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London Diary 53

God I miss you so much…

I dreamt about you last night. So many things I wanted to ask you, too many things. Why you had to leave so soon. Unfinished business here on this Earth, I can feel it. That’s why you keep coming back to me. In my wildest moments, I can still feel your protective caress on me, the guiding hand that was taken too soon.

Why did I call on God? Shouldn’t I be blaming Him?

I know it is nature. Each generation must succeed from the preceding one. But that does not make it any easier in my heart. Maybe it is why I keep looking for you, in any possible arena, especially in my dreams. For advice, for hope for love. Yes, that love is missing in my life. Now it is only a one way street from myself towards you. And what are you? Just a memory? For a few brief moments we interacted. You gave me life, nurtured me. You were my first teacher, protected me when the world was conspiring to destroy me. And then you left. Why, I still cannot understand.

But who else can I call on, if not God?

Maybe I am still a believer, deep down, no matter what I have seen and felt and done in this world. I have done many bad things. I pay for them, with my blood, with my own pain, everyday. How long I have left, who knows? Well, God knows, but any mortal person know nothing. Like why you came to me last night. Why do I dream about you, still, consistently, after all these years? What are you trying to tell me, beyond the grave? What we had is gone, can’t you accept that? Why do you keep haunting me?

God, why?

Maybe I cry to him, because, in some small way, I believe I am crying in your arms again. While you hold me, and tell me not to worry, that everything will be okay. Why I cannot share this gift of your, this calm through the storm, the serenity through the madness that is life. When my mind races, thinking of the impossible multitude of tasks that I must do to get through each waking day, why can’t I have the same, solid mindset that you had. Maybe, crying to you, via God helps me. Even though I feel that my cries are useless.

God, help me. Please?

I don’t believe. Really, when I call on God it is habit. I ask myself everyday if God ewas truly amongst us, why would he let us act like this. People think we are above animals, but we are below them. The animals live in harmony, but we always thrive when there is discord. I sound a bit like you. When you used to tell me about how the world works. Maybe your lessons rubbed off more than you imagined. Maybe, despite your absence, I still retain, through my thoughts, an essence of you. But certainly, my deeds, what I have done, what I am ding, and what I am about to do. Nothing is further removed from you, or God.

God, forgive me, for all my deeds.

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The Teaser is Coming…(Film News)

Just a quick update on Great Brytania. I am busily editing away, so give me another week. And what a busy week this is going to be. Now, I got to catch up on some blogs. See you soon!

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London Diary 52

Up, early. Too early. Sun glistening through the windows. Need sleep. Any amount of sleep will do. Bed empty, where is she? Shit. She had to leave. Again. Miss her body. But sleepy. Want to think about her, soft hair, glistening body, nice tits. Hey, that’s why she is my girlfriend, I like her tits. So I have a one track mind, so sue me! Can’t a girl have a little fun now and then? But I need sleep. Before the baby wakes me up – again. For once he is peaceful. He is ignoring the sunshine through the window. I should be grateful, of the peace. But why can’t I sleep?

Okay, I am focusing too much on her tits…maybe if I think of counting sheep or something…

I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I guess I miss Mum. Again. I should stop thinking about her, but I can’t. I look at Dad, but he is not my Mum. And he is also missing Mum. We all do, I suppose that’s why him and my sister haven’t talked in a long while. I know my mum would have told him off for being so silly. It’s three years now, but I still remember her smile like it was yesterday. Then they took her into hospital. She still kept on smiling, but her eyes were tired. You could see that. In the end, she wanted to sleep, for it to be over. No amount of smiling could change that.

Sometimes I get angry. Like now, I think why didn’t she try harder. But she was always trying, even when her hair began to fall out. Maybe that’s why she is n longer here. Smiling. And why instead of seeping, I just lie and think of her, looking at me with her wonderful eyes, smiling. While silently, I am crying.

Sleep.

I wish it could come.

But it never does.

Not before an event.

Always the adrenaline.

Even this time, with that soft bastard opposite me.

Maybe it is not adrenaline, but guilt?

Guilty because I am taking the money.

I am going to go for it.

Because sod it, I have had enough.

