A Short Film
A pub in the east end of London, England. It is a very old pub in a rough area of the city and its décor shows its age. Low banquette seats, upholstered in a worn red cloth surround small chipped wooden tables. On the tables are metal ashtrays advertising beer. Through cigarette burns and ash can be seen “Tetley’s Ale” and “King’s Head Bitter” among other brands. A pall of smoke hangs low in the room.
From the attire of the mostly male clientele we can see it is the mid sixties, probably 1965 or 1966. They are mostly working class men, some young, some older. The older men are hard-worn looking, working-class nursing pints of bitter. A few younger men are scattered about the place, some in small groups, others with young women. A few of the younger ones are a bit more flash. They wear 3-button suits, narrow ties and shirts with collar pins. A couple wear ostentatious rings and drink ‘short’ drinks as opposed to beer. There is one man in the bar that fits into neither of these categories. He sits alone at a table drinking a whiskey. He’s a handsome, dark featured man, with a relaxed demeanor. His suit is well cut and looks expensive, but more Saville Row than Carnaby Street. He sips his whiskey, thinking, and drags on a cigarette. He’s neither a workingman drinking his pay at the end of a week, or a flash young poser out to impress his mates or some bird. Instead he sits and drinks.
The bartender – who we later find out is named Johnny - pulls glasses from the washer and stacks them on a cloth on the bar. He’s a young man with dark wavy hair, and a slim but strong build. He glances out across the bar and sees his girlfriend wiping down a table. She’s a tiny, slim girl, with light brown hair curled and swept up in a very fashionable style.
A man approaches the bar, he’s a ‘flash’ type. His pinky ring glints as he puts his empty glass on the bar, we never learn his name, so we’ll call him ‘Pinky’.
Pinky:
All right Paddy?
Johnny (turning to the customer):
Fine. What’ll it be? (from his accent we can hear he’s Irish)
Pinky:
Another brandy and dry.
Johnny (preparing the drink):
Two and six.
Pinky puts the money on the bar and turns back to his crowd of friends. Picking up his drink without making eye contact with Johnny, he walks back to his table. As he approaches his friends he raises his voice and calls over his shoulder.
Pinky:
Keep the change, Paddy.
Johnny’s girlfriend walks back to the bar.
Mary:
Everything okay, Johnny?
Johnny:
Yes. Fine.
From his table Pinky calls to the bar.
Pinky:
Paddy! Sarah here needs another shandy. There’s a good Paddy, now and bring us one will ya?
Johnny pours the drink and sets it on the bar. Pinky looks at him, then stands up and walks the few feet to the bar.
Pinky (playing more to his crowd than to Johnny):
What’s the matter, Paddy? No table service anymore? Or is that how they serve ya back in the bogs?
Johnny (waiting for Pinky to get close):
Paddy was my father.
Pinky:
What?
Johnny:
Paddy was my father. Yes, I am Irish, but my name is Johnny – not Paddy. I would appreciate if you could use my name.
Dropping coins onto the counter. Pinky stares at Johnny.
Pinky:
Whatever you say…Paddy.
As he walks away Mary puts a restraining hand on her boyfriend’s arm. He picks up the money and drops it into the till.
The man in the suit has been watching this exchange. He swallows the last of his drink and walks to the bar.
Suit:
Everything alright, Johnny?
Johnny:
Ah, yah it’s fine, really.
Suit:
Didn’t seem that way. What’s going on?
Johnny looks at the man in the suit and considers his options. Then he decides.
Johnny:
Yer man there seems to think that everyone from Ireland is named Paddy. I just tried to set him straight is all. Seems he doesn’t like to be corrected.
Suit:
Oh I see. Give me a whiskey will you, please Johnny?
Johnny prepares a whiskey for the man in the suit.
Johnny:
Three shillings please.
Suit (putting a £5 note on the bar):
Keep it.
Johnny:
Jesus! Are you joking?
Suit (with a wan smile):
Oh, ask around, you’ll find I rarely tell jokes, Johnny.
