and demi plie's in equal measure? That's right Dark Guardian, your secret is out.
There'll be a lot of talk over the next few weeks about social networking and how it can be used by bad people to do bad things. And it's right to have that discussion. But I'm humbled to see how it's been used for good over the last 24 hours.
But worry not my faithful followers, I promised that I would blog about the people I contacted last week and so I shall.
I wrote to the first five people on my friends list. One got back to me. That's right. One. The other four have their reasons and they are all good. When they do write back, rest assured you will hear all about it. In the meantime I would like to say to that Facebook friend; thank you for getting back to me. It was lovely to hear from you. I'm glad your dog, Mr. Sizzle has had his chakras realigned and I hope his job interviews are going well.
Until next week.
Tuesday 2 August 2011
Chapter Number B: The Adventure Begins To Continue...
Imagine if you will the great adventures of all time.
Luke Skywalker stumbles upon a plea for help from a beautiful Princess. He hooks up with a crazy old wizard and... does nothing.
He puts old Ben Kenobi on a Megabus to Mos Eisley and spends the rest of life on his Uncle’s farm eventually getting caught in a compromising position with an R2 unit after drinking too much blue milk on New Years Eve.
Or take King Arthur. Fulfilling the prophesies of Merlin he draws the sword Excalibur from the stone and proclaims himself the once and future King of Britain.
He then sells Excalibur on ebay to a guy called Loverman22 and uses the money to go back packing around Thailand, comes back and gets a job in marketing.
It just doesn’t fit does it?
This is the situation I now find myself in. A year ago I posted a blog pledging to contact one of my Facebook friends each day, make some kind of direct, personal connection with them and at the end of the week I would blog (humorously) about what I had discovered.
It was called... Face To Facebook.
The response within the online community was nothing short of mildly interested. I was poised on the verge of greatness. The blog would lead to a stage show in Edinburgh, that would in turn lead to a book, then a DVD, finally a movie with myself being played, naturally enough, by Robert Downey Jnr. I would then receive a Knighthood, eat a Mr Kipling’s cherry bakewell and go to bed. I was finally taking my life and my career in my hands – nothing, but nothing was gonna stop me now!
I managed to contact three friends before the whole thing fell apart.
What happened you ask? I’d like to blame the recession. I’d like to blame being made redundant from my job, the pressures of being an out of work actor, my budding stand up career (8 gigs and 6 laughs so far). I’d like to blame David Cameron’s B&Q Society.
I’d like to blame all of these things. But the truth is I’m a very lazy person and
I got distracted by watching Frasier. For a year.
My intention was to make some sort of statement about how we are plugged in 247 and yet we have never been more lonely. I realise now that my real motivation was the fact that nobody ever texts me.
Well never let it be said that I learn from my mistakes. Like a phoenix from the ashes or a re-booted Hulk movie I’m having one last shot at the big time.
I’ll start from scratch at the top and work my way down as promised. I promise not to cull anyone until my quest is complete. Get ready Facebook friends. It’s coming...
Luke Skywalker stumbles upon a plea for help from a beautiful Princess. He hooks up with a crazy old wizard and... does nothing.
He puts old Ben Kenobi on a Megabus to Mos Eisley and spends the rest of life on his Uncle’s farm eventually getting caught in a compromising position with an R2 unit after drinking too much blue milk on New Years Eve.
Or take King Arthur. Fulfilling the prophesies of Merlin he draws the sword Excalibur from the stone and proclaims himself the once and future King of Britain.
He then sells Excalibur on ebay to a guy called Loverman22 and uses the money to go back packing around Thailand, comes back and gets a job in marketing.
It just doesn’t fit does it?
This is the situation I now find myself in. A year ago I posted a blog pledging to contact one of my Facebook friends each day, make some kind of direct, personal connection with them and at the end of the week I would blog (humorously) about what I had discovered.
It was called... Face To Facebook.
The response within the online community was nothing short of mildly interested. I was poised on the verge of greatness. The blog would lead to a stage show in Edinburgh, that would in turn lead to a book, then a DVD, finally a movie with myself being played, naturally enough, by Robert Downey Jnr. I would then receive a Knighthood, eat a Mr Kipling’s cherry bakewell and go to bed. I was finally taking my life and my career in my hands – nothing, but nothing was gonna stop me now!
I managed to contact three friends before the whole thing fell apart.
What happened you ask? I’d like to blame the recession. I’d like to blame being made redundant from my job, the pressures of being an out of work actor, my budding stand up career (8 gigs and 6 laughs so far). I’d like to blame David Cameron’s B&Q Society.
I’d like to blame all of these things. But the truth is I’m a very lazy person and
I got distracted by watching Frasier. For a year.
My intention was to make some sort of statement about how we are plugged in 247 and yet we have never been more lonely. I realise now that my real motivation was the fact that nobody ever texts me.
Well never let it be said that I learn from my mistakes. Like a phoenix from the ashes or a re-booted Hulk movie I’m having one last shot at the big time.
I’ll start from scratch at the top and work my way down as promised. I promise not to cull anyone until my quest is complete. Get ready Facebook friends. It’s coming...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)