New And Improved!

Yes kids the time has come for me to buy my own domain. You can find all the fun and excitement at the domain:

http://ilovemattfishwick.com

remember, tell your friends!

A post card from the 4th Plinth

Sculptor Antony Gormley invited people from the UK to help create a living monument in London by having individuals occupy the empty Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. Each individual will occupy the Plinth for one hour, and be able to use the time as a platform for whatever they wish (as long as it is legal). As of this writing, there are over 27,000 applicants for the 2400 places that are available over the 100 days of the One & Other project.

My friend Anna, whom I met via Script Frenzy, was one of the first people to ascend to the Plinth in the First Week (July 9th, 2009 from 4 to 5 am). Anna decided to write 12 postcards to document her time on the Plinth.

So the call went out. Anna asked for people to put forward names of people who were deserving of a postcard. Knowing that I am selfless, you are no doubt not shocked that I offered my own name, as it’s one of the few things that I own outright.

So with all the names submitted, it only left actually standing on the Plinth for one hour. You can see full hour video here.

I was amazed that I was actually selected for one of the postcards (my brief moment of fame comes @ 47 minutes into the video). I bet you aren’t that surprised, given the title of the post. Anna has said that the recipients can do whatever they wish with the postcard, so I have decided to scan it and post it here, where very very few people will read it.

In case you can’t read it. It says:

Matt!
They’re beeping!
It’s amazing. I can’t
say words. You’re the
last. With love
from the plinth,
Anna x

Because of my selfless and modest nature, I like to believe that even though part of the text reads: You’re the last I like to believe that it does actually say: You’re the best.

I’m pleased to get the postcard and it takes pride of place on my corkboard at work.

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In Search of a Robotic Typing Monkey.

On a forum that I frequent, someone asked how my search for a creature to do my bidding was going. Not like that, you pervert. Well at least until they had clocked off – Because I wouldn’t be doing it for their enjoyment. At all. By bidding, I obviously mean the typing up of my novel from its current hand written form to something a little more binary.

See back in 2007 I participated in something so extra-ordinary that it wasn’t just ordinary and it needed an “extra-” to be concatenated at index 0. (If that makes little sense to you, then imagine how little sense it makes to me). It was NaNoWriMo, and it still is. (Linky to the opposite of lefty -> ) The objective is to write a 50,000 novel in 30 days. While I succeeded in finely handcrafting each sentence to get to the 50,000 word mark (in case you were wondering, the word in question wasn’t “Mark”, although now that I think of it, he would have been a fitting subject. Hello Mark), the novel wasn’t finished. I didn’t let that stop me though. I wanted the novel typed in all its error-scrawled first draft glory, so I set about finding someone to do it.

The search started quite well, I corresponded with several viable candidates, all of whom were eminently qualified (and were dutifully encouraged to tell me what the word eminently meant, because I had no idea, and to some extent I still don’t). After what I thought was a rather productive on-line meeting with the pet of a Nigerian Prince I was encouraged to send $100,000 (that’s US Dollars, not the ill-fated Matt Bucks I tried to launch in late nineties to less than critic acclaim) as a show of faith. It was sent, but after several months I hadn’t heard anything, so I sent another hundred grand to show him just how faithful I was capable of being. It came to nothing though, as that monkey went on to invest that money with Bernie Madoff, so the joke’s on him I guess.

After that particular episode I, with my funds severely depleted, I altered my criteria so now I wasn’t just looking for someone who had low standards, but for someone who wasn’t just cheap and free, but could also provide their own transport too. Where-ever would I find someone like that? It was then it hit me. Well, the branch did and after a brief stint of tree surgery without any pain-relief (well, that’s not entirely true – I did have several hits of nitrous oxide beforehand), it was back to my quest to find that monkey. And I knew that I had to continue my search on the Internet, because putting that ad in the back of Razzle only firmed up my weekend social life.