The man in the suit walks back to his table and puts his drink down. He picks up his cigarette pack from the table and walks over to the table where the flash crowd is. Pinky sits to one side with his girlfriend Sarah beside him. They all look up when the man in the suit approaches. There is a quick and obvious hush over the table as he stands there. He takes out a cigarette.
Suit:
Alright?
The occupants of the table mumble replies and appear as if they don’t want to meet his eye.
Suit (cont.):
Who’s got a light?
One of the lads at the table jumps up and flicks open his lighter for the man in the suit, his hands shake as he lights up the cigarette. The man in the suit drags and then pulls the cigarette out of his mouth. He glances at the man holding the lighter and squints through the smoke.
Suit (cont.):
Thank you.
He looks at the men in the table, each in turn until he settles on Pinky. Bending down he leans into Pinky. His hand on Pinky’s shoulder. With an almost delicate gesture he brushes Pinky’s slightly longish hair away from his ear as he leans in to whisper. The gesture is both intimate and invasive. He rests his hand on the back of Pinky’s neck as he whispers. Nobody at the table or in the bar can hear what’s being said. When he’s done, the man in the suit stands up, glances at the rest of the table, and walks back to his own and sits down. He puts the cigarette into the ashtray and takes a sip of his whiskey.
Before he gets back to his table, however, Pinky stands up and grabs his coat of the back of his chair. He grabs for his girlfriend’s arm.
Sarah:
Hey, what’s goin…!
Pinky:
Shut up you stupid cunt or I’ll leave ya, now come on.
Pinky, without finishing his drink or letting Sarah do the same, pulls her hastily out of the bar. Within seconds the table empties and the rest of his friends leave too.
Nobody else in the bar seems to notice the exchange – or if they do they make a good show of not appearing to. Johnny and Mary stand behind the bar.
Enter a middle aged woman from a doorway behind the bar. She’s a typical East End type of bar landlady, dyed black hair done in a bouffant style, her large frame encased in a tight skirt and a flowered blouse. She holds a lit cigarette in one hand. Coming out from behind the bar she spots the man in the suit. With a nearly flawless show of friendliness she calls across to him.
Ida:
Oooh, Ronnie, I didn’t know you’d come in. And here’s me stuck in the back doing the accounts, oh if I’d have known…
Suit:
Oh, Ida, you know I wouldn’t want to take you way from important business.
Ida:
No, no Ronnie, I hate doing it. I could use the excuse to get a break. Let me just pour myself a short one and I’ll join you.
She turns to Johnny and Mary, her mask of civility slips and she whispers.
Ida (cont.):
Next time one of the Kray brothers is in my pub do make a point of telling me won’t you!
Mary:
What do you mean? Who’s that?
Ida:
Oh, Christ, you are fresh off the bloody boat aren’t you? That’s Ronnie Bloody Kray.
Turning around to walk towards Ronnie, she smiles again, her face a mask of civility.
Ida (cont.):
Ronnie!! So my love what has you out on a night like tonight then eh?
FADE.
NYC
A week ago now, we arrived in NYC. At about 3.30 – the time I’m writing this – we crossed the George Washington bridge into Manhattan and began our little adventure. It was a great weekend I’d say, a very important one in fact for me. I am still kind of running through what all went on and what it means. As you may or may not know, we were there actually to do a course put on by Landmark Education. They’re a company who’s courses we’ve been involved with or taken in the past. For me it’s been some time (like 5 years) since I had anything to do with them, although Eric taking them usually ‘reminds’ me anyway, and I get the value (or annoyance) vicariously from him. I won’t bore you with the details of that, if you really want to know about it, ask me and I’ll talk to you privately. But I won’t blog anything about it here.
But what I will say is that in preparation for the weekend, and knowing what the course was going to work on for me, it left me in a pretty contemplative state of mind. Which, when combined with my recent blog about the new year, and whether I should write anymore on my blog etc. well you can see I was clearly in a ‘what’s next for me’ headspace. And as any and all of you who’ve been to NYC will attest, that city has a strange effect of shaking things up inside you. There’s a sense of importance and immediacy about that city that makes you think (rightly or wrongly) that there’s something going on, and you should be part of it, or be part of some something somewhere. It’s hard to articulate but there doesn’t seem to be any room for complacency in New York City.
