Paul Schiernecker

Author: Paul

  • Never completely sane.

    I’m a big fan of the over the top, throw things around, slam doors and smash things strop. I think it’s entirely healthy as a past time. What I don’t like is how I feel in the moments after, it opens something up, something bottled, something I don’t want to deal with.

    I had one last night you see, and it’s got me questioning my motives in flipping out. It sounds really stupid to discuss it but I think it’s a part of my OCD, of things aren’t done in a particular way then I flat-out flip out. It doesn’t help that nobody will lift a finger at home because they expect me to do it all, because I always have, because I have OCD. It drives me mad when things aren’t done, or aren’t done to my specifications and they know it, they know that if they just leave it I will do it, because I always have, and I always will.

    It’s quite an odd thing when you consider how sloppy my personal appearance is the majority of the time.

  • Blank white page.

    I’m pleased to announce that I am well on the way with some new writing. With a little assistance from Life Rapture’s very own Benjamin Spall I am planning on releasing a book of short stories on Kindle in the coming months. At the moment I’m calling it ‘Where Did All The Money Go’ after one of the stories included in the collection but essentially it is stuff that I couldn’t wedge into my novel and is too good to just leave as a memory.

    You can expect a return from the boys of Situation One as well as a host of other characters as we journey through ‘The Night of the Fridge Graveyard’, Crazy Wheelchair Pot’, ‘Madcat on the Prowl’ and plenty of others. I’m excited, and I’m the one writing it. It’s just nice to be stepping away from the novel as I close on the redrafting phase that has consumed me in the last couple of months. I’m pleased that people who had a huge impact on the three years I spent at Uni can get a look in now when they might not have been present for the dizzy highs in the novel.

    Keep your eyes peeled, I’ll keep you updated.

  • Bridger at 14,000 feet.

    Today Luke Bridger (my dear friend/ bandmate/ co-writer) jumped out of a motherflipping plane. He raised over £500 for Little Havens hospice and best of all managed to deal with us trash talking him for five hours.

    We set out this morning before seven (me, Luke, Luke, Flopsy and Ben) and managed to cover The Human Centipede, Hot air balloon disasters and vomit as topics in the hour and a half it took us to get to Headcorn Parachute Club in Kent via a McDonalds breakfast. The closer we got, the paler Luke turned until he literally could not stand our support anymore. Even when I kindly gave him my headphones and serenaded him with the R Kelly megahit I Believe I Can Fly he called me a dick and walked away. If I had been in his position you wouldn’t have got me into a van let alone the plane he then boarded. His last words were ‘seriously shut up’ as he headed away to suit up for his adventure through the clouds.

    He jumped solo, pulled his ‘chute unassisted and I think has now forgiven us for being the worst friends imaginable given the circumstances. I’m very proud of him, the little wonder.

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  • Mancrush Friday – Simon Amstell

    A lot of the reason I fancy Simon Amstell is that he’s thin, Jewish and has big hair. These are the same reasons I fancy myself, what can I say, I have a type.

    I’ve watched him and liked him since Popworld and he’s one of the few man crushes I have who is obtainable (because he’s gay and single). I was at the Roundhouse a couple of years ago for a gig and he was there, and he gave me the eye, and I think that only served to increase the obsession. Sometimes I forget I’m not watching a home video when Grandma’s House is on, and I don’t know if I stole his mannerisms because he’s so adorable or if I’m just also adorable, I hope it’s the latter.

    The only thing that stops me is the awkward morning after when we can’t work out who’s vintage indie jumper is who’s.

  • Got to get down on Friday.

    I feel absolutely fantastic this morning. I got up and ran two miles listening to Bombay Bicycle Club while the sun came up which is possibly the best way to begin a day. I think it helped that I had such a good time last night. It was my return to the improvised comedy workshop. What I realised last night is just how close I am to those guys, I thought initially it was a little business like or a little snobbish because they all have a background in the arts but we actually get on incredibly well, I feel a lot more comfortable in front of them than I do other people. I think it helps that they genuinely make me laugh, there were moments last night when I was actually in danger of blacking out from laughing so hard. There are moments of puerile and childish jokes and there are moments of clever and eloquent puns and it’s just such a joy to be a part of. That’s enough gushing though.

    I’m on the train to work and I’m quite looking forward to that being out of the way because a group of us are going for dinner and then to see Woman In Black at the Fortune Theatre. I’ll probably review that tomorrow if I get a chance.

    As far as my weekend plans go I’m about one session (two hours) away from finishing the redraft of my novel. Then I’ll need to read it, get others to read it, and try and get myself a literary agent. I’ve already started on my next three projects and can’t wait to get my first out in the post. Tomorrow I’m going to watch a friend skydive for charity which I am quite looking forward to. I’ve never seen a skydive done before and I am very proud of him for doing something so daring for charity.

    That should be enough for now right?
    Peace&Love.

  • Pointless.

