Yep.

Incidentally, I wonder how many of my posts start with 'Yep'. Thank you for not counting.

I also wonder about 'internet presence'. I've got a fair idea that I should hammer together at least a presentable couple of minutes' worth of me doing comedy. Plans on this are afoot.

Bah. Tired. Motivation for introspective post detailing pros and cons of these days fading.

It's an eternal thing, keeping tabs of how much energy one thinks one has, and how much one actually has.

On the cons side: I have no certainty of income from September onwards. And that's about it. There are other things that I could mew about because I'm tired, I've fed myself poorly recently and am apprehensive about my next project - but that would be self-pitying crap, and we do not cater to that sort of behaviour. So - on to the pros.

The novel is fairly flying. Powers are growing rather rapidly, and I've found out that there is a secret to increasing one's productivity about 380%. No internet. I've been writing in café Nero the last couple of weeks - gets me out of the house and away from internet/Warcraft, which is good (but close to cakes and coke, which is BAD. Every silver lining has a cloud). I almost have the confidence to plow on without feedback, but not quite. I look forward to slamming down half a novel for the big guns (i.e. mum and dad) to read, and am hoping that that might happen before July is over and done with. As it stands I have three quarter-readers, who are working selflessly on all corners of the North Atlantic. The goal of finishing in August still stands.

Actually, my life is fairly simple these days.

a) survive on no money plzkthx.
b) finish - in order - standup gig tomorrow, trip to Edinburgh via York (research, see. I'm well good, me) on Monday, then from Tuesday onwards work on the Baxterbear stage show with Nick + writing somewhere + traipsing about with Morag in her home town. And about Morag. I haven't written too much about her here, because I've been too busy in her company. But life - is good. I shan't bore you with the details - but I've smiled more in the last two months and change than I've done for a long time.
c) finish novel. This would ideally happen in Edinburgh.
d) finish BA Thesis, 5-9 years overdue. Basically, it's time. Also, it will by all accounts help greatly with procuring any type of other work.

The plan, in short, is to go into my 35th year on the planet with 1x finished novel, 2x acting credits, somewhere between 60 and 100 comedy gigs and a degree to show for the year. Oh yeah - and weighing in under 100kg, which last happened in 1999.

Actually, that's fairly insane. Do I always do this? I guess I do. So, there's that. And now - sleep. I have any number of things to do tomorrow.

It's all in the ride.

So, how are you feeling?: splashing in the paddling pool
What's that racket?!: Supreme Beings of Leisure - Ride

Much like Logan Ninefingers, I am still alive.

Just finished Joe Abercrombie's 'Best Served Cold', which is just about as good as fantasy gets these days. Highly pleasant, visceral, well crafted and above all very, very instructive. I suspect cogs are being added to my brain at a relatively frightening rate, much like OJ's cannon in Naked Gun.

Writing goes as it goes. Monday and Tuesday were flying days, Wednesday turned into Editing Day and yesterday was ho-hum. I've taken to going to coffee shops to write - yes, I am now that guy. Between 1300 and 1600 there's a relatively high likelihood of seeing me at Cafe Nero on Piccadilly, for all you crazed Snorri fans that just can't get enough of me.

But not today, though - for today I am working from home. Which is also good, because Cafe Nero has ECC's - Evil Chocolate Cakes. Mmm. I've not been paying any attention whatsoever to my diet or lack thereof since moving out of North Drive, but I still fit (relatively) into 36'' jeans, so I'm not putting it all back on. I look to Edinburgh to help me slim down - lots of walking. Loooots of walking. Might spring for an actual raincoat, though.

And that's /blather for me.

So, how are you feeling?: awake

...my namesake Snorri Sturluson pretty much wrote the book. I'm doing research and disturbing the lady with hilarious recountings of viking medicine, applied with much force and more manliness. Read at your own peril.

What's that racket?!: Lovage - To Catch a Thief

This journal.

And life in general.