Honour, hard work, a proud chin. That don’t pay the bills. That won’t look after my wife, my child. That don’t turn on the heat, or put food on the table. Only one thing does that, and when someone puts half your mortgage on the table for tripping over. Well, that’s something good. I can keep the gym open for good, keep the roof over my head for good, and not have to worry about nothing. Even if that someone is nothing but some gun toting bastard, he still pays up. cash is king, and in the end, that is what matter.

But still, sleep does not come easy.

I need the rest. No matter what, even if the fight’s per-determined, I need the strength to go through with it. Just a little sleep. It will keep me going. Maybe then, my pride won’t hurt so much…

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London Diary 51

Touch.

It’s important.

It’s essential.

And it’s moments like this that I never wish would end.

It was a calm night outside. The winter had arrived, bitterly cold, and she knew there would be a cold frost the next morning when she would head off to work. But at least there was no wind, howling and rattling along the fence.

They lay next to each other, close to one another, their body heat migling between the sheets. The baby was quiet in the cot and although they both lay awake in the bed, for one, brief moment, everything was just-

Perfect.

Perfectly still.

There was nothing that was said between them. Maybe, just maybe, too many things had been said in the past. The bitterness and the tears that had washed away much of the trust that they had in each other. So for now the silence was al they had. For once the city was silent. Well, Monday night. That means she also didn’t work that night. Mondays were always too quiet for the clients to come out. Believe it or not, it was always Tuesday or Wednesday. . Thursday and Friday would be at the pub, the weekends with the families, but for some reason, men usually paid for her company on a Tuesday or a Wednesday.

It was probably the only time they could reconcile their own conflicting emotions. On a Tuesday!

So what lay in store for both of these lovers? Lying side by side. Silent, neither of them wanting to puncture the silence that had enveloped them. Neither of them pretending that they were asleep. Both were very much aware of the other one’s conscious state. Both had decided to lie still, and simply lie together. Touching each other. At moments intimate. At moments sensual. And at moments gentle, fingertips.

I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.

Neither of them wanted to go to work that morning. Slowly, as the night passed into morning, they could both see the twilight pouring through the windows. Another day, another dollar, another 24 hours where both of them have to struggle through the city, all in the name of survival. Not living, just pure, barbaric, survival. Food, shelter, warmth, that was all they earned enough for. The clothes they wore was second hand, the food they ate came out from the sell-by-date bargain bucket lines, and the slimy feel of the walls was due to the years of damp building up beneath the wallpaper.

Neither of them wanted to get up and face the morning light, trying its hardest to burst through the dull clouds that always hung limply over concrete blocks surrounding them. Eventually, something would have to stir. But for now, they both lay there, touching, feeling one another. Sleepless and silent as the night turned into day. Fingertip caressing, the only bit of gentle feeling that either of them knew in this harsh, and bitterly cold winter’s morning. The memories of a better life, now horribly distant, left the two of them clinging to each other. As much for warmth and comfort. But also in desperation. Both of them knew, and realised that it was not only love that kept them side by side, but also the very knowledge that no-one else wanted either of them. Wasted, as they were, littered with the mistakes they had made in the futility of their own history…

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London Diary 50

The heat coming from the heater warmed my hands. The soft hum of the engine dulled my senses. And the rhythmic rocking of the car through the streets of London almost sent me to sleep.

I looked across at the driving seat at him. Once upon a time I loved this man. Or so I thought I did. But we had a child together, our son. No matter what our differences were, we still had a bond that transcended all our divisions.

He was a god man. Let me rephrase that, he is a good man. Despite what I put him through, he rescued me, tonight. Whether it was serendipity or just a happy coincidence, I do not know. But if it was no for him, life would have got very sticky.

I turn, and look back through the rear window. I know no one is following us, but I still got to make sure. I am in a lot of trouble. I could get him to help me, but, I do not want his help. I cannot do it, I have taken enough from him already. I have taken him from his family, his work, his pride. I do not want to take anymore from him, he has given enough to me.

It is wet outside. Winter. Cold, damp, the rain still fresh on the tarmac. We hit a couple of puddles as he negotiates through the traffic. The nice thing about being driven is the fact that I do not have to sit outside in the cold. My cash in my bag is safe, plus the cash I got off her.

