having to go a short ways, having it take a long time

having to go a short ways, having it take a long time
Current mood: mischievous

I cried twice in the past week, once on the beach in Bournemouth, late at night, then again last night in a crowded theatre.

I'm tired of stubborn advice. The kind your mother would give you. "It's going to be alright honey, everything will work out." "How about you just keep trying?" or "Don't worry, things will get better." Advice like that is cheap, easy. Small talk.

I'm tired of adages and euphemisms. For the first time in my life I'm starting to feel like I'm doing it just for the money. And I've never had the money to do anything for.

We are driving through the countryside, from Sheffield to Derby. Almost the end of February but the grass is green and the sky is littered with sun lit cotton balls. Last night, my friend Glen told me that the island of England has this dark, black force that drags you down, makes you feel weary, uninspired, uncomfortable. I've been feeling that for a week, just didn't know how to put my finger on it. But this morning, with weather typical of a early spring day in New England, somehow my mind doesn't hurt per the usual.

Yesterday Isaac and I talked about what we want, if wishes were being granted. A year ago he wanted a wife and a career in music. Now he has both and said he doesn't need anything else. I want to be happy and I want to find a place to live. Moving around is taking its toll. Finding a community, a small town, with brick buildings and old storefronts habited by mom and pop breakfast joints, book stores, a river, characters.

Sometimes I just need a change of pace.

Bournemouth: Lost in Translation

Even though we all speak the same language, I'm lost in translation. Simple conversations often take a few "Pardon me"'s before I can decipher what we're actually trying to discuss. Bournemouth is on the ocean, or maybe the channel. I still have no idea where we are. But I see water. And gulls. I guess that makes me feel a little better. If I need an escape route I know where to go.

The Feeling may not be my type of band but they are great performers and musicians. They outperformed the Fray in the states this past fall and they are 100% outperforming them here. This is exactly what needed to happen. The Feeling rehearsed before their tour even began. What a novel concept. There is a lot to be said for professionalism. Most people in life don't expect anything to just happen to them or to come their way. I've seen it work the other way and it is nice to realize again that we are all just as good as we actually are, and no better until we make it that way ourselves.

My creative juices have stopped flowing. Imagine being on point all day long, every day, using every synapse in your mind to make things look intriguing and fascinating, no matter your subject matter. I wish people would respond to the camera, use it, interact with it. You can't tell a story with no words and no actions. Well, maybe no words, but the actions have to be pretty powerful and they just aren't.

Where are you? What are you doing?

a record review from the UK

“They’ve sold more than one million albums in America, and it isn’t hard to see why: the Denver band make music that would struggle to wake the horses, never mind frighten them. They are co-managed by the son of a former Sony BMG bigwig, and you might conclude that they’d have to be spectacularly bad not to go platinum with a leg-up like that. What’s truly offensive about the Fray is the complacency and lack of invention in the music: song after song rolls by, with Isaac Slade pounding his piano and emoting emptily in his Curtis Stigers whine, and each is as crease-free, as people-pleasing, as the last. These are songs for the shopping mall and the elevator; life and nature observed from an air-conditioned automobile. Sadly, they’re going to be huge.”

pounds for pounds

“It’s a giant sausage party in here”, said one security guard to another.

Touched down in Norwich on Thursday afternoon. Everything looked sunny and I wore just a sweatshirt comfortably. Found Brian and Jimmy in a Public House (Pub to you blokes), saddled up to a pint or three of beer and I joined them. We wandered back to the Maid’s Head hotel in the early afternoon to catch a few winks of sleep before dinner with the rest of the wild bunch. The Maid’s Head was a hotel put together of several buildings dated pre 1850 and it was as if the architect of the place had completely disregarded the fact that none of these structures had been built on the same levels, heights, and dimensions. At points you’d cross through a crouched doorway and stumble upon another hall of rooms, with a floor that was either a few steps up or a few steps down.

“Here! Knock a hole through this wall chap, we’ll put more rooms here. The floors don’t match up. Don’t worry about it mate. Pint?”

We tasted sweet Indian food that evening. Curry was originally introduced to the British as a way to disguise the nasty rotted meat that the colonials were eating; disguising the maggots and other various animals living in a block of salt pork. I ate red curry with vigor.

Woke up in the morning to the arrival of the rest of my friends who needed a shower and thus our day had begun. Taxi rides on the other side of the road and hello Norwich University.

Fioana knows how to cook. Just follow your nose to Taste Buds Catering from Glasgow whenever you are in this neck of the international woods. They travel with the headlining band and prepare up fresh, new meals daily. Every day a new run to the grocery store or market to conjure up a menu that you wouldn’t even cook at your own home (unless you have a cook who cooks at your own home). I enjoyed cups of tea and assorted nibbles from the dining room all day while we set about getting the show in order. There were t-shirts to count, e-mails to write, cups of tea to brew, gear to unpack, camera batteries to charge, cups of tea to drink (that’s been about a five minute seep right?).
The evening was less inspired than I might have imagined given all of the professional circumstances and experience collected over the past year but folks were generally tired and overwhelmed from a day spent figuring out this new country to be home for the next three weeks. Afterwards I shared a drink with Dave, Jimmy, and Steve. We drank to something witty, which I can’t recall, and then Jimmy chimed in “To being single, seeing double, and sleeping triple.”

It was then fitting that we walked back to the bus alone, a double decker bus with fourteen beds, two lounges, one up, one down, three flat screen TVs, a full kitchen, and no heating system that my slumbering body could remember how to turn on.

