justin_guber - @ 20six.co.uk

How Old is Old?

I was driving home from PJ earlier when a thought crossed my mind (as some of you may be aware from reading the other posts, quite a lot of thoughts cross my mind on a regular basis. I hear this is normal, but open to discussion).

I was thinking about Marty Beckerman. At 17, he self-published his first book, 'Death to all Teenagers'. He's now published another book at 21, 'Generation S.L.U.T.' and is regularly paid by writing articles for magazines about just how fucked up our generation is.

Orson Welles made his first film in his early twenties too (I think it was 24), and that film just happened to be 'Citizen Kane', one of the most celebrated movies of all time and changed the course of filmmaking history.

Spielberg, Coppola... twenty somethings too...

I'm twenty four, and I'm still trying. God, I feel old.

Sure, I shouldn't feel old. I'm not Beckerman. I'm not Welles. I'm not Copolla or Spielberg. But I'll be damned if I didn't think time was running out.

I mean, think about it. In six years time, I'll be thirty. I'll probably be married by then, and with great marriage comes great responsibility.

Wife: Honey, have you paid the school fees this year?

Me: Sorry, I just blew our life savings on a feature film about the mating habits of ants and how it is symbolic of early 21st century TV shows. What's wrong with homeschooling?

Wife: ...I think I'll go elope with the neighbors cat.

Times running out. I can feel it. I should've spent less time dreaming about how I'd make it one day writing or filmmaking or songwriting or whatever and instead should've just DONE it.

Something tells me the grammar in that last sentence was REALLY bad.

Fuck it. I'm gonna go google for toiletcam pics.

5.7.04 15:45

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Some Meetings Are Just TOO Long...

The meeting this morning started at 9am. It finished at 12.30pm, followed by an internal follow up over lunch. By the time I got back to the office it was 2pm.

Fun.

My brain's are now completely fried. I tried to explain to my AD and group head how the meeting went, but talking was too difficult. Later, a designer tried to have a short brainstorm with me. I couldn't understand anything that was being said.

Later I'll be recording another jingle with Saiful for Redrot. Let's hope the energy returns soon...

...

God, this is a dull fucking entry.

6.7.04 09:44

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The CUSU Drama Socety Is Proud To Present: Saj a.k.a. Carlito Q-Tip

There were originally two photos of the infamous Carlito Q-Tip, simply because the man leads a double life, but I'm a cunt, so I've only posted the one where he looks like capitalist scum.

By day, he's a mild mannered management consultant, and by night, Shoreditch super-hipster extraordinaire. One of the Ta-Dhin collective, an electronica/acoustica musician/DJ with a love for photoshopping ant heads on little children. I can't remember WHY we decided to call him Carlito Q-Tip. I'm sure it has something to do with an amusing anecdote about a Q-Tip, but I can't remember. I'm sure it has nothing to do with his manhood.

Or maybe he just likes to fuck people in the ear.

From the whole City crew, this is the one guy I still keep in contact with. He calls from time to time from his office phone claiming he's talking to important clients in Malaysia.

Interesting story about my man Saj:

At one point in this man's life, Saj was feeling rather down. Actually, that's an understatement. The guy was balls deep in depression over some girl (for reasons we shall not disclose) and, quite frankly, we were all sick of having a Dawson amongst us.

His musical playlist didn't help much, either. There's only so much happiness to be derived from endlessly listening to Tori Amos, Chris Isaac and the Dawson's Creek soundtrack Vol.1.

One day, I pulled him into my room, sat him in front of my laptop and said, "that's it. Listen to this".

A few heavy doses of Blink 182 and other pop-punk pap, and the man began to smile again. In retrospect, I should have realized I may have given him too heavy a dose when he started salivating over Linkin Park.

Oh, well. Could be worse. At least he's not into 'Busted'.

The most level-headed guy in the group, always there when you need a friend, and (during his uni years, at least) scapegoat of gay ambiguity jokes. Not anymore, though. Now he's super confident playa extraordinaire. We should all be so lucky to have a friend like Carlito.

God, that sounds sappy. Where's the creek?

7.7.04 06:08

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The Virus Is Here...

As opposed to e-mailing a shitload of you with crap that you're probably gonna delete, here're two things that piqued my curiosity:

1. THE PAOMNNEHAL PWEOR OF THE HMUAN MNID

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Amzanig huh?

2. SEX LESSONS FROM GRANNY

Learn from your elders. What I wanna know is, is this from past experience of years gone by or is she still 'honing her craft'?

7.7.04 06:29

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Senile Old Man Finally Accepts Emo As A Viable Form Of Formaldahyde...

