A Tired 11
I’ll be honest, I really have very little to write about today. I have just been on an epic dispensing of emails to agents and managers in LA and London. In the last five hours I have sent twenty emails. It may not sound a lot, but I have been researching each agency in detail, AND I have been writing each one individually, so as to erase the sense that they have just been sent a chain mail. Sure, they say the same sort of thing, but I’m banking on the fact that I hand-wrote each one carrying a * vibe * that they will appreciate. If not; well, bugger. I guess. I have been listening to Ella Fitzgerald’s best hits, and it wasn’t until I zoned back into the present that I realised I was buried deep into her back catalogue that I thought I should change the task. So this blog serves largely as a buffer between me and my business. Honestly, some of these flaming people had better get back to me. I realise that I have included a link to this site in all my emails so, in the very slim chance that someone is actually reading this right now - I don’t mean you are flaming people, I was referring to the other flaming people. Please represent me. Honestly, I don’t think that I would be able to reply to the volume of people that are approaching these agencies, but it does sometimes get one down when one sends off a large deposit of carefully crafted elevator pitches, only to get nothing back from the void. Probably a case of letting it not bother you, keeping a stiff upper lip, and moving on. Yes, I think I’ll do that.
Nice things that have happened in the last chunk of time since I wrote anything:
I went to a cinema with reclining seats, tables, and table service. I saw Edgar Wright’s new film and bloody loved it. I didn’t realise it was Diana Rigg’s final film, and it felt so lovely to be watching her again.
I realised that LA has ruined my sense of expensive and cheap - I thought it was reasonable that somewhere should charge me $14 for loaded fries. But that is basically £11 for chips with dips spread all over them. They were lovely, but one can hardly call them reasonable.
I got told that I might have come into contact with someone with COVID at school but as long as I feel fine, I can return to school. I feel fine, and it’s been 6 days.
One of my favourite teachers in the world told me that I was an inspiration to her, and I nearly cried. She probably would have told me to let go and follow that impulse. But my bedroom is not a stage, and I shall stay closed off and masculine in here. Go MAN!
I went to watch a Lakers game at the famous Staples Centre. We couldn’t find our seats, so just walked in and sat in some seats that were only about twenty rows back from the court, and absolutely not for us. But no one challenged us, and we got to watch most of the first quarter there. The rightful owners turned up eventually and we scarpered. To the very back of the stadium, where we belonged. The Lakers lost, but it was awesome to watch some sporting legends play.
I bought a new pair of trousers.
I partied in a strange man’s house in the Hollywood Hills. The story is longer and less weird than that, but “I heart intrigue” - Gina Linetti, Brooklyn 99.
It’s 10pm. I’m going to try and muster some more emails and then turn in. There is a new series of What We Do In The Shadows that I am barreling through at a rate of knots.