In the last two weeks I have had the very lucky, very rare opportunity to work in two of the most beautiful cities in Europe. And because I have spent this blog writing about “oh woe is me I am a broke actor” bullshit, I thought it only fair to write about the good stuff that happens too. Now taking into consideration that reading about one’s adventures and travels is about as brain numbingly painful as someone showing you pictures of their holiday, or their wedding that you failed to attend, or pictures of their child who they think just might be Jesus, or footage of their stupid dog who apparently thinks he is human or whatever the fuck…I shall try and get to the point and we can all be done with it. I shall do my best to make this as little vomit inducing as possible, but that might be hard as I had just such a gosh darn jolly good time that I may get carried away with myself.
The group of guys on the job were just great. Bunch of weirdo’s though, from all over the world, all with different talents from tap to gymnastics to high diving. The one guy, lovely guy, told me that the best way to masturbate was through this manoeuvre called The Platoon. It’s where you get down on your knees, one hand on your fun willy, and the other arm cast in the air as if getting shot in the back by an AK 47. Apparently you wanna lean back real far to get the best result. Nope, I have not tried this yet, I am staying with friends at the moment and I don’t want to have to explain the whole thing if they catch me.
So, lovely bunch of guys.
Needless to say, the Barcelona leg was made up of sangria, beer, beach, paella, tapes, and a whole lot of awesome stuff that I could drizzle on about. But the thing that struck me most was the pace or lack of. Sentimental warning: IT WAS NICE TO BE ABLE TO TAKE A BREATH.
You still with me? You shouldn’t be.
As I write this I have just arrived from Amsterdam. For those of you who have been there you would know it’s a struggle to find a better place. And just remember kids, drugs are bad ok, they make you feel all warm inside, which makes you lazy and too happy. In order to rush around with importance and take things seriously you need to stay away from pot. So the boys and I stuck to tea and Bibles, and I shudder to think of those poor lost souls who gave in to the evil temptation of exploring the beautiful streets of Amsterdam fuelled with what can only be described as the devils’ medicine, I shudder to think of them sauntering down the morally dubious Red Light District in awe of that age old profession which has rendered men stupid…it makes my stomach twist in disapproving disdain as I picture these said men gliding (yea we, I mean they, glided)… gliding over the little bridges that ford the canals and carelessly stopping for this beer and for that beer, and for this smoke and for that. How dare they completely relax and let the city seduce them with her slow burn of good people and the tick tocking of the lazy trams that play metronome to the city as they wind their way in and out (fuck I am getting in to it now…) as they wind their way in and out of its streets like so many tributaries (ah boy) and how dare they stand in awe of the Grey Herons that pose still as statues with their wings spread in gestures of prayer to soak up the sun like some long lost Kings come back as these birds incarnate to once again stand a silent sentry over their city as the sun slowly douses the bicycled streets with a honey like coat (waka waka who is ready for more, woop woop) …NAY I say NAY…we had no time to for such whims of ill begotten adventures, we had work to do, and things to take seriously and Amsterdam will eat those motivations and spit them out into a big cosy pillow of “who the fuck cares”
Sorry about that. When in Amsterdam.
Anyway we all did a live performance in Amsterdam, each demonstrating our different talents and flew home to London where anxiety and mad-fuck-me-in-the-face panic and chaos shall replace the heartbreaking lights of Barcelona and Amsterdam.
PS: The Platoon is awesome by the way…I tried it between the last two paragraphs.