    Last night I went to see Pointless being recorded with my two pet Lukes. I don’t think I’ve ever watched it before but it was better than a kick in the teeth. It’s pretty much the opposite of Family Fortunes, by which I mean it isn’t hosted by a cunt.

    What amazed me was how annoyed I was by the rest of the audience, I think this is just further evidence of me becoming a cranky old man. Behind me there were a few solid Chelsea & Kensington type arseholes who would pretend they knew the answers as soon as they were revealed and next to them were the aborted version of One Direction, one of whom insisted on kicking my chair until I backed it into his shin. I really hate people. They almost ruined Alexander Armstrong for me.

  • A terrifying realisation on my way into London

    This morning I ran into three friends from school and we ended up commuting together up to the big smoke. Once I was over my mild annoyance at not being able to read my book or write my blog because I was expected to chat I realised that the things we were discussing had taken place a decade before. That time we were running around the IT room playing Stick Cricket, that was TEN YEARS AGO!

    I’ve become an actual person since then, but it feels like the whole thing happened overnight. On the journey this morning we were talking about babies (not mine), mortgages (not mine) and girlfriends (including mine), those are adult conversations that grown ups have, and I was sat there thinking ‘when the fuck did that happen?’ Granted I’m probably the least grown up of the four of us (poo. bum. willy. etc!) but I had a terrifying realisation that we aren’t the kids in baggy school jumpers anymore.

    The strange thing was it took about thirty seconds for those ten years to reverse, as we gathered on the platform. The same kinship returned and we laughed about things that had happened and terrible things we had done and I felt young again.

  • Thoughts on a Tuesday.

    Last night my beautiful girlfriend was telling me how determined I’ve become in the pursuit of my dream of becoming a writer. She reads everything I write (god bless her) and has said that I should send my new sitcom script off as soon as possible, when in reality I had only written it to avoid working on my novel. What I love about her more than anything is the fact that she truly listens and she truly knows, I don’t know how many other people are like that, I’ve encountered a golden few in my years but there is a lot to be said for it. A lot of the time she becomes the person who has to staple together the nonsense stream of stuff I blurt out whenever I’m given the podium, and she does it with aplomb. It’s nice to be recognised for what I’ve become, and what I’m working towards. She came into my life when I was a bit lost and a bit fragile and she’s helped me come out the other side of it and I don’t think she really knows what role she played in that, no matter what I tell her.

    I am very lucky to have someone so understanding, someone who realises that I need space to write, I need solitary, but when I want love I turn to her.

  • The Great Gatsby

    I figured I should get this article in before people start getting involved in the film. For those of you who think books are boring (mugs) The Great Gatsby is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel set in 1920’s New York which is currently being adapted to film; for the seventh time, by Baz Luhrmann.

    The book follows Yale graduate Nick Carraway as he makes his first steps into his chosen career while chaperoning a number of affairs back and forth across Long Island. I thoroughly recommend it, considering its getting on for being a hundred years old it’s remarkably contemporary as well, it holds up against a lot more modern works.

    I came across the book as the result of reading other great American authors, namely Salinger and Thompson. The book is mentioned directly in Salinger’s Catcher and I know through research that Thompson would type out the manuscript to The Great Gatsby just to get the feel for it.

    What I will say is that while I’m sure it is safe in Luhrmann’s hands I worry I’m going to lose my vision of Major Jay Gatsby to DiCarpio forever later in the year.

  • Maybe I’m taking this genius recluse thing too far.

    I’ve got a horrible feeling I’m giving myself all kinds of phobias and turmoil by keeping up a massive pretence. I’m supposed to be a writer, someone who can only work if they are witnessing things, getting involved, having adventures and yet I insist on sitting in my room, hunched over my desk and hammering out my work. Something is awry.

    This week I’ve been off work with a virus, it not only served to cripple my stomach and creativity but also seemed to exacerbate my feelings of nausea and anxiety when I was out of the house. I put this down to me refusing to ever do anything fun anymore, I’ve sucked a lot of the enjoyment out of my life in order to shut myself in and write. I’m hoping that once I get this redraft out of the way I’ll loosen up a bit, be a bit more careful with myself, go and do things but it’s pretty all consuming. In the daftest way imaginable I am becoming obsessive and a workaholic. The problem is that I know that I can’t stay in my job forever (not that there is anything wrong with it) but because it isn’t what I feel I am supposed to be doing, I should be writing, and now that I’ve realised that, and got it hard I feel I should spend as much time as possible locked away doing just that, but without the balance of a life it’s not worth it. I know that the enjoyment is in getting there but I don’t even think I’m getting that at the moment, I just want it done and sent off, and then published so I can work on something else. I’m getting tired of the story, but rather than just giving up on it like I usually do, of getting bored and turned off I’m going to see it through, and give it to other people, and let them in and show them what it is that I’ve shut myself off from my friends for in the last year.

    I want to learn how to be fun again, I want to be free, I just feel a bit trapped.