'Young(ish) man discovers redundancy at the exact same moment of flying the nest'

I thought a basic log-line of sorts might sum up the current state of affairs here at Zoo Towers.

At least it seemed somewhat appropriate, given that the ScriptShadow log-line contest is now waving its jazz hands at us. Whether or not I can finish my screenplay in time is another question. As said logger implies, life's little challenges may overcome me and I'm likely to succumb. But we're not writing a picture based on my life, are we? If we were, it would have tits and explosions, because these feature quite often on an ordinary day for me. Alas, I digress. I'm not going to sit here and whine about it. Other folk have significantly bigger problems to deal with, and let's admit it - sometimes we only need a little nudge to remember our lives are pretty damn good.

These moments are what we make of them. They can be arbiters of change, or demons. Our call.

I've wanted this my whole life

Fame.

I'm gonna live forever - or, at least, for eighteen months with a 'reality' series and a book deal.

The CPC really has me thinking about what it all means for the future of the UK. Our young disclose their intentions to 'just be famous' at any cost; swept along by a low-grade cultural milieu that sadly defines their tender young lives. I'm left wondering what state the body politic will be in when this fractured generation wake to find ITV on a Saturday night let them down....that Heat magazine may just as well have been used to smother and choke them as they slept, depriving them of lives and possibilities untold.

The cold dawn won't be spent weeping at the feet of politicians past or future - but rather at the great idols, the divine arbiters of life and all one should hold dear to heart - Cowell, Cole, Minogue et al. As ever, the bastard hangover is reserved for the most agonising of 'morning after' realisations - if the malaise of fame has not clouded them to the point, by then, where nothing else existed. It's an interesting thought-nugget. Times and attitudes are changing. Connecting to a populace so enamoured with....well, themselves, I guess, is no mean feat. For the Conservatives or indeed any other party to really resonate with younger voters that would sooner rally Kanye than Cameron - well, it must be soul-destroying. Especially in an era where political and indeed general ignorance is celebrated under a questionable veil of being 'funny'.

People want fame as some sort of patch for their lives; somewhere along the line it became the fifth element, the 24th chromosome - an intangible fix that silences the screaming void that begs of us - 'who are you?'. Seeking that answer from the indiscriminate and generic approval of others leads us down a dark path. One that I fear so many will find themselves at the end of, before long, all too late to turn around and change things for themselves.

Anyways, what the hell happened to becoming famous for a reason? Like, dare I say, love of your craft resulting in something that people celebrate? 'Fame', somewhere, became a 'get out of jail free' card in the game of life, one that is sought all too vociferously. A card played to excuse one's self from the harsh realities of having to make a go at things? Who knows. And it's a tough cycle to break - an existential loop of wanting something because others pointlessly spawn demand for it.

Nope. I don't envy the bods at the CPC at all.

Kosmos 1171

So, we finally got around to putting out our new short, 'Kosmos 1171'.

Getting this bad boy shot and finished has been just part of the blur of frenzied activity here at Zoo-Towers of late. Nonetheless, we got there. Interestingly, this is fast stacking up the viewing figures over at Funny Or Die and, as of now, I think it's our fastest growing short. Whether this represents a trend - bloody-nosed persistence paying off, or just some very bored people - I'm not sure. Anyway, without any further bother, here it is:

Kosmos 1171 - watch more funny videos

In other news here at Zoo HQ, I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow with Solid Jelly über-commander Rob Forsyth to discuss the evolution / future development of 'Jelly Telly'. This has been accepted incredibly well by some rather illustrious clients (to my utter delight), and it's time to start honing and sharpening those writing fingers.

Remember - it's NOT for brickwork

How remiss of me. In the maniac flurry of activity this week, I almost forgot to share the first 'Jelly Telly' segment. Written for Solid Jelly, the flick has been up nearly a week on the Solid Jelly channel while I work on the second installment. Anyway, said mania ensues - and so I must bid thee adieu.