I haven't written here much. Life kind of happened to me. In the shape of a small, red-haired Scottish woman named Morag.

Which is why I've more or less been a grinning, slimming, productive, handsome eejit for the best part of two months.

About Morag - she's a costume designer, was wardrobe mistress on Killing the Dream, her parents know Nick the Flatmate's parents from Edinburgh, she's very clever, funny, pretty and all manner of other things. The only reason I stop myself here is that there *is* limited space on the internet, my typing speed is terrifying and seeing as I could type faster than they're adding space, I'd fill the damn thing up with hyperbole.

She tells me I'm pretty, fer chrissakes!

I *still* don't know how to deal with that. Or any number of other things. But life - is good.

Of the practical things, I can say that I'll be doing Edinburgh for the 3rd year in a row, only this time throwing in some random comedy with a daily show of reading stories about a bear called Baxterbear. This also goes hand in hand with Morag (as I will be) being up north, and us doing the festival together.

Neil Gaiman will be having a reading, and I haven't gotten myself tickets. Foolish? Possibly. I prefer to err on the right side of 'zomg total fanboi' though. Pantheons are not for mortals. And I am still v. much a mortal. Novel's coming along - ish - rounding out at somewhere in the region of however many pages, with a lot to go. I've ditched the compulsory word production every day (as can be seen by my writing this), and am instead trying to write good stuff, know what I'm doing and have fun with it as well. Currently I'd say that is somewhere between 65% and 80% successful. Sometimes it's a slog, sometimes I feel like crying, hiding and playing World of Warcraft (preferrably all at once) and the other times it's gooooooood fun, I'll have you know. I want to finish this, I want to make it brilliant - but I think I may be fairly devastated if I do and then nobody likes it. Which is probably significantly different from all other authors in the history of humanity.

I'm tho thpecial.

Financially I'm pretty much as destitute as ever, living in Morag's room after the contract termination and epic cleaning/moving session to end the stay at Casa de North Drive. It's a string of temporary arrangements - and I find I'm not necessarily so good with those. I would like to be settled, with a defined living space. I would also like a sixpack, a Ferrari and an adamantium skeleton, but one learns to deal. These are roaming vagabond-type years - and good ones at that. I hesitate to use the term belle epoque, but so far my London Years have been just that. Let's hope they're followed up by a plus belle epoque and then whatever fancy-schmancy foreign phrase I can invent for the next bits.

But this life malarkey ain't half bad, as it were.

Physically, I'm doing cautiously better. I'm hovering (dare we say 'stabilizing'? we just did, didn't we) at somewhere between 105 and 108kg atm, fitting comfortably into 36'' jeans. This is a damned sight better than at christmas, when the scales said 118.5kg and the waistline said 'can I introduce you to my little brother, the Norwegian coastline?' (which is around 40'' or thereabouts'. I have a casual goal, which is 103 after Edinburgh, accomplishable by staying away from the constant drinking but sticking to the determined walking everywhere, every day. It'll be well good, as they say in this country.

Can't rightly think of anything more to write at the moment. The womman's coming home soon.

I shall go make myself pretty.

One strives to stay ahead of the curve.

So, how are you feeling?: happy
What's that racket?!: Ludwig van Beethoven - Symphony #2 in D, op.36, 2- Allegretto

Brain all over the place.

I figure this here blog is due a proper update on my life and what is in it.

Maybe tomorrow. Now I think I should sleep.

So, how are you feeling?: tired

Crazy times. Am recovering, will do more of same over the weekend. Back to work.

Life is good.

So, how are you feeling?: succinct

Melting! Meeeeeltiiiing!

I seriously am not designed for hot weather. For one, I retain the Icelandic attitude of not trusting to the permanent nature of weather - in Iceland, if you go out believing that the weather is going to actually stay that way, you get cold, sick and laughed at by people with more sense and more clothes than you. This equals little old me going out in t-shirt + shirt + jeans + jacket when there's 22°c outside. Smart? Not so much. But hey - it'll aid weight loss, I reckon.