As I drove to work this morning, I flipped through my Case Logic in search of the mornings musical accompaniment to the horrors of KL traffic, even at 9.30 in the morning. The Beat? Nah, not right now. Beastie Boys? CD doesn't play right. Outkast? More of a night thing. Finch? Hmmm... possible.

I admit it. I can kinda dig emo, but only in small doses.

Somewhere in the distance I can hear someone yell in cyberspace: Finch isn't emo!

My reply: Go suck an egg.

I can understand the fascination to it. If I was 16 right now, and was going through the same emotional rollercoaster that is teenage life, I'd be listening to Finch right now. I'd be moody, depressive, dressed in black, probably wearing the same black frame glasses I'm wearing now, and screaming out at the top of my lungs 'I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT... I MISS YOU!!! I MISS YOU SO!!!!'

Well, Iwouldn't really be screaming because I'm at work. Then again, I wouldn't be at work, 'cos I'd be sixteen.

Anyway.

But, yes, I can imagine it. I can relate. Of course, back in 1996 (Jesus Mary Joseph it was last century... I'm an old man...) I was screaming in my bedroom to the sound of Nirvana, sobbing in my dorm room to the Smashing Pumpkins and belting out 'Say It Ain't So' on my warped-neck-cracked-body Tanglewood acoustic.

Ok, so I was also sobbing to 'End of the Road', but don't we all at that age?

Same Yelling Bastard From Cyberspace: Sissy!
My Reply: What are you doing? I thought I told you to go suck an egg?

But yes, I'd be sobbing and wailing to Finch if it was around in my era. And who, pray tell, would I have been sobbing and wailing about whilst listening to 'Letters to You'?

Z[censored]A. And she's in town.

My girlfriend reading this at home: Who the flying FUCK is Z[censored]A?!
My reply: Shit.

Honey, I'll tell you the whole back story when I see you tomorrow, ok? Don't worry. I love YOU, ok sweetie? hugs n kisses...

Asshole from cyberspace: Haha! You're fucked now!
My reply: EGGS!!! SUCK on the EGGGGSSS, damn you!!!!

[Incidentally, I've censored her name since I'm going to be telling you a little something about her current situation, hence, being polite, I won't disclose her name. Then again, I'll probably get round to writing about her in the 'Friends & Foes' section, so any of you out there who are actually THAT fucking curious can figure it out for yourselves]

See, here's the thing. Z[censored]a's got a boyfriend. Boyfriend doesn't think much of me. In fact, boyfriend is very jealous of me. Boyfriend's coming down because she's now in the same country as me and wants to meet up.

I guess the fact she sent me an e-mail saying how she kinda kissed someone else and may even dump him even though in the end she didn't didn't help when the boyfriend accidentally found it [I swear, a fucking soap opera writer controls our very existence].

And this isn't the first time shit like this has happened with ex-girlfriends, godammit! I had one ex-girlfriend who's boyfriend was so jealous over the fact that we were still friends and I still existed that he went psycho on me. How psycho? Hmmm... nasty e-mails threatening to beat me up for calling him a 'prick' [understand, this man was ten years my senior, almost] followed by actual full frontal confrontation in a secluded gas station with the same threats before running at me and banging on my car to get me to come out and face him after I told him that if he's going to be childish, I'm going to fuck off, followed by the man actually sending thugs over to my apartment to give me a soung thrashing.

Incidentally, I was out of the house when that happened, which didn't sit well with my flatmate.

Is there some aura that I give off that makes men jealous of me? Deep down, I'd like to think so, then at least I could pretend I'm an alpha male for a bit, but I'm sure that's not the case.

And let's not forget the most important aspect: I got dumped by these girls FOR THESE GUYS. What the FUCK do they have to worry about?! I think the girls made it quite clear that they wanted no more hot Khai action when they decided to pick these guys instead, right? And isn't the fact that I can still be friends with them a GOOD thing, since I didn't fuck their lives up royally? [the latter can actually be argued against when it comes to one person in particular, depending on who's side of the fence your on. confused? Good].

Ah well. It's 7.49pm. I'm off home. Gotta record the Y2k jingle. At some point this week or next I'll be meeting Z[censored]a and her boyfriend, probably together with my girlfriend to prove that I am no threat. Hmm. Maybe I should just turn up in a dress.

Asshole in cyberspace: Crossdresser!
My reply: Your MOTHER'S a crossdresser!!! ...shit, that's not right...

7.7.04 13:52

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Experimenting with the web

I can always seem to write when I'm on the blog. Maybe it's the workplace. I've got a good vibe, here. Maybe its the feng shui...

Anyway, I've been pressed for time to write my script which I plan to insanely shoot this saturday, so I've just been writing it here. Check it out in 'Making the Movie' from the categories above.