I awoke but fifteen minutes ago and the tile of the kitchen floor gave me an ice cream headache. We’re in Wolverhampton. Wherever that might be. It is rainy outside, foggy, and I’m drinking proper tea.

austin to starkville to atlanta to utah to denver

i'm tired. said goodbye to mute math last night. i have this to remember.

on a back road in East Texas

Corrigan Texas. Sounds like East Texas, but I'm not sure. We've been driving since 1:30 this morning. Took the back roads, just to look at the stars. Decided that the main roads and highways were just, well, too main. The last city I remember was Shreveport. We're headed to Houston. I've been a lot of places lately. Savanannah was nice. As I imagined. Coffee shops and French heritage. You can't go wrong there.

The sun is already low in the horizon, probably going to be dark within the hour. Remember the summers when it gets dark at 9:30? Those are my favorite hours, the ones between 5 and 9, when the shadows get long but everything still stays warm. A soft glow, magic hour we call it. I like magic hour.

I'm trying to get in the mood to work out some characters on my latest piece of writing. I'm an awful writer due to a lack of discipline. I wouldn't even call myself a writer. I've been writing only because I can't ever find the story to read the way I want it to. And sometimes I just can't find the time to write my mind the way I want it to read. This is called getting in the way of one's self. I do it all the time, try not to, but can't help it.

The road is lonely sometimes. I don't want this forever. Once in a lifetime story this one right now. Detachment. That's what it is. You aren't connected to any true sense of reality. Again I flip through my phone and look for someone to call. Someone who might understand, but then there's nobody there. So I write blogs and hope that someone somewhere is reading them. And that makes me feel wanted. I want to be wanted. Everyone wants to be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be felt. To be dreamt about. To be longed for. To be thought of. And to be remembered.

Lake Livingston is on the right and Sufjan is on my headphoens. Lots of weeded concrete parking lots and old drive thru burger or donut stands round here. Again I shouldn't be surprised.

no real good reason

Savannah. Georgia. STGs.

I felt like posting a photo. I've taken about 4,134 in the past two months. I don't even really have time to sort through them all. But I wanted to share this one. I'm so bad about writing up here because MySpace takes up all my time. What a shame. Nobody ever reads this anyway.

I deeply regret....

March 2006

Laurence Blackhurst IV

10130 Donner Trail Rd.

Unit #1

Truckee, CA. 96161

Dear Mr. Blackhurst,

I am writing to inform you that your application and creative materials have been very carefully reviewed by the faculty of the Graduate Division, Kanbar Institute of Film and Television review board. Your visual portfolio and written pieces were examined along with your application and supporting documents against a large field of candidates.

I deeply regret to inform you that we cannot offer you a place in the incoming graduate film class this year.

You should know, however, that the review committee felt strongly enough about your application to pass you to the second round. This distinction was earned by only a third of the several hundred applications received.

I want to thank you for the care and thoroughness you have shown in completing your application. I trust you will understand that the admission process involves some very difficult and delicate choices. Under no circumstances should our decision be understood as a reflection on your ability or potential. Because so many more students apply than we can properly teach, we must pass over many highly qualified applicants each year.

Your interest in the Tisch School of the Arts is greatly appreciated. You have my best wishes for a successful career in the arts.

Sincerely,

Dan Sandford

Director of Graduate Admissions

Tisch School of the Arts

an open letter to Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind

Dear Stephan,

My name is Rod Blackhurst and I am a 25 year old filmmaker.

I first heard your band in the early winter of 1997, maybe even in December of 1996. Where have you gone Stephan? From your lyrics to your music to your melodies to your harmonies to your branding guitar harmonics where have you gone? Your three albums hold me together still to this day. In fact I can’t stop listening to Out of the Vein. The analog sound that makes the basses and drums deep and rich just makes things feel right.

I worked in the music industry for a while in college, Aware Records, Atlantic Records, spent some time booking shows for my college, John Mayer, Riddlin Kids, Lucky Boys Confusion, The Push Stars, and I’ve directed music videos.

Yeah, some of my friends in bands that had their haydays back in the late 90’s early 2000’s don’t like you. I’m not going to name them but their bands were big, and I’ve been fortunate enough to keep in touch with them, building lasting relationships. But that doesn’t matter to me. I saw Third Eye Blind play about 4 or 5 times and when I lived in Lake Tahoe for the past three years I wish that I could have seen a show in San Francisco but alas I was never able to catch your band at the right time.

So I’m writing this letter to you for two reasons.

1. I want you to make music again. I know that you are recording with your girlfriend but I look forward to the day when I can buy another third eye blind CD.

2. I want to offer my filmmaking services to you and your band. You can check out a bunch of my work at www.transistorproductions.com, music videos, documentary projects, and X-Games film work that I’ve done. I would like to make your story into a film, and I guess it doesn’t need any boundaries, just you and your band recording, getting ready to make new music. I’ll shoot the behind the scenes. I’ll help you concept a good music video, something that is just music and you all.

3. I have no idea how to get in touch with you so this is my open letter to you.

I’m waiting to get into NYU film school right now, should know by April 1st. I had an interview there a few weeks ago which is a big thing. I’m writing a short screenplay with a friend who lives in San Francisco. We are planning on shooting it this summer and it’s the story of a group of friends, but mainly the story of a man who’s life is just a series of fuckups. He’s scared that his life will never amount to anything, that maybe he’s just eloquent in his own head.

Sometimes I feel this way myself, maybe we all do at times.

Much respect,

Rod Blackhurst