Yeah, I left her. I do not know if she is still alive, but she deserved what she got. Junkie. But what choice did I have. Stick around, call an ambulance and wait to get thrown in a cell. I got too much stuff on me for that. here is no such thing as a happy ending. Anyway, she made a choice, I just supplied the goods. She was already past it long before she met me. I was just a cheaper supplier, that is that.

In the end , it is just business. No thoughts, no personality. Just the cash in my bag. And her pills. That was a lucky find, but maybe I can make a couple of extra pennies by flogging it. Or maybe they will dull the pain in my head.

I need to sleep. But I cannot. My mind is always racing. Everytime I close my eyes, it feels as if a movie is playing on my eyelids. Maybe I should stop taking this stuff, but it keeps me going. Alive, and I can pay off this debt. He probably suspects what I am doing, t is why he picked me up. Not serendipity, not fate. These things do not happen in London. He just knows me, what I am capable off. We were once intimate, we were once in love. But that love is long gone from me. I have someone else. More important in my life. And he has to get over that. No matter what his kindness is like.

I know that he will try to sweet-talk to me. And I will have to placate him. Rub his neck a little, maybe kiss his cheek as a thank you. But that is as far as it goes. To leave him hanging. After all, I may need his help again sometime.

The night continues along. People spilling out of the clubs. Waiting for a Night Bus, trying to get a cab. I suppose I am lucky, warm, dry, getting ferried to somewhere for free. In need to sleep, and the heat makes me drowsy. But even though I can trust him, I still do not want to let my guard down. I keep my eyes open and watch the city flow by from the passenger seat. Slowly into the night…

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London Diary 49

It’s simple. All I got to do is sell. Sell like crazy. It is a job, just like any other. Except I am my own boss, I got a ready source of clients and I got to watch my back for the fuzz.

No matter what she told herself, the reality was different. She was always looking from side to side. Shifting her eyes, always afraid. The confidence with which she tried to instill within her was nothing more than sticking tape. A brief respite for the deep wounds she had already cast upon herself.

Enter club. Head to the bar. Drink. Need drink. I hate the stuff, normally, but I need something to hold. And something sweet. And I need a booster. But not too sweet. In the end, I will be sick too soon. My body cannot stand this stuff.

She laid her cash on the bar. To get money, she had to spend money. That Ten Pound note was hard for her to part with, but she knew she had to blend into the crowd. And a drink always does that. She did not want to drag attention to herself. It took all her might to stop her bolting from the front door when the bouncer asked her how she was. For some reason he let her past the velvet rope into the bar. Why, she thought.

I can’t do it with a guy. I never liked them. God knows how I had my little boy? I just wanted a child. But I can’t approach them easily. But I see her, she’s cute. Alone, probably waiting for her friends. And she has nice shoes, that means something. I see my own footwear. Tatty. Thankfully it’s dark, but it’s the one thing I should have remembered. Well, I did, but the clothes cost me enough. I couldn’t afford the shoes as well. I know I don’t look the part, but we all got to start somewhere, right?

She approaches the bar. Hi she says. The girl smiles back at her. They get chatting. The usual. Weather, life, friends. I like your bag. Thanks, she replies, I picked it up in a market, vintage. That bag contains her life, the reason for her being in this bar. A cocktail of posoin to some, a vast wealth of joy for others. But she has to decide how she will exchange that powder for cold, hard, currency.

I’m a shit. I know that. But I need cash. Being nice doesn’t pay the bills. You get a kick in the teeth for minimum wage, but the world doesn’t work like that. I need more. Time is running out for us. And the one thing money doesn’t buy is time. ut it makes the time passing more sweet. And I need that cash, now. I need to help my ove, before she goes. Before she leaves us to face this wilderness alone. Life is a strange puzzle, but I can’t figure it out. My head hurts, but I still smile. I need to sell this stuff fast and get out of hear. The music gets to my ears, the beats are loud, the lyrics faint. The details pale out, I just need to keep my cool.