8.7.04 08:50

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Almost there...

I've almost finished the script! Hallelujah! I've just got the finale to write, and it's all done... Check it out at the 'Making the Movie:Nicotine' section...

In other news, Kinokuniya apparently has a sale this week, 20% off. Just my luck that I buy my comics last week when there was no sale. There's a good chance that today myself and colleagues will be wasting yet more money at the great Jap bookstore.

More to come when I'm inspired to regurgitate. Ciaozer.

9.7.04 04:05

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The Unbearable Lightness of my Wallet...

I want my goddamn freelance cheque.

(Adlin, if you're reading this, I don't mean the KLue cheque, although that'd be kinda nice too. No rush...)

I did some freelance work for one of Grey's sub-companies about two months ago. Fuckers owe me RM$1,250. I want my goddamn CHEQUE!

Alternatively, I could just learn how to save.

Hmm. That's a thought.

...

Nah. Too much work.

Checked the e-mails just now. Aparently there's another short films festival coming up in August, and the deadline for entries is this month. Can i get my film done in time? It'd be nice. I'm pretty sure I can shoot all the main footage tomorrow, and do some pick ups over next week.

If I can get a goddamn camera before then.

Or a crew, for that matter.

On the bright side, the new jingle Saiful and I did as Y2k for abang rom's redrot show is on air. Kick ass. Did two versions with two completely different melodies in two different languages. I think they're playing both, complete with mad scotsman intros.

One day, when I have my own website with oodles of webspace, I might even let you download them.

Everything's quite calm at the office right now, but you know that it's just the calm before the storm. It's a Friday. There're three deadlines for Monday. Fun. For the past half hour I've been trying to do the hardest part of being a writer in an ad agency: names & taglines.

Names are a bitch because you want something catchy that'll attract your targetted demographics. Combined with the whole 'deadline' element, you sometimes find yourself writing really shit names purely to get the fucker out.

Tag lines are worse. Take a paragraph or two of information, and shorten it into one sentence less than five or six words. Oh, and it's got to sound good.

Was trying to think of a tag line and ad for Zentel (a deworming tablet for children) yesterday. All I could think off was a piss take of the milk ads in the US, except the celebrities are all bloated or suffering from other worm related ailments. And the tagline?

'Got worms?'

Are you surprised my group head shot it down?

Body copy is not a problem, though. Writing oodles of shit loosely based on fact is my forte. How else do I write such long fucking posts in my blogs?

And for that matter, why AM I writing right now, when it's plainly obvious I don't have anything of remote interest to say, bored as hell, want some nicotine and should be working?

Good point. I'm off to check out other people's blogs. Go suck an egg.

On another note, I just discovered (late bloomers as I am) that the writer for 'My Secret Life As A Prostitute' is no longer a prostituting (if that's even a word). So I guess the blog now is just 'My Not So Secret Life As An Ex-Prostitute'. Not as catchy, is it?

9.7.04 04:52

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Death to MACP

I received this e-mail from Hassan Peter Brown the other day, which I felt all local musicians should at least read and, if it makes you want to comment, please do so. Incidentally, us at FYI have felt this all along, but we never actually had any first hand experience since we never joined MACP. Here's an insiders' view:

This is a warning if you are an ambitious musician, composer, event organiser

If you are the songwriter in an ambitious alternative-underground band that is intending to cut an album, through your own efforts, and you hope by this means to get substantial airplay, media attention and respect, and record sales, and you plan to publish your own songs, DON'T JOIN THE MACP!

You may imagine that this organisation and other royalty collecting societies are going to be working in your interest to collect the royalties you might believe are due to you, but the moment you arrange to do your own publicity show, say in a shopping complex, theatre or other live venue where the public gather (or even on the street), you might find yourselves slapped with a several hundred ringgit charge. (Yes, this has actually happened to people).

For what? For PERFORMING YOUR OWN SONGS! Because, having joined the MACP, they now hold the rights to your songs, and therefore you, along with anyone else who performs your songs either live, or by publicly playing your new self produced and financed (at great trouble and expense) CD are liable to pay a fee. Whereas radio stations, who also play yours and other CDs to millions of listeners and make millions in advertising revenue are only expected to pay royalties on the basis of their annual revenue, if YOU the actual composer do a PROMOTIONAL SHOW for nothing, this lack of revenue is not taken into account at all, or so it seems. You still have to pay the - for guys like us - enormous fee.

