Memories of us

...thats when I realised that my love for Paris wasn't so entwined with my memory of us that it wouldn't survive our final goodbye and at that moment I knew that continuing forward wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility.
I knew I could be OK.
If only I trusted what I already knew.

Philippe Petit and dreams that are worth chasing

Philippe Petit blew my mind when I saw him in Man on wire today. I felt close to him somehow, like a connection was tangible. Like I got him and he understood me better than I could possibly have been understood by anybody else that I had known before now. Like he knew that dreams were worth chasing. Like we would one day be able to connect and, knowingly nodding our heads at each other, we would reach out and embrace, knowing that this moment meant more than any moments before. That this now meant that our pasts were not wasted because they created the opportunity for this connection. He inspired me to strive.

"I have to conquer this." Philippe whispered to me with a passion I hadn't heard before.

My experiences with Cyndi Lauper

Cyndi Lauper came to me one time. In a typical New York tone she asked me what the fuck I was looking at and after I reminded her that she had come to me, she smiled, called me a prick and playfully punched my arm.
Cyndi and I had that kind of relationship, where you could never be quite sure where you stood. It was OK. I knew what I was getting myself in for and it never much mattered to me how she treated me anyhow, I just wanted to be around her.
"Cyndi and I are friends, she gets me." I'd tell anybody that'd listen. "Trouble is we're both so busy."
Truth be told, I'd only met her three times but I knew what we felt transcended time, that nothing meant anything before.
Before her.
Before us.
Before this.
Cyndi Lauper changed my life.
She gave me my smile back.

July 20th 2009, 9.56pm

I wrote this yesterday in hopes that something would happen...
40 years ago today the 1st man landed on the moon. Since then space travel has advanced tremendously but no trip has captured the publics imagination as much as 1969s. More than 1,000,000 people travelled to NASA to watch the rocket take off. I so want to have been a part of that. So that I can have the "Where were you when...?" story like my Dad does. Instead I have the "Where were you 40 years on...?" story. For the record I was on my bedroom floor watching Brothers and Sisters on TV. The sky was too cloudy to see the stars. I tried looking to see if the moon was celebrating but I couldn't see. It felt upsetting somehow & I was let down. I thought they'd be a celebration perhaps.
...Maybe I'll dream about a marvellous moon spectacle in honour of Apollo 11,...maybe.

Farrah way, my dreams became real

I miss Farrah Fawcett far more than I thought I would. Life seems different somehow. In remembrance I'm considering recreating the most sold poster of all time. I just want to be a part of something magical.

Abraham and me

On the death of Abraham Lincoln, "Now he belongs to the ages."
-Edwin Stanton, 7.22am, April 15th 1865. I want this too.

Space travel makes my heart flutter

I've been thinking alot about Apollo 8 recently. How those guys orbited the moon and changed the way that we viewed our possibilities as people. How they made it exciting to ask 'What am I capable of?' rather than us asking it with trepidation and uncertainty.

The images of the earth rising over the moon enthralled a generation, made us feel, in equal measures, so big and so small, like there was something beyond us worth fighting to achieve.

I looked up at the moon yesterday and felt nothing but hope. Hope that I could make something happen. Hope that life will be as exciting as Apollo 8. Hope that I will discover new worlds.
We should look at the sky more often and be open to our capabilities as people.

Winona and Marc

When Winona Ryder stole those Marc Jacobs socks, she stole my heart.
I want to feel the way Winona Ryder felt when she stole those Marc Jacobs socks.

Breakfast club envy.

I want to be a member of The Breakfast Club...or at the very least have my hair look like Molly Ringwalds. When I saw her face my heart melted and my hightops wanted to run to her. I checked my swatch watch and called reverse charge on my burger phone, listening for anybody who could get me closer to Molly Ringwald, the teen queen of the 80s elite....

Everything I've wanted to be since then

I existed once. Watch my film at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAVjrPWxW0U and be ready to have your mind blown. Or at the very least laugh a little and confront your own fears.

Also check out my brand new film-Especially for you- at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfF9r4k8cGs

Its really worth while.

Macaulay Culkin should make a comeback, or at least write a book. I'd like to look like him.

Initial Thomatron

In the hopes that I may become more interesting I have decided to jump aboard the Blog train and ride it until the wheels come off (or at least get a little wobbly.)
Here you will find my work, my ideas, my mind and any indecent witticisms that happen to drip from my lips, penetrating the keys on my keyboard.
I will not talk about cricket.
I will not talk about dried meats.
I will not talk about Canada.