They head to the bathroom. She takes the money with glee. In all it was less than twenty minutes, but she already has a ton in her pocket. One hundred pounds, just like that. Her client starts snorting on the sink. She wishes she would hurry up, but she knows that part of the deal is for her to keep a look out. Snorting finished, she gently rubs the back of her new benefactor. But this friendship is only temporary. She knows she has to get out of this club quick. The bouncers will see that she is alone, and they are not stupid, they want their cut. But she didn’t come here to share her gains. Five minutes later she is out of the door, he cold air of the night, slapping her cheeks, sobering her up. She turns into n alley, shaking as she count the cash again. One hundred pounds, in just a few minutes, she thinks to herself, that’s normally three days work.

The night is still young. There is more work for her to do…

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Filming – The 2011 Update (3)

So to continue from yesterday, this sums up 2011 so far.

Artistic Filming – Fail.

Money – Good.

Simple as that. So to be blunt, I am moaning not about the amount of money I have or my finances but just about my life.

Which is a pretty good position to be in, I know that.

But that is exactly it, I want more.

Now two days ago, I asked myself, am I enjoying what I am doing. And the answer is no.

So if not, why am I doing this in the first place.

Maybe I should qualify that answer.

First of all, I should state that while I have enjoyed making films over the past year, I have not done it with any love.

Over the past year I have collaborated on short films, competition films, written scripts and now I am editing a documentary. While I have had a lot of fun, the ultimate is that I have not enjoyed it.

Why?

Well, you see, I have been playing that old cat and mouse game. Where I am trying to second guess the festivals and think what they want.

And so, while I have been making great and wonderful films, I have not enjoyed making them as much as I should have.

And I think this has been a mistake.

A big one, obviously, as 2011 has artistically failed.

So what next?

Well obviously I am not going to continue down the same path – it is utter futility after all.

So that means, after Amigos is edited and finished this year, I will have a completely clean slate. No more films are being made by me, there is nothing in the pipeline…

Good. I want to be in that position.

I want 2011 to be the final year that I have to do certain things.

After all, I came into film making because I want to do it, not because I have to.

And I think my skills both technically and artistically are at a mature stage. Not perfect, nowhere near, but have markedly improved since my first steps all those years ago on the film making path.

And my mistake for 2011 (or maybe a mistake by necessity) is that I made films, not for myself, but for an arbitrary group of people I have never met.

There is also another thing. I have lost my connection to those films themselves. Time, bitterness and a complete lack of interest has meant that 2011 has been a year that I have barely been to the cinema. In fact, I would have been on a plane more times this year than I have actually entered a cinema.

That, is not a good situation for a film maker to be in. If I am not watching or enjoying films, then what am I bothering with all of this hassle for.

I have lost focus.

And passion.

And that is a very bad position to be in.

Part of that is due to the fact that I am fed up of rejection.

But I only got myself to blame.

I did not want an ordinary life – which would have been so much more simple.

I wanted this, a more interesting life.

I wanted life.

So what next is up my sleeve.

First, definitely finish Amigos Amigos. Whether or not it gets a good festival run, on a personal level I just hate leaving things unfinished.

And once that is done, I will no longer do any project unless I really want to do it.

And the only things I want to do is to make feature films.

It is as simple as that.

While I have had a lot of fun with short films, documentaries, competitions, internet webisodes, the bottom line is that these are not outlets that are going to get me anywhere.

Also, for a film maker, this is basically w**k fodder. Yeah, providing immediate gratification, but nothing of substance that I can look back on.

And second, I need to go to the cinema. Regularly.

So my mission for 2012. Simple.

Make a feature film. I have already started to talking to people about it and next week, when I head to Poland, I will be talking to more people to see if the possibilities to make and more importantly distribute the film exist.

Distribution is key.

But second, I am going to reverse the appalling lack of cinema visits this year.

Once a month, without fail, I am off to the cinema.

But I need something to motivate this.

Oh yes dear blog. This is where you come in.

A year ago I finished one series – Crossings of the River Thames, where once a month I went out into London and took in a crossing over the city’s river. It got me got of the house, got my head up from the computer and made me sane.

I need to do that again

So from December I will be doing the Repertory Cinemas of London. There’s a partial list of them here and here. But to be honest, this is going to be a mission, a big list. I will set out the rules when I get back from Poland.

Expect some new blog spots in the not-too-distant future, more of them cinematically related and finally this web page may live up to the title of The Blog of El Director. Oh yes, there will be a lot more blogging on films, seeing them and making them from me. It is time to get my mojo back…

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