And find him on the Internet I did, dear reader. We hit it off instantly, well as well as a man and a drug-addled robotic monkey could. Although, looking back I think we just got on well, because he copied my Facebook profile, but hey I was glad to have the friend that got me to the magic 2 friends.

So that brings us up to last Thursday when my friend posted this (and asked me for hundred grand in Matt Bucks)

Matt, I love you and will be yours forever, but what happened to you finding a robotic typing monkey?

This is the answer that I gave:

It was all downhill after he moved in. And we got on so well while chatting online. After a week or two he insisted on his “friend” crashing on the couch. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and they’d be flinging sh*t at one another. It didn’t help that he would fling robotic faeces at me, either. I don’t know what he had been eating, but lemme tell you, there were bolts in it. And those bolts hurt. On top of that his first act of typing my glorious magnum opus was to wipe his behind with it. Everyone is a critic. With his inner editor working overtime, he gave up after two pages and eloped with a writer who he claimed “at least had a shot” at literary aspirations and wasn’t just some “genre hack”, leaving me with his freeloading friend. The only upside was that his “friend” was delicious, if not a little stringy but the “friend” hasn’t been listed as missing in any of the five boroughs, yet.

So at least I got a free meal out of it.

So the search continues. If you, or anyone you know is a robotic typing monkey, or even just a house-trained typing monkey without a hint of robot ancestry, then drop me a line. Although I’d prefer it if you didn’t drop any lines as that just shows a lack of typing comprehension and will make what little sense there is in the story vanish.

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Matt Fishwick v2.7

Yes, that’s right kids I’m now celebrating the 2nd Anniversary of my 25th Birthday!

I’ve also decided to revamp the ol’ blog. After all, there aren’t many people who have blogs and we have to keep the standard up.

Can it get any better?

How to describe me

I could be described as a James Dean lovin’ Party Queen, but that would be slightly to the left of right, or wrong if you prefer you answers briefer.

FADE OUT! Farewell Screnzy 2009.

MIKE
(shouts)
Run!

FADE OUT.

Another attempt, another win.

Roll on next year.

Roll on a better idea.

Roll on deoderant.

INT. Office – Script Frenzy – Day 1

MATT, a strangely disappointing excuse of a man, stares with glazed eyes, the sort of glaze that is usually reserved for doughnuts, at a computer screen containing a BLANK document .

The CURSOR taunts him.

His well is dry, fortunately he has indoor plumbing – even in the north of England, but that isn’t helping him now.

MATT’s fingers glide over the keyboard as he types.

It would seem Matt is shit at typing. He deletes, and starts again, SLOWLY.

Ideas = 0.
Pages = 0.

MATT
I’m already behind in the page count, and it’s only just gone midnight.

CUT TO:

One Year Craptacular: A Clip Show Featuring Almost All Recycled Material

You remember back in the day when I started this blog?

No, I didn’t think so. Let’s take a look back shall we:

Now if… I have returned… and someone has found me… There once was a man… that looks like me. For those of you who don’t… stop bothering me… Go… it just looks more professional.

I reached… me… the answer… truckin’

Everybody else… could have saved time by… a dish best served with sprouts… in a vacuum!

It’s movie time.

Ah, good times.

Here’s to the next lot of ignored posts…

And to ScriptFrenzy!

Hurrah!

One Year Craptactular!

That’s right, it’s been one year of inane posts that nobody has read.

You may be the first, unless you are reading this over someone’s shoulder and that means you are a close second. So take a step back, and stop invading my personal space.

So while this is the Internet, happy e-paper anniversary. (An anniversary of this magnitude doesn’t warrant an exclamation point.) But you could have at least sent an e-card you unsentimental bastard.

Will we reach the next one? Probably, unless I forget my login details.

Don’t forget the traditional Anniversary Clip Show Featuring 10% New Material!

Coming up next.

(Recycling, not only is it good for the environment, but it removes the need to be creative.)

If you can read this, chances are you aren’t illiterate.

… but enough about you, it’s movie time.