Speaking of which - ooooh the temptation is strong. VERY strong, in fact. But I am persisting and perservering - I've slid a tad since Iceland and put on something like 2kg, but off they shall again. Off they shall. I think I'm somewhere near comprehending actually how important that stuff is to my general health and well-being, mental more than anything else. Which means that me going back on my self-imposed food rules = me doing bad things to myself. I'm not really in the habit of doing such, so why should I persist? Interesting questions.

Slowly, slowly, the novel gets restarted. I've set myself the next three months to finish it - considering now there's a grand total of 6 weeks (??! wth? How - the - HELL did that happen?) until I relocate to Edinburgh with Nick to work on the show and after that there's something like another 6 weeks until I re-relocate to London (too many re's? I don't re-care, re-ally) and start hunting for a 2 bedroom flat somewhere near a decent supermarket, a train/tube station and the SW16/17-ish postcode, I'd say I have somewhere in the region of 12 weeks to finish the damn thing. Seeing as the word count is currently rocking in at a hulking 3.5k with 76.5k to go to reach novel length, I think we can safely assume that somewhere in the region of 910 words need to get done each day. To re(-re-re-)phrase - the amount of edited, style- and language-vetted, plotted, replotted, character-infused quality writing in my document needs to increase by 910 words/day for me to reach novel length by the end of August, like I've intended. Why August? So that my agent can read it through and determine "if it's any bloody good" in order to go shop it at Frankfurt at the end of October.

Now, if that seems a little too much like 'work' to you my faithful readers, rest assured. I deal with a fantastic amount of procrastination when I don't know what I'm doing (like now), but when I'm cookin' I abso-fucking-lutely love doing this. It's good. It's so, so good. Words are fun, I'm tellin' ya. That being said, though - I might make an Excel document to kick my arse into gear a little bit.

However, them words don't edit themselves. So off I go, looking forward to cooking fish and rice for Nick tonight and getting closer to finishing off the first chapter.

So, how are you feeling?: calm
What's that racket?!: KT Tunstall - Other side of the world

Not in the patching-up-rabbits-with-broken-feet or escorting-old-ladies-across-the-street departments, but rather doing well.

Working ever-so-slowly on the novel. Keeping weight and food under control. I even ran after a bus today and it felt good. Caught the damn thing, too. Summarily lassoed it and tied three of its wheels together, much to the consternation of the driver. My body feels light and powerful, and I haven't been this slim since 2006. I have now only roughly 6.5kg to go to go under the magical triple figure barrier and into double figures. When I last weighed under 100kg, Bill Clinton was president. Just sayin'. Mum and dad's big birthday bash is mostly planned; coming together nicely. Tomorrow night is last comedy gig for about half a year - then in more or less this particular order: Iceland, back, write a novel, ready flat for moving, move house, finish teaching, write a novel, Iceland for the summer, write a novel, finish a novel, back to London, flathunting, resume gigging 3-4 times a week, write new comedy material, resume teaching, search for more work.

For my 35th birthday present, I will give myself a weight in double figures, I think.

So, how are you feeling?: working

Work space set up: check.

Miles Davis playing on the speakers: check.

Food in belly: check.

Fresh new copy of chapter 1, complete with 340 words that are in dire need of editing: check.

Bring it on.

So, how are you feeling?: Focused.
What's that racket?!: Miles Davis - So What

Did regret it.

Got to work on time though.

Embarrassingly, I then stayed at work for long enough to be able to eat my tuna-and-blue-cheese cous cous.

Now I'm going home to nap.

So, how are you feeling?: drained

I have a thoroughly emotional link to food.

Tonight I was tired, swingy from having dropped the (bowling) ball (on my foot) in the headline spot at my club tonight and on my way home. So I thought to myself, 'MAN I could f**king *MURDER* an XL Bacon double burger meal from the all-night Burger King'.

