I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits. I’m going to see Tom Waits.
Granted, it’s in a bloody tent in the bloody Phoenix Park and I’m in bloody Row ZZ, Block 99 or something. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to see Tom Waits. Am I allowed an “all fucking righty”?
Granted also, there are some insanely draconian restrictions on the tickets in an attempt to stop touting:
Only two per person and the purchaser has to bring a passport or driving licence to the gig so they can match your name to that on the tickets. Jesus! All are completely non-transferable so I’d better not get sick or something. There may be fingerprinting and DNA sampling. It’s like Gattaca or something.
Still, I’m going to see Tom Waits.
Someone bumped into me in the canteen and sploshed a good portion of my freshly made Earl Grey over the back of my hand. As the only way to properly drink Earl Grey is sans milk, it was pretty damn hot. I now have sore and scalded fingers.
While I am tough and manly enough to just put up with this, I thought of my fellow customers and decided to have a word with the manager of the place. We talked on the health and safety issues at length and, after considerable discussion, and a threat of legal action on my part, they have agreed that boiling water will only be served at 36.8°C, thereby significantly reducing the risk of accidental scalding.
It may take my colleagues some time to get used to body-temperature tea but I think they’ll eventually agree that it’s a small price to pay for the additional safety benefits.
ScriptFrenzy ended on 30th April. I’m sure that you’re all on the edge of your tenterhooks wondering if I managed to finish. Wonder no more. I did. I now have a feature-length script sitting on my hard drive.
One hundred and one pages completed within the allocated thirty days. I am now fully sanctioned to display the ‘winner’ badge on my website or blog and to wander around with a smug, self-satisfied expression.
Of course, the main problem is that I stopped liking what I was writing at somewhere around page 55. I’m not sure if this was because I was lazy, tired, dejected, slightly peckish, or what, but I know that the second half of my script was a real hassle. I know that there is a kernel of a good idea at the heart of the story and I may well just put it aside for a month and come back with fresh eyes and mind, and some biscuits, for a read-through. Possibly there’s something I can salvage. We’ll see.
It was a useful exercise though. I’m glad I did it, even if the script itself is shite and even if Mrs. Jimmy Page’s Trousers got a bit stroppy about my ‘not spending enough time with her’ for the month. Women, eh? I’m going to write her in as some sort of hideous crone in my next project. That’ll learn her.
