Jamie Drew

I touched some more things at the Museum of London today, but they encourage that with most of the...

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 19:21:22 +0000

I touched some more things at the Museum of London today, but they encourage that with most of the exhibits left ‘out in the open.’ No challenge, no fun. Touching MoL’s things felt like winning a medal for participation.

On tactition.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 11:19:00 +0000

Whatever it is, the Big Thing is made of black marble, buffed and polished twice daily, devoid of sticky fingerprints despite the crowds of schoolchildren wandering about the British Museum this afternoon. It might be a sarcophagus or an Ancient Egyptian jacuzzi. It’s smooth, and cool to the touch.

I am touching it because the placard says PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE EXHIBITS and I took that as an affront. So here I am, laying my index finger upon it; who are they to deny me my free will? I walked past the Rosetta Stone to get here, protected in its glass case. It’s not even the real Rosetta Stone! It’s a replica! The real Rosetta Stone is down in the basement where I can’t be told not to touch it! Why can I touch this old jacuzzi but not a fake Rosetta Stone?

From the other side of the Big Thing, Laura gapes over at me. “What are you doing?” she says. If her voice had a face, it might be horror, but more likely it’s tired resignation.

To hell with the British Museum and its rules. I’m touching everything. By the time we find the exit, I have touched thirteen more things. That ought to show them.

NOTE TO SELF

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 14:58:00 +0000

I have three deadlines today, so this is a placeholder because I will forget.

Wait, no, five. I have five deadlines today.

This is a reminder to my future self: future self, remember to blog about the Saturday Film School and also, that short film I made aged sixteen that I had purged from my memory until yesterday when dozens of people asked me what I’d actually done in the past. It was called Sex and Violence. It was rubbish, obviously, but mercifully short.

To include:

a couple of jokes
Tarantino references
my super-interesting origin story
pathos
bathos
Aramis
the time I was a drug dealer in a friend’s short film
the time I turned out to be the villain in that film because the actor playing the real villain didn’t show up that day
the time I met Elliott Grove, Founder of Raindance at the bar and had no idea what to say so just muttered something about not being able to find a cash machine and he just looked at me from behind his dark glasses being just about the coolest gooddamn person in the room
that last thing was yesterday
I’m still not over it
I may never be over it

“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.” — Henri...

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 13:03:46 +0000

“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.” — Henri Cartier-Bresson

In which we forget ourselves

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 21:38:22 +0000

In which we forget ourselves:

I started a new thing over at CSICON. Well, any of the writers can do it, but damn it, I made it up. It’s a series of weekly articles about tropes — you know, those little tricks writers make use of so they can emotionally manipulate you. Have you ever been to TV Tropes? Don’t go there. You’ll never find your way out again.

Instead, the Tuesday Tropes series looks at the history and practical function of common elements in fiction. It started out as a kind of writer’s workshop, and you can use it as such if you want. I certainly am: the opening paragraph for this entry on amnesia is actually an excerpt from the alternate-history-western-noir Rex and Tex, about the friendship between the mystery-solving duo that is a cowboy in a Cadillac and his partner, who is a carnivorous dinosaur.

You know, a modern classic in the making. Exclusive to CSICON!

The Silver Surfer, by Francesco Francavilla. No other character...

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 09:55:00 +0000

The Silver Surfer, by Francesco Francavilla. No other character screams “spirit of the 1960s” quite as loud as a interstellar surfboarding hippy warning of the apocalypse on the hands of mankind.

I think I’ve peaked too early in my writing career.

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 15:55:00 +0000

I think I’ve peaked too early in my writing career.

I have business cards now, so if you ever ask me what I do, I...

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 15:02:55 +0000

I have business cards now, so if you ever ask me what I do, I will give you my card. If you ever ask me how I am, I will give you my card. If you ever ask me anything, ever, I will give you my card. The moral of this little story here is probably to never talk to me again, because I will give you my card.

And even then, you might reach into the pocket of that winter coat you wear perhaps once a year, and your fingers might curl around something small and narrow and hard. You’ll pull it out, whatever it is. It will say JAMES DREW: WRITER.