The only thing that helped me bypass late night bingeing? The fact that like an absolute mo-fo I left the house with 5 - count'em, *five* - small meals in boxes, nestling in my trusty side bag.

Which means that the grudging planning of last night kept me healthy today.

I kinda like that.

This might connect to the fact that I've dropped 13kg since christmas - that's 30 pounds for the metrically challenged, or 2 stone for the plain ol' eccentric Brits. This leaves me in a fitter, healthier and all-round happier place than I've been for a long time. I have to watch out for meself a little bit - the tiniest weight obsession lurks, with its hairy green legs and its claws and fangs and a little pilot light to lure in unsuspecting and sneakily insecure little Snorris, and it needs to be defeated. Life also needs to be led, and food needs to be taken in where and when it's supposed to: in the company of good people, copiously and not as a reward/pick-me-up emotional crap-type crutch. Easier said than done, but good fun wrestling with. Especially when the returns are this bountiful.

Also, I've now wasted 70 minutes that I could have used for sleeping. Something tells me that I'll regret that in 5hrs 30mins time.

Good night!

So, how are you feeling?: tired

deeply scared to start writing, in case it's shit.

Something needs to be done about this.

I figure the easiest thing is to start writing.

So, how are you feeling?: uncomfortable

(which is, incidentally, not a half-bad title for a book)

Life is brilliant these days.

I'm in a show, I'm doing comedy, I've started on the novel again and I'm losing weight. All of these things feed directly into my fantasies of How Life Should Be. They don't *quite* stretch to my bank account or other grown-up responsible-type things, but that's another story. Also, I'm not using the time spent writing this cloyingly pleased journal entry to hammer on in said novel, but that's neither here nor there. One cannot be Captain Fantastic all the time.

As of now the summer seems to be more or less sorted. Ish. There are minor details to figure out, but on the whole things are looking highly pleasant. As it stands I'll be spending June in London and then July+August in Iceland writing like a donkey. Basically, the manuscript has to be finished by the end of August, come hell or high water. What the autumn brings is then anybody's guess, but these days I'm highly disinclined to fret.

I might be living the life of an irresponsible and shameless grasshopper, but sod it. There's a limited amount of years left to do so, so I might as well enjoy it to the fullest while I can.

Right.

Time to write some slanderous and ill-researched half-historical viking fiction. I never did like the Norwegian Royal Family.

So, how are you feeling?: happy

Everything is changing, pretty much. After a time of sameness, it seems like life has decided to step on the gas. Random things are happening.

I can't really say where, what, how, who or any other question-type words - but it is good.

It is very good, in fact.

Today it does look like I'll have time to formally restart writing the novel.

So, how are you feeling?: cheerful

Well.

I'm glad you asked.

Yesterday I:
- found out that I might be liable for a fair amount of money in a court case
- decided with Nick to terminate the lease on our flat
and
- found out that there were apparently two nibbles of interest on my novel at the London Book Fair.

Up and down?

A little bit.

Changing times. Which require Prowling Snorri the Work Panther to emerge, the one that leads with his neck. Now this novel needs to get fantastic and finished a.s.a.p.

No mercy, no prisoners.

Bring it the f**k on.

So, how are you feeling?: determined

Up in the air, up in the air.

Show's going well, after a fashion. It looks all nice, it's fun to watch and it gets little in the way of "audience". This is more or less par for the course for Fringe plays, but is still fairly disappointing - the company was very confident of the excellence of the work, and feels a bit deflated with the lack of rapturous (or raptorous, for that matter) response to the chiseled genius ways in which we roll. Which is sad.

However, time at 5 North Drive might be coming to a close. Tonight, lease agreements will be checked and plans best laid for summer. Anyone have a room to spare for a medium-sized comedian/actor who cooks, cleans and leaves the seat down? Ástþór - if you read this, I might consult with you on the availability of roomage in the Catford Massif by September or so.

