Paul Schiernecker

Blog

  • Saturday on my mind.

    I’m sat in my car. It’s amazing how nice it can be sometimes to just drive off and sit in your car. People assume you are just waiting for someone and don’t bother you. I’m not waiting for anyone although I do have an appointment.
    The reason I’m here is I thought I had time to go and pick up my Mac before my appointment but woke up late. I rushed out the house, started driving and then realised I wouldn’t be able to get my Mac and be back for my appointment so I am just sat in a car park waiting for my appointment time. I wish I had brought Ham On Rye with me now. I’m very close to the end of it.

    The reason I felt it was rush worthy to bound out the house this morning is I have an awful lot of work to do. There are two articles I’m working on, plus my new novel, a screenplay and I need to review my previous novel and short stories before sending them off.
    It’s nice though. I like having too much to do. It’s a darn sight better than having absolutely nothing to do. I’ve sort of been on a personal hiatus as I waited for my Mac to be fixed and the day is finally here. I reiterate the lessons here.
    With my Mac back in possession though I can get on with all of this work I need to do to pull me out of my nine to five funk. Please let me eventually break out. I’m not meant for this.

  • Life Of Pi – an almost review.

    A year ago I picked up a free download of a book in Starbucks. I’m a sucker for a freebie as we should all be. The book turned out to be Life Of Pi by Yann Martel. I knew absolutely nothing about it at the time. That’s going to be the problem with cinema audiences. It’s hard to arrive at a cinema completely blind to the content of a film. There are trailers, there are billboards, there are premiere specials and interviews with the stars and directors, there is merchandise.
    All I had to go on was the cover, and as we all know you should never judge a book in that way.

    Last night I finally got to see Life Of Pi in the cinema. I had been told to see it in 3D and unusually, it was a worthwhile investment. I don’t want to say anything about the story, I will just say it is a spectacular piece of filmmaking and there were moments when my mouth was agape in the sheer beauty of it all despite already being aware of the eventual outcome. Ang Lee has performed an incredible feat in bringing a beloved book to film, and while there are moments that feel slightly stretched for the sake of backstory it is worthy of its recent Academy Award nominations.

    The CGI is flawless, completely. My head is still spinning as I attempt to establish exactly how parts of it were done. It has a delirious aspect to some scenes that work so well. It’s close enough to the book in terms of the look and characters and there is no spin or Hollywood ending for the sake of it.

    Go and see it.
    Read the book first actually.
    Read it very quickly.
    Then go and see it.
    For Richard Parker.

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  • Bon Voyage Ben.

    Last night I met up with my friend Ben. We first met at University where it was discovered we were never going to be the loud and raucous members of the group but had a similarly disgusting sense of humour. Ben taught me about Belle & Sebastian and Sufjan Stevens and I will forever be in his debt for that.

    The reason Ben and I met up last night is he had a couple of hours to spare before he moved to Valencia. I tried to explain to him how cool this was, and how admirable it is from the other side of the looking glass where I am most definitely at. He explained once you get over the original shock of a new location you quickly settle into the same routine you would undertake anywhere. He just needs a bit of space, a coffee shop and a supermarket to function.
    Ben turned up with just one bag, small enough to be considered hand luggage. That’s all he is taking. He performed a similar trick last year when we met at London Bridge days before he flew out to Granada.

    Ben is lucky in that he can take the work he does; and thanklessly enjoys, anywhere with him. Technically I suppose a lot of people do that but we are worlds away from the hypothetical here.
    He has promised to write more personal stuff this year and I’m looking forward to it. It’s rare to find someone with such drive to go where he wants to go and let everything else settle around him.

    I just wanted to take a moment to wish him the best of luck with the move, and to tell him that he’s on my rolling list of personal heroes.

    “Come out and see me” he said as we said goodbye at the train station.
    It’s looking awfully tempting, it really is.

  • Commuting with Dad.

    It sounds like an awful 80’s coming of age film but its just how my morning has been.

    This morning my Dad has a training course in Blackfriars so joined me on my daily commute to Liverpool. It’s odd to see someone who doesn’t travel to London every day try to deal with the morning commute. It’s all so alien to them. My Dad said he doesn’t know how anyone could do it every day.

    The fact is I would miss my time commuting if I ever worked more locally. I embrace my time on the train. It’s odd to me to think of not doing it just as it is weird for him to imagine anyone doing it regularly.

    I left him at the corner and hope he’s alright. It’s terrifying to think where he could have got to.

  • Lessons of 2013: #1

    Don’t try to emulate some kind of MTV Cribs-like lifestyle by taking your thousand pound laptop into the bathroom with you.

    My expectation had been to watch the latest episode of Elementary on my laptop while I was in the bath.
    My reality is I haven’t had a laptop in three weeks and have to pay well over the odds to get it fixed.

    The good news is there is no permanent damage. This brings me to Lesson #2 – Back up your shit.
    I don’t think I’ve ever backed up this laptop. I’ve written two complete novels on it, all my music is on there; both the music I’ve made and music I listen to, my pictures, videos. I can’t really think about what I would have done if it had all gone.
    I also never deleted the Internet History so I’m sure they all had a good laugh over my appreciation of the female form.

    When the genius/tech from Apple called me yesterday he asked if anything had been spilled upon the laptop because what he was seeing was reminiscent of water damage. I held back from screaming “I DIDN’T TAKE IT IN THE TUB” and just played ignorant. That’s always key.