Well at least that’s what I feel, certainly after this weekend. The course inspires me anyway to a real sense of what’s next. I’m sure others who take the course would never see that and only find that it causes a deepening spiritual inquiry or a look into their relationship, it’s kinda like that really, you find mostly what you’re looking for and a lot of what you didn’t know you were looking for at all. So while I didn’t go into the weekend in NYC with that in mind, I can’t say I’m that surprised that is what showed up.
Then on Thursday night I hooked up with a ‘friend’ and had a beer and whatnot. We chatted a bit and really got on well. Apart from anything else we connected, because he (Ralph) is a writer (a playwright and director actually). And to be honest there’s nothing like a bit of professional jealousy to get me moving. The weekend, our conversations, the course everything really made me think of what I’m doing with writing (or not).
I spoke about it to Heipel too, and he referred to my earlier blog post and his comment, and we agreed that there’s not much point going around talking to folks about being a writer considering how little I actually write. And in this case I am talking about writing as a product, not a pastime.
When I came back to Toronto I sent Ralph a couple of things I wrote, and he did too (thank god he’s actually a good writer. Hamish knows what I mean when I say this, but there’s nothing worse than when someone you like says “oh I’m a writer” and then shows you their work and it’s shit… because then what do you say when they ask you what you think? So it was a big sigh of relief to know that he’s not crap and I could respect him as well as like him.) But when I sent the stuff to him that I did, I re-read it myself. I went over the old stuff. Yesterday I re-read the play that Hamish and I wrote called Denman Dance. Oh and I was so relieved it wasn’t embarrassing. There are a few places we were a bit, um, earnest, but then plays always sound that way on the page, and don’t make sense unless they’re in the mouths of actors. But overall I like that piece of work and I’m glad we did it.
Today in Starbucks I re-read the novella I wrote a few years back (Butterfly). It was written as part of the 3 Day Novel Writing Competition (which I didn’t win). And I was very impressed with it. I know that sounds arrogant, but I re-read it and I think “wow who wrote this?” Just a few minutes before I began writing this blog post, I finished reading it again, and actually had to work to keep myself from crying. It’s not a particularly emotional end to the book (a bit emotional I guess) but it was emotional in terms of what it meant to me. And what it represents now to me, about who I was when I wrote it, what I’m capable of, what I’m committed to in terms of art, and the divergence between that commitment and the reality of what I do.
So I’ve been casting about for some time now for a ‘what’s next’ and I think I’ve settled on it. I love that story, but it’s a novella, and people don’t publish novellas. So I am going to rewrite it as a full length novel. And I am going to try to get it published. In the meantime, while re-writing it, I’m going to take Bert’s advice and serialize the book for those who want to read it. while I’m planning the book for the next bit, I’m going to continue blogging obviously. But I’m not sure yet if the book will replace the blog (i.e. you’ll tune in here to read the next chapter) or if they’ll run concurrently. Or if the chapters will be emailed out to those who subscribe. I’ll figure out the details later.
So that’s what NYC did to me. I’m sorry if you thought that this was going to be a travelogue, I don’t do travelogues, or photos much actually. I’m an impressionist traveler.
Off to NYC
So I'm off to NYC tomorrow morning. We're driving, so it'll be an early rise and departure (like on the road by 6am to avoid Toronto Rush Hour). So I won't likely be blogging for at least 5 days. Eric has decided that the road trip requires his computer a selection of DVDs and I saw him shopping for 7" LCD screen DVD player too, however I think even he recognizes the idiocy of that.
I just don't think that a 9 or 10 hour drive really requires that much distraction. In any case, we'll have fun I'm sure. And we'll take pics.
So, see you in 5 days!
How do you know when you're happy?
My friend Amber said this to me today in email, in another context entirely than the context of this blog, but still it's a cool quote:
"Savour moments in time when you can just sit for five minutes and suck the ecstasy out of the 350 seconds."
