Copyright and shit

I was out in Pacha when I heard this tune come on in the club and then it hit me:

this would be THE PERFECT piece of music to have at the beginning of my film

So I found out what the tune was and now I have managed to secure copyright clearance to use the song.

Well sort of.

The song is published by a big record company who won't issue an 'agreement' (the legal permission with terms and conditions) because there is no money changing hands. Instead I will get a signed letter giving me permission to use the song and blah de blah. I have the permission and this is enough.

So this should be fine. I've used the tune in the rough cut and it works really well.

BUT

If I want to screen the film anywhere that charges an admission fee, or if I want to sell even one copy of the DVD then that causes a problem with royalties. In all probability this shouldn't cause a problem BUT - down the line I cannot afford to set myself up for a disastrous situation.

So.

The perfect house music tune may have to be replaced by some custom made music which will probably be done by a guy I did a music video for last year.

This is an equally good and bad situation and I am not sure what the proper course of action will be yet. There are pluses and minuses on either side of the choice.

Today I had a bath and shed my skin like a snake.

(The following post is a total and utter work of fiction - it has no truth and is not based on real events. It never actually happened. Any resemblance to events or people living or dead is entirely coincidental and should be ignored.)

Years ago when I was studying TV and Film at University I had the opportunity to make short films (I directed 3 projects as part of my course and 2 extra ones for fun). Back then I had the most beautiful opportunity to learn the art of movie making. But I am not too sure who or what actually taught me.

My skills only ever developed 'so' far. That is, I graduated at the age of 21 with a grasp of film making that didn't really extend beyond my original abilities. All I had was the opportunity to practice with like minded people in an environment that would not crash and burn me for every mistake I made. Through this I managed to develop and grow more as an artist than a film maker.

I know it sounds gay, but it's true.

I did some maniac things on my film shoots - stuff that would have gotten me thrown out of university on my ass. I just deleted the list I typed out because it's not prudent to list one's indiscretions in a public forums. So here are the nouns only. With a few adjectives.

Unlicensed pyrotechnics,
Falsified health and safety documents,
Home made squibs,
Class A drugs, (actors using on set)
Imitation guns,
TWO armed reponse vehicles,
Customs checks
Self inflicted stab wound (very mild)
and...
Lap Dancers.

Not all at once of course.

But anyway, the biggest things I learned were not technical - they related to my filmmaking as an art. It related to what I wanted to do, and how far I wanted to go.

I was a bit of a prick, and I butted heads with a lot of people - lecturers and course mates alike. But I did what I had to do and I would always do the same.

In that time I discovered a truth about film making that I still quote to myself to this day.

"Film making is about evolving. From the moment you write the very first word of the script until the very last sound effect is added - the film is constantly changing, at every step of the way."
- Lord of Doom 1999

And from this I recognise the same truth in my most recent short film. Nobody can plan everything - it NEVER happens. Anybody who tries to is a lying cunt. Nobody gets it all their way.

So I have to roll with the punches and admit that yes my film IS shit. Because it is no longer the film I remember trying to make. It has evolved from that. But lucky for me, I recognise this. So I need to look and see inside to find the film that it will become.

For the uninitiated this is a traumatic experience. But it's not all bad though. It's kind of relieving to 'let go' and allow oneself to evolve. For my sins though, when all is said and done and this film is finished I will forget this process and I will imagine to myself that the end product was always the way it was meant to be.

And I will pretend that was a genius all along.

doom
x

Fucking Shit.

It is 1:00am and I am 50% or so through editing together a rough cut of my recent short film and I hate it.

I am obviously deluded that I will in any way be able to accomplish anything with this life long ambition of mine to make movies.

(If I look back at everything else I've done - this is a normal reaction during the editing process. I always end up hating my stuff and then after a while I'll edit and edit and edit and then it turns out okay. Experience tell me that this project will eventually turn out okay.)

But right now my film is fucking shit.

And I fucking hate it.

So fuck off.

--------------------------------------

The Lord of Doom slowly and reverently bows before Jason of Texas - who from anonymity has boldly stepped forth to bask in the glory and receive the honour.

"Thou art the 10,000th visitor to my blog. What, sir, is thine request of me?"




Then the Lord of Doom turns to Smartypants, with a twinkle in his eye.

"And thou, milady? What is thine wish?"

FIRST COME FIRST SERVED

Okay, the VERY first person who comments below wins the celebratory prize for my blog being TEN THOUSAND CLICKS old!

I don't know what the prize is.

But it might be anything the winner asks for.

Just remember, however, that since I am not in employment right now, it won't be especially valuable, in a financial sense, but anything I give WILL be valuable in a different sense.

so... on your marks, get-set....

GO!

x

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THE RACE IS ON - A PRIZE FOR THE WINNER

The race is on, boys and girls - the counter to my blog is 9,949 at the moment.

In 51 clicks it will be 10,000.

Whoever the 10,000th click is - get a prize. I don't even know what the prize is, perhaps that lucky person can choose it.

But I anticipate the winning click to come in some time on Saturday, in the Afternoon (GMT).