No doubt out of the best of intentions, looking to take care of their members interests, and as part of the very commendable fight against piracy and the irregular and illegitimate use of intellectual property, the MACP and other royalty collecting organisations, with the backing of the present government, are now going all out to enforce the rights of their members. Ads on national radio stations are now proclaiming that you must have a LICENCE before you put on a show, an entertainment of any kind involving live music, and failure to do so is a CRIMINAL OFFENCE AND, GUYS, YOU MAY BE FINED A SUBSTANTIAL SUM - more than your parents can afford.

It maybe that if the MACP are not more reasonable about this - ie. by exempting members from fees if they perform their own songs (and no-one elses) in a show, and by continuing to allow band shows to happen, overlooking the odd cover version among a succession of unpublished and unregistered material - Lemang Music, Markiza and I will have to pull out of this society and cease to be members. Although we receive a small amount of royalty every year, it would quickly vanish if, just because our songs are registered, we were obliged to pay a licence fee for even a couple of shows (we have to clarify the facts on this).

The alternative would be for us to cease putting on live shows in small venues like we have been, and cease performing to small audiences. To give an example, a show featuring several bands and gathering an audience of say one hundred, all paying a cover charge of for instance RM12, would yeild a modest amount, and the venue would expect about half of that. Sometimes their are other small expenses, and the rest is usually divided between the bands, who have come to soundcheck, set up and perform. Is it really right that instead of going to these deserving live musicians, this extra sum should be returned to be distributed amongst people whose songs were never even performed in the show in question, just because they happen to be members of a performing rights organisation?

Of course it is easier for us, we can probably leave the MACP, as we are full publishing members and all our songs are copyright under Lemang Music as publisher. But those of you who had recording deals in the past, or whose songs are published by other Malaysian publishers affiliated to MACP - you guys, you may find you cannot buy back the rights to your songs. And if you dare to perform your own older, popular material from the past, you may find yourselves (or the organiser of the show you perform in) subject to these penalties and be out of pocket . Thus the public may be deprived of the right to hear these songs, simply because of copyright enforcement.

The fact is there isn't the money in live music to pay all these dues that are levied on live venues, and so the enforcement of these levies, if it is taken to the letter may in the end kill live music, whether the material consists of covers, or consists of songs written by performers who find themselves restricted by copyright laws from actually performing their own material, since the costs of doing so might be prohibitive. It looks as if those who sincerely believe that they are acting in the best interests of their members are trying to extract money that really isn't there, in the sense that audiences are not sufficient to generate adequate profit.

I don't want to pre-judge or miss-judge this situation, but I do think it is serious. I do think there ought to be serious discussion on these issues. If you think I am misrepresenting the case or would like to make a comment, please feel free to do so by e-mailing me at lemang@tm.net.my

12.7.04 04:39

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The Day The Music Died

I should remember the date for this one, but I can't. It was the second year of A levels, making it somewhere between September 97 and June 98. Must've been early '98.

Why didn't I write down the date I broke up Crap Budget Tattoo?

Of course, to Jordan, it was 'Deviant'. He wanted to rename the band. I liked Crap Budget Tattoo. Charlie liked Crap Budget Tattoo. Spaceman really couldn't say, considering he'd already graduated.

Spaceman. A short, young black man who didn't believe in blowjobs. Wonder what he's up to?

I do remember I was pissed with the band. Charlie was pissed with the band. Charlie was pissed because all we did was play pumpkins covers. I was pissed that we weren't concentrating on writing our own damn songs. We were both pissed that the band had no inkling of pop-punk in it.

Jordan had a vision, granted. And a good one. His band at the moment, Flatline, is a realization of all that skill the lil' fucker has and never showed the rest of the world for so damn long. Only thing is, I had a vision too, and it wasn't the same.

"Let's just go up to him and say 'I quit'. Fuck him," said Charlie. Or at least, may have.

I had other plans. This wasn't just some light decision. We were all still friends. No need to burn bridges. And Crap Budget Tattoo, that had been our entire life for the past year. Everyday after study time, jam for an hour. Every weekend, rehearse for another couple of hours. All we wanted to do was play on prom night (or, as Concord college called it, 'International Night'). Forget good grades, forget school. You don't stick a bunch of angst ridden teenagers in an A level college in the middle of God knows where on the border to Wales, eight miles from the nearest town, and expect results. The animals will revolt.

One night, we had a band meeting. I laid it down on the ground, I said all that needed to be said. Very, very tense. Jordan had no idea we weren't into the new direction. Charlie had no idea that breaking up the band was bigger than he thought it was. I had no idea it would hurt so much.

After everybody left the room, I bawled my fucking eyes out. Crap Budget Tattoo is dead. Long live Crap Budget Tattoo.

After I sent my girlfriend back to her dorm, I passed by Jordan's. Through the window, I could see him with Charlie, playing Worms on the PC.

12.7.04 08:08

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