Before then, though, I’ll be handing them out next week at the Raindance Institute’s Saturday Film School. There’s a “networking event” afterwards, which I understand to be “drinks at a pub round the corner,” and I was all, well, time to get me some business cards.

These cards were designed by Kristine Chatterjie, and the story of how she came to design them is a real testament to The Connecting Power Of The Internet. We’ve been tumblr-pals for a while, and we graduated to Gchat, and over that I asked for advice regarding what the hell I’m supposed to do here to make a nice card. Probably sensing that I wouldn’t understand a goddamn word of her advice, she just went ahead and made this graphic.

LIFE ADVICE: it really doesn’t matter what you drive,...

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 17:38:00 +0000

LIFE ADVICE: it really doesn’t matter what you drive, unless you’re a mech pilot. If that’s the case, I will be needing your address for the Valentine’s I will be sending to you.

Mr Jack (via brain-food)

And finally, some more Alison Pill, because we can’t turn...

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 02:30:07 +0000

And finally, some more Alison Pill, because we can’t turn back now, dear reader. Photographs by Anna Wolf for The Lab Magazine.

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF KIM PINE — Bryan Lee O’Malley Free...

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 02:21:13 +0000

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF KIM PINE — Bryan Lee O’Malley

Free Comic Book Day 2007

Pages: 1 · 2 · 3 · 4

Some of you called for redheads, some of us (me) called for MORE...

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 02:11:00 +0000

Some of you called for redheads, some of us (me) called for MORE HOT CANADIANS. I present to you, a hot Canadian redhead: Kim Pine! Kim Pine of the Scott Pilgrim series, played by Alison Pill in the film! What do you mean, it doesn’t count if they’re fictional?

Of course it counts. Kim Pine is basically the perfect woman.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t take advantage of the Tumblr...

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 01:48:17 +0000

Sometimes I feel like I don’t take advantage of the Tumblr “format” so here we go with a photograph of Béatrice Martin sans commentary. Do you feel what I feel, dear reader? Do you? Because I could do this for the rest of the night. I made a special tag and everything.

I saw this picture of Béatrice Martin (a.k.a. Coeur de...

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 01:26:00 +0000

I saw this picture of Béatrice Martin (a.k.a. Coeur de Pirate) on Ned Hepburn’s blog and I had to post it, because I’ve been drinking and da-yumn, but I also felt obliged to add this song firstly because it’s quite a good album — like a Regina Spektor album with the annoying parts edited out — but secondly, because I feel like I have to justify the fact I find her all sorts of attractive.

No, I don’t know why I have to justify it either, I mean, if this tattooed Canadian singer-songwriter… sweet Olfather, those eyes… then I — what was I writing about again?

Actually, I’ve been informed I have an umbrella fetish for Canadians, so maybe that’s all there is to it. You can probably ignore this post, then.

I’ve set the day aside for reading, which means I’ve...

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 16:19:00 +0000

I’ve set the day aside for reading, which means I’ve read the screenplays for Bridesmaids, Source Code and a couple of Seinfeld episodes since lunch. I’m not entirely sure why I feel like my love for Seinfeld is a guilty pleasure, since it’s one of the best-written studio sitcoms out there, especially for ‘bottle episodes’ like The Chinese Restaurant, which I just finished off.

What’s interesting is the length of the script for The Chinese Restaurant – 40 pages for a 20-minute episode – most of which is taken up by the dialogue, and how it’s weighted heavily towards the first act. What I want to do is compare this to a script from the first season, when I assume the characters’ voices weren’t quite down yet.

I applied for a job as a ‘script developer’ the other day, but they told me that I’d need some professional experience to collect the £180-a-consultancy, so that’s one more awesome job I’m not remotely qualified for in this universe.

I hate this stupid universe.

Lorene Scafaria’s Seeking a Friend for the End of the...

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:09:21 +0000

Lorene Scafaria’s Seeking a Friend for the End of the World appeals to that part of me – that very large part – that spends a lot of time thinking about what I’d do if an asteroid were heading for our planet, or if we were staring down the barrel of a grey goo situation. Usually it’s zombies, of course, but when you’re daydreaming it’s important to mix it up occasionally.