Good luck.

xx


ps. I know most of you have far exceeded 10,000 clicks - ex millenial girl is up to 113,000 or something amazing like that, LCH got 10,000 in about 3 fucking weeks. Well, I am a loser so I don't care.

Sneak Preview...

TAPE IS CHEAP

And so it begins - after a failed 3 months waiting for an editor I have decided to partly do it myself on my G4 Apple Mac laptop. This was I can share the project file with the new editor whom is also the new compositor.

I am annoyed with myself for letting it take this long - because right from the beginning I could have done it myself - but I suppose this is the way that things turn out.

We have a digusting amount of footage - for a 10 minute film we have three hours worth. That is undisciplined and embarrassing. But, tape is cheap, as they say... so often the camera stays rolling.

Anyway, now I need to log the tapes and synch the sound track. A long and laborious task, but I am happy that I can actually start work on it.

In other news:

I had that meeting with the rap artists this afternoon - it seemed to go well. I don't have much time and their project falls outside my personal CORE ACTIVITY parameters so I will do what I can do for them, but I ain't busting my ass - I'll write up a treatment this weekend. We discussed some ideas which they seemed to like.

BUT the money they have is so little, it barely covers the equipment, so any special extras they want in the video they need to fix themselves. Which is actually a good arrangement. In fact, it is a VERY good arrangement. It means, I don't have to worry about resource management. So anything we agree upon in the video, THEY go and get.

ie.

Locations,
Extras,
Dancing Girls,
Clothes,
Props,
Actors.



Oh yeah, I am very disappointed that nobody wants me to teach them how to cook a good curry. I can only assume that you must all be excellent cooks (Not you London Cokehead, I already know that you're a good cook)

Love and kisses,

Doom/Blondie
x

Do you want to Join my Club?

If you want some background to this then read here:

http://thesecretdiaryofabum.blogspot.com/2006/02/its-mickey-mouse-club.html

Well, three days after that I called her.

Her: "We have re-established contact with the original director so we don't need your help. I hope you don't think we've messed you around?"

Me: "Oh no, don't worry about it."

Fuck it. What was I going to do? I am so used to people in the lower echelons of the music industry being total wastes of time that I am almost impervious to it. They only wanted me to do it because they were having problems with the original director.

Cut forwards in time.


On Monday she called me:

Her: "We shot the video yesterday... we won't be dealing with that waste of space again."

Me: "Oh really, what happened?"

In short - they need the video shot again.

And by me this time.

Basically, on a long enough timeline every waste of space will fuck themselves over. So now it is our time to prove ourselves worthy. The Legacy of thet previous waste of space is that this lot expect us to deal with the same amount of money that they did.

And they did by cutting a lot of corners.

So in order to step up we need to do a good job. But we cannot cut corners because we are trying to make this sustainable.

But fuck them if they expect me to break my ass for them. I have a meeting with them and my producer in just over an hour. I'm not especially excited - if anything I am bored about it.

They want a crappy-ass video for crappy-ass money - and it's for a crappy-ass song. So they've come to thhe right place:

The Mickey Mouse Club.

Doom/Blondie
xx

Birthday Din Dins for my 22 year old Princess

Many many years ago my forefathers were kidnapped and enslaved by the English - taken from their native India and shipped via boat to the West Indies/South America where they lived for several generations before my dad was invited back to the mother land where he met my mum.

Anyway - my point is - Spice and flavour is in my roots and culture - and recently because I have had so much free time I have been getting back to something that I love:

Cooking.

No self-respecting man should be unable to cook. This has always been a belief of mine. Cooking is such a valuable skill for a myriad of reasons - It can be deeply personal and private whilst also an extremely sociable thing to do. I learned to cook when I was at university. Out of neccessity.

I LOVE to eat good food - but as a student I could afford to eat out all the time and my mum was not around to feed me. So, for me to eat good food there was only was only one option - for me to learn to cook it myself.

I remember the first time I tried to cook special pilau rice - I fucked it up so badly that it managed to be simultaneously overcooked and undercooked at the same time - but I ate every last fucking mouthful - and it taught me a lesson. Since then, I've never fucked up rice.

Anyway.

Today, for my girlfriend's birthday I cooked her a special dinner of:

Tandoori Chicken pieces
(Marinated overnight to make it extra tender)

Tarka Daal
(Secret ingredient beside the tarka mix - tinned tomatoes and onions)

Spicy Okra
(Secret ingredient - 4 tablespoons of the special curry sauce that I made this afternoon)

Potato and Spinach with Courgette.
(secret ingredient - the special curry sauce that I made this afternoon PLUS brown mustard seeds that you pop first as well as gently fried onions)

Pilau Rice.
(secret ingredient - Turmeric for colour)

And in my humble opinion it is the best meal I have ever cooked - Through my numerous recent attempts I have discovered the 'secret' to Indian cooking.

And if anybody is honestly interested I will happily post an idiots guide to cooking decent curry.


Peace and love.

Doom/Blondie
xx


ps.

she LOVED Minky.

