(no subject)
Can you believe this? Here I was with one foot in the grave, ready to meet my maker, but something refuses to let me go. Nudgings and pokings and proddings. Comments and spam, and subtle changes in script about my not fading off.
Okay, so it was one nudge and three comments. Consider my exaggerations just part of the fine art of storytelling. I think it's safe to say that I am awful at this. I can't really apologise. I am how I am, am I right? And sadly, how I am is rather hopeless.
This is going to be a piece of shit, but I can assure you, I didn't put a lot of effort into this at all. I knew I shouldn't have been whinging so much about that heat wave. My Gran told me that when you complain about something, everything inevinably takes a turn for the worse. As if the historically accurate and wholly comfortable costume uniform, comprised of 12 layers of thick wool wasn't bad enough, there were the actual war scenes that had to be dealt with, bombings, shootings, mass riots, speaking bad French. The good news is that we're done with all those. The bad news is that filming on this project will be done shortly, and I will once again have to say good-bye to all sorts of wonderful people that I have had the opportunity to get to know over time.
And that's all wonderful and sappy and sweet, but that's not the point of this particular post. The point of this post is, of course, about me. This is where I am right now. When I'm not working, I'm contemplating drinking, but recent tabloid publications have me somewhat weary to go near a pub as long as Atonement is still in production. I don't know if I want to be the cad trying to steal Keira Knightley away from her very tall, very strong-looking lad. Also, I fear that one of these days, I shall end up passed out in a drunken stupor on the floor of a less than reputable drinking establishment, and the less savoury characters in the place might not do the righteous thing by me in that situation. These are the same sort of thoughts that keep me out of the dodgier parts of London when I have a headache and need to go buy some groceries. There are some places I wouldn't want to be if I ever have an early-age stroke.
Why yes, that is how I'm going to end this post. None of those pleasant endings or moral statements. It just stops. At nonsense.
edit. So I lied. I have to things to end this already sad little entry. One, I have a new little icon. And two, shameless promoting. The Last King of Scotland comes out ...soonishly. It's something I'm very proud of being a part of. I heard that quite a few other Scots were up for the part, but somehow, I lucked out. Being younger-looking certaly helped.
And since apparently I'm the only person in the world who can fuck up YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j__SjUxh_R0
Okay, so it was one nudge and three comments. Consider my exaggerations just part of the fine art of storytelling. I think it's safe to say that I am awful at this. I can't really apologise. I am how I am, am I right? And sadly, how I am is rather hopeless.
This is going to be a piece of shit, but I can assure you, I didn't put a lot of effort into this at all. I knew I shouldn't have been whinging so much about that heat wave. My Gran told me that when you complain about something, everything inevinably takes a turn for the worse. As if the historically accurate and wholly comfortable costume uniform, comprised of 12 layers of thick wool wasn't bad enough, there were the actual war scenes that had to be dealt with, bombings, shootings, mass riots, speaking bad French. The good news is that we're done with all those. The bad news is that filming on this project will be done shortly, and I will once again have to say good-bye to all sorts of wonderful people that I have had the opportunity to get to know over time.
And that's all wonderful and sappy and sweet, but that's not the point of this particular post. The point of this post is, of course, about me. This is where I am right now. When I'm not working, I'm contemplating drinking, but recent tabloid publications have me somewhat weary to go near a pub as long as Atonement is still in production. I don't know if I want to be the cad trying to steal Keira Knightley away from her very tall, very strong-looking lad. Also, I fear that one of these days, I shall end up passed out in a drunken stupor on the floor of a less than reputable drinking establishment, and the less savoury characters in the place might not do the righteous thing by me in that situation. These are the same sort of thoughts that keep me out of the dodgier parts of London when I have a headache and need to go buy some groceries. There are some places I wouldn't want to be if I ever have an early-age stroke.
Why yes, that is how I'm going to end this post. None of those pleasant endings or moral statements. It just stops. At nonsense.
edit. So I lied. I have to things to end this already sad little entry. One, I have a new little icon. And two, shameless promoting. The Last King of Scotland comes out ...soonishly. It's something I'm very proud of being a part of. I heard that quite a few other Scots were up for the part, but somehow, I lucked out. Being younger-looking certaly helped.
And since apparently I'm the only person in the world who can fuck up YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j__SjUxh_R0