David Callinan's Blog, page 2
January 16, 2012
I saw Pierce Brosnan naked and lived to tell the tale
Yes, it is true. I did see Pierce Brosnan naked, more or less every night and in public because I was working with him at the time but it was some considerable time ago.
Before I ever had the notion of writing a book or a screenplay I was heavily involved in music - what is now called folk-rock or an even newer, voguish moniker, folk-psych.
It was also the early days of the Edinburgh Festival when the pubs closed early and you couldn't get a drink for love nor money after about ten o'clock.
I had co-written an ambitious Celtic rock-opera called 'Pucka-Ri' (English translation: Goat King). I was playing in various bands but had teamed with my old oppo, Mick Flynn, to write the music and the songs and the 'Libretto'.
We found a producer/director, teamed up with a small theatre group, hired a ten-piece rock band, a brilliant jazz singer, Maggie Nichols and assorted acrobats, jugglers, goats, dogs.
'Pucka-Ri' needed a lead actor to play the part of 'One Man' in this Celtic ring cycle that sees him descend into the Celtic underworld, undergo a form of redemption, copulate with 'Midwinter Child' and be reborn as man and spirit in pure harmony with the world and the Gods.
Enter a young Pierce Brosnan. We rehearsed at the Oval House theatre where he kept his pants on before transferring to Edinburgh where 'Pucka-Ri' became one of the hits of the Fringe. 'One Man' was accompanied by a goat (a real one), but it turned out to be a nanny so Pierce had to milk her every night.
His first entrance was stone butt naked leading the goat in through the audience. He spent a long time giving the audience a good eyeful before the script had the good sense to cover up his dangly bits. This was well before 'Hair' or the liberated theatre of nudity that followed and, I can tell you, a naked Pierce Brosnan holding a goat on a leash caused gasps of astonishment and admiration.
And no, I am not going to fall into the trap of blabbing about the size of his organ. That would be a step too far and very uncool.
When the Festival was over I gave Pierce a lift back down to London in my beat up old van. There was little to suggest what he might become. I was certainly a fan of James Bond books but never in a million years could I see him playing that part although he did have genuine charisma and was clearly ambitious.
It would nice to think that I modelled my protagonist in 'The Immortality Plot', Mike Delaney, on the Pierce I knew briefly but I didn't. I can't imagine the former US government assassin, Hong Police enforcer and esoteric monk with blistering martial art skills striding naked through an audience with or without a goat.
The Immortality Plot
Before I ever had the notion of writing a book or a screenplay I was heavily involved in music - what is now called folk-rock or an even newer, voguish moniker, folk-psych.
It was also the early days of the Edinburgh Festival when the pubs closed early and you couldn't get a drink for love nor money after about ten o'clock.
I had co-written an ambitious Celtic rock-opera called 'Pucka-Ri' (English translation: Goat King). I was playing in various bands but had teamed with my old oppo, Mick Flynn, to write the music and the songs and the 'Libretto'.
We found a producer/director, teamed up with a small theatre group, hired a ten-piece rock band, a brilliant jazz singer, Maggie Nichols and assorted acrobats, jugglers, goats, dogs.
'Pucka-Ri' needed a lead actor to play the part of 'One Man' in this Celtic ring cycle that sees him descend into the Celtic underworld, undergo a form of redemption, copulate with 'Midwinter Child' and be reborn as man and spirit in pure harmony with the world and the Gods.
Enter a young Pierce Brosnan. We rehearsed at the Oval House theatre where he kept his pants on before transferring to Edinburgh where 'Pucka-Ri' became one of the hits of the Fringe. 'One Man' was accompanied by a goat (a real one), but it turned out to be a nanny so Pierce had to milk her every night.
His first entrance was stone butt naked leading the goat in through the audience. He spent a long time giving the audience a good eyeful before the script had the good sense to cover up his dangly bits. This was well before 'Hair' or the liberated theatre of nudity that followed and, I can tell you, a naked Pierce Brosnan holding a goat on a leash caused gasps of astonishment and admiration.
And no, I am not going to fall into the trap of blabbing about the size of his organ. That would be a step too far and very uncool.
When the Festival was over I gave Pierce a lift back down to London in my beat up old van. There was little to suggest what he might become. I was certainly a fan of James Bond books but never in a million years could I see him playing that part although he did have genuine charisma and was clearly ambitious.
It would nice to think that I modelled my protagonist in 'The Immortality Plot', Mike Delaney, on the Pierce I knew briefly but I didn't. I can't imagine the former US government assassin, Hong Police enforcer and esoteric monk with blistering martial art skills striding naked through an audience with or without a goat.
The Immortality Plot
November 7, 2011
Let the force be with you – and thanks for the memory
It's really funny how some memories, however far distant they may be, have the power to resonate throughout your life.
Maybe not as 'in your face' traumatic recollections that keep you awake at night but in more subtle ways that are hard to define until you really practice some serious self-analysis. That’s when you realize that things that are happening to you today may have in some mystically hidden way been influenced by past events; events that were completely out of your control. I call it The Memory Matrix.
It’s like there is a personal shadow force stalking all of us lurking in the deep recesses of our minds and souls.
Maybe you feel the same.
When I played in folk-rock bands for a living, long before I wrote thrillers and YA fantasy, I remember messing around with ouija boards and other esoteric or spiritual pursuits. I suppose I was like a lot of people, desperate to discover if there was more to existence than just one lifetime and eventual death.
This led to a great deal of research into metaphysical matters as well as science – but that is another story.