    That concludes today’s lesson.
    Go back it up now.

  • Shambling back onto the stage.

    Last night I had my first gig of 2013.
    Last year probably held my lowest playing figures. I tend to just sit in my room and play guitar. I don’t really think about the idea of other people hearing it unless its on YouTube.

    I turned up and grew more and more terrified through sound check. There didn’t seem to be any musicians in the ‘cabaret show’ at all. Everyone was powering their way through show tunes. I tentatively got up onstage, and said “I’m sorry. This isn’t from a musical”. There was a titter of laughter from somewhere and I knew everything was going to be okay.

    The thing to remember about musical theatre and performing arts and those guys is you have to be an incredible singer to do it. They all were. There wasn’t a bum note or a dry eye in the house and then I got up and performed some accidental slapstick with microphones, leads and a stool before being ready to play.

    My setlist was as follows:
    – Everybody Want To Be A Cat.
    – Get Me To Marrakech.
    That was it.

    Everyone did two songs. I’ve never had a set that short. I guess it’s how they roll in twirley circles. I was really pleased with my performance and it was well received. I think I was some kind of light relief.

    I went to the bar afterwards and got chatting to the only other two guys there who played instruments. The nice thing about open mic type situations is you tend to club together and support the fact you’ve all spent a hideous amount of time strumming away alone in your bedroom.

    As it turned out Scott & Anthony were very good and we spent the rest of the evening rubbing each others backs and egos. They’ve asked if I’m free next weekend to jam. We will see what happens.

    It was nice to just get out of the house and play. It’s become a rare treat and I’m not entirely sure why.

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    Pre-gig tradition. Get scared. Hide in the toilet.

  • Write here, write now.

    I’m having a lovely Sunday.
    I’ve written a review of Beach Fossils new album. I’ve started work on a feature piece for Screen Geek and now I’m typing up an idea for a book I had yesterday.
    It’s good to have this time.

  • Homelessness is next to godliness.

    Last night I watched the last of the films I was bought as Christmas presents. It was Stuart: A Life Backwards, a 2008 BBC drama about Stuart (Tom Hardy), a homeless man befriended by Cambridge toff and writer Alexander (Benedict Cumberbatch).
    It’s a moving story about how Alexander tries to unravel what drives a man to drink, drugs and homelessness. It’s startling and incredible. It left me completely in awe of both leads as actors and made me question my own attitude towards the homeless.

    I will always give change to the homeless. This is going to sound controversial but I don’t care if they are spending it on drink or drugs. If that is where they choose to seek comfort then so be it. Watching Stuart last night I realised there is a reason people end up in that situation, they don’t just run away from home, a lot of them have faced terrible pasts, terrible childhoods and they are existing in the only option available to them.

    I think there is still an incredible stigma around being homeless, as though they are beggars of nineteenth century literature. Sat on that box or in that sleeping bag is a person, and they should be treated as such.

  • Appreciation.

    I’m on the train. The sun isn’t up yet. My sweet ‘Man Friday’ Wiggles is feigning sleep beside me. I’m hoping the sunrise is nice today. I look forward to that each morning.
    At this time of year the sun starts to rise when I am somewhere between Shenfield and Stratford on my commute. Most people on the train don’t even notice these things in the way I doubt they notice the drawings their children have made that day or when their spouses have made an extra effort with personal presentation or a meal.
    It amazes me how oblivious people can be to the beautiful things in life and you can call me a stinky liberal hippie all you want but I think a sunrise is one of the most incredible things.

    I remember at Glastonbury 2011 when I insisted on our last night we go and see the sunrise because on the previous night when everyone else had gone I had greened out and passed out in my tent.
    The only two people who would come with were off their faces on cheap whizz and kept jabbering about paper lanterns. Then we saw Thom Yorke lumbering towards us out of the mist. My friend Mike accused him of thinking he was in Harry Potter. He paid no attention and headed off in a different direction. We headed off to pretend we were Druids.
    That morning was so cloudy the sunrise was just varying greys but they were the best varying greys I can recall.

    What was my point? Oh yeah, appreciate things.

  • An idea.

    I was just on my regular walk to the station and was hit by an overwhelming desire to open a coffee shop. It wasn’t just a fleeting thought, it stuck with me for a good five minutes.
    In that time I had come up with several names (WooWooCoolBastards, Cafe Days, Hoodoo) and tried to work out how I could get an extended license so I could start putting on open mic nights and a quiz night and maybe even have a couple of bands on at the weekend and then I could get an alcohol license but I would only sell one kind of beer and Jack Daniels. We would do proper coffee from a machine but also ‘dishwater coffee’ at 50p a cup so students could come in and have somewhere and not be turfed out because they didn’t have £3 for a coffee like other places. I’d have a bookshelf that had copies of all the best books and people could borrow them if they left something for the cafe behind.
    I would perform at the open mic and organise the quiz and live in a little flat above and there would be no set opening and closing times, it would just be what I felt like and the music would be whatever I felt like. I could sit in there and write, finally comfortable that there was a coffee shop I wouldn’t get leered at simply because it was shelter to write in because I would be the owner and everyone would know it.

    All of this ran through my head and then I got on the train and realised it wouldn’t happen.

Paul Schiernecker

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