Solid Jelly

Well then, pop-pickers. I am able now to talk about my involvement with Solid Jelly, a new business strategy and growth consultancy fronted up by the constantly effervescent Robin Forsyth.

Robin has, to my delight and surprise asked me to write and help produce comedy video segments for 'Jelly TV' - the streaming video element of the new business website. The videos will communicate the core philosophies of the Solid Jelly model, while at the same time - dare we propose - try to have a bit of a laugh. The comedic synergies there are purely intentional - and tie with Rob's values that sustainable business development need not be accompanied with a dirty great frown.

More to follow as it happens, I guess. Writing has started already in the most earnest and frantic of modes - what else would pass as acceptable here at Zoo Towers? Perhaps getting a trained Peacock to do the writing for me, using a complicated pulley-system driven by the fanning of its tail. That could pass as 'OK' here.

TTFN, beauties.

It Just Works ™

This really is one of the most sought after states of Zen in the pantheon of IT industry achievement.

It's an expectation of the end user. A demanded birth-right...

Yet a heavy cross to bear for those that would implement this particular bed of roses. Indeed, to paraphrase the old adage, that bold enabler is not the one that comes up smelling of the titular flowers in this transaction.

Managing expectation is only as good as expecting those at the receiving end of your labours to be managed. Before I delve completely into the territory of the The Sphinx, I'll try to explain this.

We live in a plug n' play culture now. Deny it as me may, we can't fight the observation that, in a strange parallel to that most ubiquitous of technologies, we know what we want and just want it happen. We may not know how, where, or indeed why - but we want it now. We've become short, impatient, and demanding with others and ourselves. And in the process lost just a wee bit of perspective.

We set out a precedent, in all areas of our lives, by expecting that which can only be provided by the super-structure known as 'they'. 'They', that unknown third-party entity in our lives that seem to have all the answers. But here's the rub - we are 'they'. All of us, in our own way, are enablers or providers of something that someone else needs. Quite often, that person most in need is ourself. Unable to see beyond the end of noses, we fail to realise that help can come, inexplicably, from within. 

And so we re-enter the cycle of perceived dependance and...well. Round and round we go. 

It was from this nugget that was blocking me brain-pipes that it became clear. Anything from screenwriting issues through to personal problems are nearly always riffing on something going on inside of us. By establishing heartfelt connectivity with the gremlin pulling the wrong levers, it's possible to sidestep, if not totally surmount these potholes. In the same way I'm learning to write from the heart, I think we need sometimes to learn to live from it as well.

There's bugger all wrong with trying, anyway.

Monday of The Dead

Mondays. 

For some, they're a weekly festival of the mundane; each routinely passing by with the regular monotony of hassle and problems. Gouges cut by time's withered claw continue to be countable in increasing volume as the continuum of our lives is etched out by the bitch.

For others, Monday brings the required bitter lemon on which to suck. A stark, citric jolt that motivates us to blast away the cobwebs of indecision and apathy and just...well, bleedin' get on with it, really.

I think I probably fall down the sweaty crack between both of these camps.

There's a strong desire to let the chugging juggernaut of 'meh' thunder over us, flattening us into one giant Monday pancake that poor Tuesday has to reconstitute. Why do we do it to each other? I'm never sure, but I think it has to do with vague notions of 'responsibility'. Allusions to being 'mature' and taking control of life according to a pre-set schedule that somehow marks us out as capable. Run as we might, we may avoid the steam-rolling monolith as as it tears on by, yet not without it rolling over our figurative and collective toes in the process.

So, then.

Onwards and forwards. I'm eagerly awaiting more news on 'The Whale In The Room' which has now entered production and will be directed by James Robinson of BBC Radio Four. I've got two screenplays on the burner - and burn they will, until they reach a point of crispiness I am satisfied with. One of these beasts (a horror) was intended for submission for the opportunity kindly shouted up via Danny Stack, but in all honesty it just isn't ready.

And one should never submit work that isn't ready - in the same way raw eggs don't taste dandy, neither do raw treatments.