Since the snow began to fall a few days ago, I’ve been having these amazingly fucked-up dreams about the end of the world as we know it (a recurring theme in my subconscious), and in my dreams I manage to survive them. Patently ridiculous, sure, but all the best apocalyptic stories aren’t really about the end of humanity but the survival of the worst part of it in microcosm. What’s my brain trying to say to me?

Last night it was the rise of the snow golems, marking their first appearance in my dreams. I’d say they were analagous to the hrímþursar of Norse mythology, the frost giants of Niflheim, but you and I both know that they probably seeped in from Marvel’s Thor comics.

And I really want to tell you that I figured out the frost giants’ weakness – you know, fire – and tooled up with a flamethrower, but it wasn’t as good as all that. I probably just sat down and talked through my problems with the frost giants around a gigantic tea set. My dreams are like a pretentious indie film that fizzles out after I’ve exhausted the two or three scenes implied by the concept. You might recognise this phenomenon from my writing.

The worst part of that restaurant job was all the photography students that wandered down from the...

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 16:52:05 +0000

The worst part of that restaurant job was all the photography students that wandered down from the university and asked to take my picture while I propped the advert against the wall of a shopfront, headphones in my ears, a book open in my hands. There were about three of them per day, and all of them clearly thought I was homeless.

In case it wasn't obvious,

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 15:57:07 +0000

all of that fake reference was a joke. Or, if you prefer, a great big lie. I’m good at lying, and that is why you should consider my short story for publication in your magazine.

You need to provide two (2) references in order to apply for this position, it says. One of them...

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 15:54:00 +0000

You need to provide two (2) references in order to apply for this position, it says. One of them academic, the other professional. I haven’t been at university for, oh, seven months now, so my clinical tutor probably doesn’t remember me… but the professional reference shouldn’t be a problem.

“Hey,” I say to an old workmate over facebook, “I need to check the address of that restaurant we both used to work at, which I don’t actually want to name on the internet.”

“Do you mean the place where part of the job description was to take it in turns to stand outside in the freezing Northern rain to hold a sign directing people to the restaurant that had ostensibly hired us as waiters?”

“The very same.”

“Yeah, that place doesn’t exist any more.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Well, fuck, indeed.”

I don’t know if this counts as one of the four-things-a-week I have to do in order to qualify for Jobseeker’s Allowance, but I wrote down I need to find a new professional reference in any case. Job done.

And then it hits me — I’ve listed myself as ‘self-employed’ as a freelance writer, which is technically true, and since we’re being technical about it, surely I can just list myself as a professional reference.

So in case you need a reference for James Drew, here it is:

Jamie Drew? Wow, where do I even begin?

He set up this whole enterprise, you know. A professional man in a very loose sense of the word. Maybe progressive is a better one. He acknowledges his deadlines in a very zen kind of way, in that his assignments are never handed in late. Nor do they appear early. They arrive, and that’s enough for him. Since Jamie’s arrival, stress in the workplace is at an all-time low.

During his time with me, who is himself, Jamie has proven that he can work in a large team of multi-disciplinary professionals, including his brain, his ass (which is genereally ordered to stay in the chair until these 500 words are done), his leathered fingertips, and whatever organ processes all that terrible coffee.

By which I mean, the coffee itself is terrible, not Jamie’s skill at making it. He prepares it excellently, with a lover’s eye for detail: Jamie tries to find the endearing qualities in the terrible coffee, even if its only endearing quality is that it was expensive, and the company (Jamie) can’t afford any more right now. This is exactly the kind of attitude he brings to the workplace. Treat him however you like; he knows he’s got no choice in the matter.

Subservience, that’s what you want from an employee, and Jamie Drew has it in spades. In summary, you should give him money at regular intervals over the next however long his attention span lasts.

Follow-up questions on the matter should be directed to my assistant, who is – in the interests of full disclosure – also me. He will make sure I get the message. I run a tight ship.

Photo

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 16:50:57 +0000