Re-Prioritising

Today I went to the NEW computer animator's house and we digitised the the footage from my recent short film and I will soon start to work on logging the tapes and putting together a rough of rough cuts. (It is quite bad because we shoot the film in December and to be only digitising now is a joke)

Anyway, it is annoying because I have spent 8 weeks waiting for another editor to become available and in that time I could have done it my fucking self... But the older I get the wiser I get and now, at least, I can recognise that ZERO PROGRESS is being made on the present course so I have taken matters into my own hands - found a NEW editor and together we will get it done.

I have set a deadline of 4 weeks from today to complete the Test Commercial (from 2004) and have a serious rough cut of the short film to put on my showreel. There is a local grant to film makers and I know that statistically have the best chance of success with this award than any others available to UK short film makers because of the small catchment and the small number of applicants. SO, I need to get my shit ready for then.

x

Meet My New Friend.

In just under a week I will have been going out with my beautiful 21 year old girlfriend for 1 year.

Actually, that is a lie, she will be 22 and 1 day old... So my beautiful 21 year old she shall no longer be. But, nonetheless, together for one year we will have.

Anyway.

For her birthday/our anniversay she wanted me to 'make' her something. Of course, she expected something simple. Like a card.

She did not reckon upon my creative impulse.

After 9 hours of sitting in my bedroom stiching and cutting and stuffing, my new 'friend' has been born. He is Pink and he looks like a bit of a Mongy - So, Ladies and Gentlemen, Please meet Minky.


Love,

Doom

p.s.

Some of you are more interested in other stuff, I know you are looking at my hair and thinking that it is not very blonde.

1. That is the light making it look bronze/ginger/unnatural.

2. It is the beginning stage of my blonde. I am building it slowly.

3. Anybody have a real Cartier watch I can have?

The $3,500 saga continues

I explained to him that the watch had been given to me and that it did not work. But before paying to have it fixed I wanted to check it's authenticity.

He asked to see the watch and then examined it. He murmered to himself, "it all seems to be in order," he then got one of those tiny magnifying glass things that all jewellers have and then inspected the watch closely.

"Good news, I can confirm that the watch is indeed genuine."

To prove this he passes the watch and a magnifying glass and shows me the tiniest of tiny Cartier logos hidden in one of the roman numerals on the dial.

"This detail is never copied."

"And the value of the watch?" I ask.

"That depends on the condition, but it would be £2,000 new."

I pass on my details to him and he takes the watch to be repaired.

I leave.

Happy.


And then today I get a letter in the post:



"Dear Lord of Doom,

We write with regard to the watch you you recently sent us for our attention.

We regret to advise that after further examination and research with our archives department we can confirm that your watch was not manufactured or distributed by Cartier..."



Oh.


So after 5 days of thinking is was valuable I now find that the watch is worthless. Easy come easy go as they say.

But it fooled the man in the Cartier shop. It was given to me in good faith. So I wonder, how many people are walking around with watches they believe to be real?

And the fucking watch STILL is broken.

xx

The $3,500 question.

So this afternoon, I walked along London's New Bond Street towards the Cartier store. To my shame I had to admit I was slightly nervous. I say 'to my shame,' because I don't often get nervous, and to be nervous over something so frivolous is just unneccesary. Nonetheless, my anxiety about the outcome was not because of the financial value of the watch - but rather because I don't like being taken for a fool. I cannot imagine anything more foolish than being given a broken imitation watch and then catching the train all the way into London to have it authenticated at the Cartier store only to be told that it is a fake.

Actually, that is a lie - there is something worse - being conned by my friend's apparent generosity. Who was I to think that he would just casually have a broken Cartier watch lying around? Who was I to think that he would just give it to me? who was I indeed?

More pertinently, how would I be able to look him in the eye the next time I saw him, knowing that he had make me feel a fool?

So there I am walking along New Bond Street, my life suddenly so much more complicated because of a gift. A simple gift.

In this moment I learn about myself. I recognise Greed, I recognise Vanity and also Pride. My own cynicism reveals my own ghetto mentality. The watch just has to be a fake because that is the cycnical South London ghetto world I live in. And that is the ghetto mentality I have.

Right or wrong my cynicism is there. But for all the cynicism in the world there is always logic. And it is simple logic that is choosing my destiny today.

I need to know the facts.

So I walk to the Cartier store, a security guard open the door and I step inside. I falter for a moment unable to recognise how it works - there is one woman serving a seated customer, but no obvious products to browse. Minimal displays rest behind glass, nothing that catches my eye. I cannot pretend to be interested in any of it so I pull out my mobile and instead pretend to check a text message.

This buys me time. There are two seemingly empty smaller rooms towards the rear of the store, but beyond the dark wood and glass the shop is surprisingly bare. Cautiously I step towards the rear and in one of the rooms I find a man sitting at a desk,

"Can I help you?" Comes a pleasant French accent.

"I hope so, but this could be potentially very embarrassing."

"Excellent. Please sit down."

I do and then begin the story.

The £2,000 Question

Is my Cartier Santos Watch Real?

Well somebody just gave it to me. But it is broken, so before paying to have it fixed I want to authenticate it.

I've emailed a couple of places in London so tomorrow I will go and find out.

If it's real then I'll be well happy. If it's not, then I'll be cool cos it was a present. I'll post more when I find the truth.