That kind of sounds like happiness doesn't it? I mean is happiness just a matter of deciding you're happy? It sure as shit can't be defined as a state you reach when .. .if...as soon as...something. And if it can't be decided ahead of time (because that's a mugg's game where the goal lines moves on ya), then it has to be decided just when you're feeling it right? Or is it a decision at all. Some would say that it's just you do what you do, and if you feel good, you're happy, and if not then change something and try again. Others (like Amber I'd wager) would simply say that it's a matter of deciding that the next five minutes will be 350 seconds of ecstasy, or that this body, this job, this house, this relationship, this career, are the one that makes you happy.
But before I leave you with the question I was going to ask in this blog anyway, let me just put an etymological bee in your bonnet. Happy, shares the same root as Happenstance... as in accident.
So, how do you know when you're happy?
I've used up the titles
I've used up all the correct titles for when I've not blogged in a while. You'll note there is a "remiss" as well as a "Bad Marky, No Blog" and so on. So I'll just leap into this one "in media res" so to speak. I've not been doing that much lately. Or maybe I have. It's hard to say really considering that I have been busy, (too busy to blog), but not busy enough to have anything to blog about.
I've got a bit of an embargo on talking about work/career related crap at the moment, and I might explain it in a bit, but for now suffice to say that that realm is progressing nicely. Email me or hit me up on MSN if you wanna know the details.
Social life? um well, good thanks, this summer is over it would seem, the weather is cooling, and Eric and I are planning to turn into mid-thirties dinner party fags as he puts it. We've not got any scheduled yet but we're working on that. We have a dinner table that seats 8 so we should use it. So there'll be witty conversation rippling through our 'salon' soon enough I'm sure. And I've begun planning my birthday party. PJ has declared that to be the start of the holiday season this year. It's exactly 4 weeks before Christmas, and we'll have to get a fabulous tree, and some gorgeous decorations etc. That'll be fun.
In other news Eric and I are taking a course this fall. I won't bore you witht the details, but one of the side effects fo this is that we have to travel for 4 weekends as part of the course. Normally people just go to New York because it's the closest but we thought we'd take the opportunity to play a bit. So we're doing New York, Chicago and Atlanta, and then probably San Fran in the new year. So that will be a lot of fun.
In other news. I'm not entirely sure about the future of this blog actually. I'm not saying i want to kill it, but let's face it, I'm not exactly prolific here lately. So maybe it's time for this to evolve.
Part of this feeling comes from a conversation I had recently with another blogger and friend of mine, Joe. We were talking about the writing we do or don't (as the case may be). This blog was meant, originally, to be writing practice. And while it has certainly been that, it has not spawned any actual writing product. That is to say, no short stories, screenplays, novels or anything. And that was kind of the point. Or one of them.
Oh and let's be clear, I'm not punishing myself here, or saying I'm all wrong for not writing. I have been thinking lately that I need to get myself focused again on a product, on actually writing with a particular intention. Or not.
Because the alternative is to keep blogging, keep writing as it comes up in my work, and just not really considering myself a 'writer' or author. Or I could start writing something and just publish it here in lieu of a blog? I don't know... what do you think?
Back To School
Plaid skirts, pencil cases, new shoes, a new backpack that doesn't smell like a left-for-weeks baloney sandwich. These are the signs of a new school year.
For me the new year does not really begin in January; that's merely the end of the Christmas holidays and the beginning of the long, cold, miserable Canadian winter. The year has always began right after Labour Day in September. I can't shake the sense of that from my days in school, which of course, was reinforced by returning to school a few years ago to complete my degree.
I find that the fall has a feeling of possibility about it, that anything is possible, and within your grasp. What do you want to know or learn this year? What are you up to this time around? If the summer is a time of inertia and fun, then the crisp air of September seems to hold a feeling of well, winter's coming, time is moving, better get on with it-ness. If that makes any sense at all.
I don't know if any of you feel that way about it. If you do, I want to know, what are you up to? Any New Year's Resolutions?
