The Daley Rant

I’ve just started a course in script writing in which there’s the expectation that we already have a story idea.  Here’s what I wrote in class recently…

Character description

I don’t have even an idea, let alone a character.  I need a freaking idea.  All I hear is rushing wind between my ears.  And the aircon.  This is not good.  At the current rate, I’m heading for FAIL.  *sigh* I’m pretty sure I’m not cut out for this.

Fkety fkety fk.

ANIMATED BOX.  Empty.  Indeterminate age, but made of cardboard, so can’t be too old.  Like, not ancient.  It talks, but is apologetic for what it says.  Because it’s never had an original thought, that is.

SINGLE SHOE.  Homeless.  Not completely worn out, so not old or shabby enough to chuck away, yet not very useful for anyone with two feet.  Unless they like weird art.

Box meets shoe.  It’s a match made in size seven.

Oh ho ho.

Location

Vinnies in Paddington.  I walked past it the other day and it seems pretty big, so nobody would notice if a shoe and a box came to life there.  Unless the shoe was a Manolo Blahnik and a one-legged model walked in.  Hopped in.

Fk.

I’m writing away here like I have something to say.  This is hilarious and stupid.

Inciting incident

The box falls out of a bus.  Miraculously, nobody has stepped on it.  It’s outside the shop.  The shopkeep walks out and picks up the box, thinking it’d be useful.  It’s a nice enough box.

Meanwhile, the lone shoe gets tipped out of a plastic garbage bag, along with a whole bunch of other crap someone has brought in.  There’s an ’80s board game in there somewhere.  The pile of junk, waiting to be sorted, starts wobbling.  The shoe emerges.  It hops around the store.  It even weaves between people’s feet.  Nobody notices.

Meanwhile, the box has been left on the shelf (har de har har) and is kind of looking at people who walk past with objects in their hands.  It opens its lid like a mouth, hoping to swallow something substantial.  Nobody complies.  Someone with arm full of clothes knocks the box off the shelf.  It drops and rolls across the ground.

The box wants to feel full.  The shoe wants a home.  I want to puke.

Let the record reflect that I’ve corrected grammatical issues in this ‘manuscript’.

I’m writing this crap until I come up with a real idea.  Which better be mthrfking soon, or I’m writing a two-minute animation about inanimate objects finding love in a world devoid of a better idea.

And it’s this mindset that has deterred me from even writing in that most indulgent of media, my blog. *sigh*

…The year 2010 for Scorpio

1. Mysterious-looking dude with mysterious-looking website must have cred: Big love, wacky work, facing fears.

2. Yes but no but yes but…: You may get the biggest break of your career or maybe nothing will change and you’ll be bored with the same conditions, people, and prospects.  You may find love, or maybe you’ll break up, or perhaps nothing at all will happen.  Finances could be good, but they could also be bad.

3. I wish I could write jokes like these: “…if you were not here, there would be no world.  Or there might be, but you wouldn’t know about it…”

…I love things that seem impossible

1. One-man band. Once it was travelling minstrels, or a big outing to a concert hall, then it was gramophones, later tapes, then CDs.  Now I can have entire bands by the thousands sitting in my pocket to carry with me wherever I go, making every tedious task interesting and every empty moment full.  I know this is old news but it’s still pretty amazing to me.

2. Time travel. I can fly for 13 hours and arrive an hour earlier on the clock than when I left.  Why aren’t there headlines about that? (thanks Josh from The West Wing)

3. The truth.  I can know everything about everything ever if I choose the 
red pill.  Omniscience is just so convenient nowadays!

Guess what?!  This isn’t a TTD!  See?  I haven’t forgotten how to write things outside a numbered list.  Yet.

Unfortunately, though, this is a year-in-review entry.  I know, I know, these are annoying and irrelevent.  But I just looked at my 2008 round-up and I can tell you one thing – this one will be shorter.

2009 was easily one of the most arse-kickingest years of my life, if not THE most arse-kickingest (me rite gud).  And most of this is due to magical strokes of luck, rather than any wisdom or cleverness or deserving on my part.  Which is kind of annoying, in a way – it’s annoying to have tried so hard for so long, only to discover that, sometimes, quitting is the best decision you could ever make.

The one thing I didn’t explicitly say at the end of 2008 was that I had quit.  I quit performing.  I didn’t care if I never got on stage again.  I wasn’t emotional about it anymore, either.  I was just done.  Then I got an email from someone I respect a lot asking me if I wanted to be in a cabaret show.  That was one thing I’d never tried and I still loved singing.  So I said yes.  Little did I know what other huge events I’d end up saying yes to as a result.

Then came the job upheaval.  I had a choice to make there too.  To stay on and do more of the same (in a thinly-disguised ‘different’ package), or to quit and see what happens next.  I quit.  And, lo, it was amazing.

Yes, luck, luck, luck.  There’s been a lot of luck flying around for me in 2009…

I was lucky this year that, by sheer coincidence, I travelled.  A lot.

I was lucky this year to discover that some amazing people believed in me enough to put me on stage without me having to beg or to organise it myself – other people actually said ‘yes’ to my brand of silliness.  And, in the process, to realise how much I still love being ‘up there’.  And to find guidance through a most excellent vocal coach.  Yeah, all this stuff kinda rocked.

I was lucky this year because a global financial crisis meant I was granted a second chance at, well, life.

I was lucky this year that, for one mad month at least, I got a glimpse of what life could be like if my luckiness became more permanent.

I was lucky this year that my long-held theory that I could be a freelancer has come to fruition.  So far, so good.

I was lucky that, once again, my resolution to have “more music in my life” continued to be realised.

I was lucky that, all the learning about fun I did in 2008 paid dividends in 2009.

I was lucky that I’ve not only kept all my delightful friends, but I’ve made some amazing new ones who I hope continue to influence me in wacky and wonderful ways.

And I was lucky this year because I, and the people closest to me, have remained healthy and safe.

(actually, my health track-record for 2009 was impeccable – two minor colds… and that’s it.  BAM!)

Luck, luck, luck.  It was everywhere this year.  I have no idea why.  And I have no idea what lies ahead for 2010 – whether it could possibly be as fortuitous as this year.  Or more so.  Or not.

But for this year I am immensely grateful.

…Ingredients for vicarious living

1. Keep your options open. If you decide something, that instantly means you have to do something.  And if you have to do something, you don’t get to be a spectator.  So ignore any twinges of inspiration, forget about having a timetable, and stay in those PJs.  Don’t let life get in the way of your doing nothing.

2. Unlimited supply. Line your every surface with stimuli – books, DVDs, music, games – so you don’t have to actually do anything in order to feel everything.  Any kind of adventure or fulfilment you could ever want is right at your fingertips.  Sure, your skin may go translucent from lack of natural light, and your torso may adopt a spherical shape, but those people in that frame/on that page/in that song are doing more than enough attractiveness for you.

3. Cloak of invisibility. If you’re too noticable in real life, you’ll be too busy being you and won’t have time to experience life through fictional characters.  But if you’re invisible – like a ninja or… someone who’s invisible – you’re free to live life to the emptiest.  Free as a dodo or a pterodactyl.