Any which way it goes, life is about to take a sharp turn towards 'interesting' and possibly even 'eventful' as well.

But d'ye know what?

It's good. It's all good. There may be challenges up ahead, but I shall tackle them head on and come out on the other side. I remain positive, upbeat and cheerful.

So, how are you feeling?: positive, upbeat and cheerful

Yes indeedy. Last night I unashamedly did absolutely fuck all.

Rather, I spent 4 hours or so playing World of Warcraft. And it does make me self-conscious - because one is taking significant time doing the same thing as any number of 11-to-15-year olds and could therefore easily be put in the same maturity bracket - but on the other hand, I am inclined to say fuckit.

Because I don't watch television.

There. I said it.

I watch films - occasionally - but my braindead time is usually spent flittering between mail accounts and facebook, playing chess and indulging in World of Warcraft.

I had every intention of writing some manner of justificational bit here, along with philosophizing on passive vs. active entertainment, possibly with a shouted disclaimer of being a man, an untameable man, a wild thing of the night who can do whatever he ruddy well pleases including sitting like a blob in front of a computer, mesmerized by shiny blinky colors - but I can't be arsed, frankly.

Today has the sights, smells and sounds of a Good Day.

Soon, the novel-writing will start again.

So, how are you feeling?: cheerful

- I'm off to the theataaaa. I will be back in the real world tomorrow, or thereabouts.

And yes, it's sodding 8 o'clock. And yes, I got up at 6:55. And yes, I'll be at work till 10pm, pretty much non-stop.

Which is the way we want it.

So, how are you feeling?: awake

I opted out of going to the theatre with my brother and Nick. Instead, I'm listening to Tom Waits and poking around with Photoshop, casually and incredibly slowly working on laying out the program for tomorrow. Resizing photographs, writing blurbs, that kind of thing.

And I find myself wanting to get slowly and gently drunk on red wine. I crave candlelight and a sofa, and possibly the company of a smart and funny woman. It's a soft feeling, and it's nice as well. Like a cat waking up, padding lazily over to my chair and nudging its head against my shins just to remind me of its existence.

I'm going to do absolutely nothing about it - but I don't mind the feeling. Don't mind it at all.

These are days of rising temperatures and benign confusion. Tentatively, my plan is to give this weird and wonderful theatrical run all that it deserves, and then take up healthier living coupled with exercise to restart the weight loss. This will be combined with various money-making exercises to be allowed to live here in this odd city for a little longer. There's also a novel to finish, and I'm relishing the thought. Feel free to rub my face in this post in three weeks' time when I start whingeing about the novel, by the way. Then, on the 19th of May I swing by Iceland for a week. I'll be relatively busy for the first half of said week - it's the parents' 60th birthday, see - but I might be able to show my face at some point. But then again, maybe not.

By and large, my existence has not changed much. I'm still eking out a living, still counting pennies and walking to the tube because saving ten pounds a week counts, dammit - and am generally fine about it. Sometimes I wish I had a disposable income, but I'm not nearly bothered enough to do something about it. I get by fine without stuff.

I had a huge audition on Tuesday. It was for a mobile company, and they wanted to spend a lot of money on comedians who could do really really short internet-related jokes. To make a long story short, I was comedian #38 that they saw that day, and was squeezed in between two hardcore professionals who tour the big clubs, do radio and television. When I finished, they still had another thirty to go.

I didn't get it.

Which was kinda fine, anyway. The carrot on the stick was roughly a year's salary - which woulda been handy, mind - but it would also have complicated everything related to the play rather massively, to be honest. Worst case scenario was the status quo - and I'm kinda fine with that, to be honest.

Right. Back to my beautiful castmates and writing of their achievements.

So, how are you feeling?: calm
What's that racket?!: Tom Waits - Diamonds on my windshield

It has utterly taken over my life.

For a while I was quite surprised at this.

