Bigger this for a grim of soul yours. My spill chick seems to heave gone wring. You shoed really wodge this shirt phlegm. Space lee if your a right hair. It’s vary fanny.
Monthly Archives: January 2012
In the meantime – with the Loose Bloggers Consortium theme set as simplicity – this song sprang to mind. Derry man Phil Coulter wrote it about his experiences with his son with Down’s Syndrome. Luke Kelly from the Dubliners felt it was a song suitable only for special occasions and not every performance.
Beautiful and scary sometimes go together… Women, rope bridges, women… er, women, oh, and starlings. Watch this short beautiful and slightly scary video.
As gifts go, this must be one of the coolest. The gift is your life. Which is clearly not to be sneezed at. But as gift wrapping goes – an ejector seat must be unbeatable.
I was chatting to a guy who makes them a few hours ago. On his way into work he passes a sign saying:
Lives saved: 7376
This year: 02
Of course, if you build ejector seats, you can’t spend every day in the office. You get to watch films like this being made. 3.. 2.. 1.. Fire Continue reading
You, me and Harvey Weinstein. We can be film producers. It’ll be great.
We’ll leave the boring old blockbusters to Harve. You and me – we’ll concentrate on something smaller and perfectly formed like this emerging jewel called God Help The Girl.
It’s the brainchild of Stuart Murdoch of the Scottish band Belle and Sebastian. (Some of you may remember the children’s TV programme of almost the same name. The band got a kicking from Jack Black in High Fidelity, but then again, he was going mad for Katrina and the Waves.)
So Stuart has got together with a proper Hollywood producer called Barry Mendel (Sixth Sense, Bridesmaids, etc) to make a film of a summer of music and love in Glasgow based round an album of songs. The hero is a girl being treated for annorexia, who discovers a talent for writing songs and teams up with a brother and sister she meets while on the bunk from her treatment centre.
The video gives a look behind the scenes – and the singers. Aaah…
They’ve got songs, locations, a plot, a script and actors (I think). All they need is a wee bit of backing. US$100,000 to be precise.
Which is where we come in. The producers. Also known as – the funders. Or as I like to think of it – executive producers.
The film is being funded through a crowdsourcing website. It works like this: You describe your creative project on the site – in this case, www.kickstarter.com and set a cash target. Thousands of people donate a wee bit of money. If you reach your target, you get the cash to spend on the project. If you don’t make it, the money is returned to the donors.
But why would any sane person donate?
- A desire to see the film made.
- To maintain the image of an eccentric billionaire.
- Incentives. Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere… (after this song)
The beautiful voices belong to Continue reading
“There are times when familiar, reassuring thoughts come back as comforts.” So says Ian Poulton. He’s a Church of Ireland vicar who writes the For The Fainthearted blog.
I’m stealing his thoughts for this post for the Loose Bloggers Consortium. Ian’s a reflective wide-ranging wonderer and storyteller. He was one of the first to encourage me with this here internet writing. And he’s talking about sleep – which is something I want to rediscover for myself – before the bags under my eyes become haversacks.
This is some of what he says about rediscovery:
There is the line in Sebastian Faulks’ moving novel Charlotte Gray, where Miss Gray is about to be parachuted into Nazi-Occupied France as a spy. An RAF bomber is flying her through the night, deep into occupied territory, and one of the bomber crew announces to her that they are just passing over one of the French cities.
It was a reassuring moment to me, the image of an aeroplane moving through a clouded night sky, almost as though it was tiptoeing so as not to wake anyone. The city below was a place I knew from summer holidays, but it was more than that; there is a feeling of safety, of security, in a community asleep below in the deep darkness. Is it perhaps that sleeping people are unthreatening people, or is it that sleep represents a refuge from all the worries of the world?
I remember reading Father Niall O’Brien’s story of his ministry on the Philippine island of Negros, a tale of struggling against violence and oppression. Many of the sugar workers led miserable lives as day labourers, yet there was one moment where Niall O’Brien describes stepping into a hut late at night to be met with darkness in which he could make out the sleeping figures of itinerant workers. Sleep seemed a moment of relief, a few brief hours of respite from the grinding poverty in which they lived.
For Prospero, in William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, life itself is a Continue reading