I recall being in Edinburgh with a girlfriend staying in the apartment of a school friend of hers. The two girls were insistent on having a ouija board session so I was outvoted (although secretly enthusiastic).
Sometime before this I'd come to the conclusion that I could influence the movements of the glass (not by pushing and cheating) but by mentally sending out streams of thought messages. I could even close my eyes and do it.
On this occasion I was wrong.
We attracted a 'presence' that I can only describe as terrifying. She told us her name was Mary Tyler and she claimed to have been a witch who had been murdered near Cardiff in Wales in the seventeenth century. The glass whizzed around the board and the language was mediaeval. I have never heard such foul and vile outbursts and it takes a lot to shock me. She claimed, amongst a litany of other things, she was wedded to the Devil. I will spare you the unprintable dialogue. Even though the glass was ‘spelling’ this diatribe it felt as if we could hear her voice.
I pulled my hand away but the girls continued. Something told me this just wasn’t a good idea but the two girls were utterly transfixed, almost hypnotized.
For reasons I cannot explain I picked up my guitar and began to play an old folk ballad from the seventeenth century called 'High Germany’ (about a girl who dresses a man and follows her lover to war).
This proved to be some sort of catalyst, as if this (presumed) spirit form could actually hear me. There may be some other explanation to do with auditory impulses impacting on some kind of spiritual membrane (I’ve always retained an open mind about the rich tapestry of spiritual beliefs) but when this sort of thing is happening there isn’t much time for logical discussion.
The song seemed to heighten the presence of Mary Tyler who declared that she had possessed the body of the other girl. The effect was shocking and instantaneous. She shook and she wailed and she cried, unable to remove her finger from the glass (which was hurtling around almost to the point of shattering).
I stopped playing and pushed the table, board and glass over. The girl who was ‘possessed’ was having hysterics and it took a long time and a few tranquilisers to calm her down.
‘That was all your fault,” my girlfriend said to me later.
“How come?”
“If you hadn’t sung that weird song none of this would have happened.”
I thought about arguing but then what was the point?
I was never able to understand her strange logic and I thought better of trying at that moment.
I am certain that those type of recollections influenced me years later when writing books such as ‘The Immortality Plot’, ‘Bodyswitch’ or ‘The Kingdoms Of Time And Space’.
And, that was not the last time I was to come into contact with Mary Tyler – but that’s yet another story.
All I say to myself was: ‘Thanks for the memory’.
PS: Diverging: What's the most memorable book you have read on Goodreads?
Maybe not as 'in your face' traumatic recollections that keep you awake at night but in more subtle ways that are hard to define until you really practice some serious self-analysis. That’s when you realize that things that are happening to you today may have in some mystically hidden way been influenced by past events; events that were completely out of your control. I call it The Memory Matrix.
It’s like there is a personal shadow force stalking all of us lurking in the deep recesses of our minds and souls.
Maybe you feel the same.
When I played in folk-rock bands for a living, long before I wrote thrillers and YA fantasy, I remember messing around with ouija boards and other esoteric or spiritual pursuits. I suppose I was like a lot of people, desperate to discover if there was more to existence than just one lifetime and eventual death.
This led to a great deal of research into metaphysical matters as well as science – but that is another story.
I recall being in Edinburgh with a girlfriend staying in the apartment of a school friend of hers. The two girls were insistent on having a ouija board session so I was outvoted (although secretly enthusiastic).
Sometime before this I'd come to the conclusion that I could influence the movements of the glass (not by pushing and cheating) but by mentally sending out streams of thought messages. I could even close my eyes and do it.
On this occasion I was wrong.
We attracted a 'presence' that I can only describe as terrifying. She told us her name was Mary Tyler and she claimed to have been a witch who had been murdered near Cardiff in Wales in the seventeenth century. The glass whizzed around the board and the language was mediaeval. I have never heard such foul and vile outbursts and it takes a lot to shock me. She claimed, amongst a litany of other things, she was wedded to the Devil. I will spare you the unprintable dialogue. Even though the glass was ‘spelling’ this diatribe it felt as if we could hear her voice.
I pulled my hand away but the girls continued. Something told me this just wasn’t a good idea but the two girls were utterly transfixed, almost hypnotized.
For reasons I cannot explain I picked up my guitar and began to play an old folk ballad from the seventeenth century called 'High Germany’ (about a girl who dresses a man and follows her lover to war).
This proved to be some sort of catalyst, as if this (presumed) spirit form could actually hear me. There may be some other explanation to do with auditory impulses impacting on some kind of spiritual membrane (I’ve always retained an open mind about the rich tapestry of spiritual beliefs) but when this sort of thing is happening there isn’t much time for logical discussion.
The song seemed to heighten the presence of Mary Tyler who declared that she had possessed the body of the other girl. The effect was shocking and instantaneous. She shook and she wailed and she cried, unable to remove her finger from the glass (which was hurtling around almost to the point of shattering).
I stopped playing and pushed the table, board and glass over. The girl who was ‘possessed’ was having hysterics and it took a long time and a few tranquilisers to calm her down.
‘That was all your fault,” my girlfriend said to me later.
“How come?”
“If you hadn’t sung that weird song none of this would have happened.”
I thought about arguing but then what was the point?
I was never able to understand her strange logic and I thought better of trying at that moment.
I am certain that those type of recollections influenced me years later when writing books such as ‘The Immortality Plot’, ‘Bodyswitch’ or ‘The Kingdoms Of Time And Space’.
And, that was not the last time I was to come into contact with Mary Tyler – but that’s yet another story.
All I say to myself was: ‘Thanks for the memory’.
PS: Diverging: What's the most memorable book you have read on Goodreads?