*facepalm*

Seriously, though - these have been absolutely glorious days. I think I could do this - living with Nick and Árni and Nellie, doing theatre shows - for a long time*. But then again, maybe not. I'm already looking forward to some kind of routine, getting back on track with the novel and pushing that forward, finishing the comedy load and just generally seeing if the Snorritrain will manage to stay on the London tracks.

Time - it will tell, I guess.

But it's spring, I have friends, I am healthy and life is generally quite fantastic.

Now I'm going to do Assistant Producer-type things for 50 minutes, before I head off to work for a spell and then to tech run at the theatre. Tonight - more producery things. Tomorrow?

7:00am wake up.
9:00am Ready, in costume and w. makeup, for dress rehearsal.
2:00pm Leave dress rehearsal in time to get to Holland Park for 3:30.
3:45pm Audition for a big casting director for a really really big job.
4:00pm Leave audition in a state of shock. Go to the Coach and Horses.
7:30pm Start setting up the Laughing Horse Soho.
8:30pm Compere for 2 hours and change.
11:00pm Go home.

I am a bit apprehensive about all this. But f**kit - it goes as it goes.

So, how are you feeling?: surprisingly energetic

Tuesday will be interesting. That is all I can say for now.

Zoink!

So, how are you feeling?: Zoink!

1) Sleep.

2) Go over scenes in play, *then* sleep.

Half an hour tonight = fantastically muchly better tomorrow?

I think maybe yes.

Although I will be hung over also.

I'm kinda fine with the whole rehearsal thing - in fact, I daresay I'm actually loving it quite a lot - but I really can't stomach the drinking! Jeez! Booze flying at me to the tune of 4 days out of the last 6 being mildly-to-seriously inebriated. My liver will get me if I carry on like this much longer.

And on that note, I'm going to put away this computer devilmachine and a) get script, b) plug in bedside lamp.

Tomorrow we start running the bloody thing.

So, how are you feeling?: good, if tipsy + tired
What's that racket?!: Nelly and Erica chatting drunkenly in the next room - beautiful sounds.

It's pretty much oozing out of my ears these days.

In fact, I'm so busy doing performance things that I don't get enough sleep. This will of course need to get changed - but the upshoot is good. Now if I could only get enough money to pay my rent from doing this, I'd be pretty much a contented little bunny.

But in the end, who knows. Life is good now. It is quite unrealistic to think that one can remain in the same moment forever, so I'm working on learning to enjoy the right-now, and then being ready to do something different and have another type of life somewhere down the line, ready to enjoy its peaks and troughs, as it were.

*heads self off at pass before pontificating too much*

And on that note, I'm off to more line learning in my bed, while the rest of the cast rehearse in my living room.

As I said - life *is* rather good.

So, how are you feeling?: happy

at Camp Snorri.

My house has been transformed into a theatre, basically. All non-essential furniture in the livingroom has been pushed to the side. There is now a big space there for rehearsing.

And rehearse we do. From nine to five.

Day two is just ending now, in fact.

My brother, who is directing, called an early end to today's work. And do you know what happened?

Nobody went home. Everyone broke into various types of group work.

*that* I think may just be the sign of a very healthy production indeed.

And it better f**king be - we premiere on Thursday next week. Which will be interesting.

Currently my brother and Nick's friend Nellie are living with us, and the house is buzzing with energy. It's a lovely little commune - and it'll get busier before it slows down again.

Seriously though - these are the kind of magical days that leave a big hole after they're gone. So I'm going to do my very very best to enjoy them to the fullest while they're here.

So, how are you feeling?: happy

Ever so slightly knocked for six.

Currently boiling an egg for breakfast.

My brother is here; living with him and Nick is possibly too much fun. Much debate on the play.

A bit bleary. Maybe now would be the time to trick my brain into working on the novel for a couple of minutes, before I hie myself hence and go do the thing in the place.

I think, maybe yes.

So, how are you feeling?: bleary