Sunday, 29 June 2008

Chapter One - Part III

I made my way over to the door on the other side of the room and out onto the viewing balcony. The view was, as ever, spectacular. The freezing breeze took me by surprise so I zipped up my coat, pulled on my gloves and moved close to the edge. I looked out south over the city. In the distance I could see the Statue of Liberty, minute from this distance. I peered further over the low wall, the city was busy today. It seemed as though there were more yellow cabs crowding the streets than usual. I began to shiver as I made my way round the square, taking in the view as I went.

As I rounded the corner I spotted the girl I had just met leaning over the wall with a camera in her hand. She was concentrating hard on the small digital screen and was oblivious to everything going on around her. The viewing balcony was quiet, but there was still little space at the walls edge itself. I stood for a moment watching her, stalking her from a distance. I
couldn't decide whether to approach her again or make may way past her and onto the next section to look at the views to the north of the city. I made the decision that was acting in both of our best interests, obviously.

I walked cautiously up behind Stephanie and strained my neck into the bend between her shoulder and neck. “
Whatchadoing?” I whispered.

“HOLY SHIT!” She recoiled with a start. “What the hell do you think you are doing sneaking up on me?” She glared over at me.

Whoa, sorry mate. I diddn’t mean to scare you.” I apologised.

“Jesus, I don’t know what is normal on the other side of the
Atlantic, but over here you can get arrested for stalking people.” She looked down at the small digital camera in her left hand. “You made me almost drop my camera over the edge, it took me months to save up for this. Asshole.” She started to make her way to the door.

I instinctively began following her through the door. I could see that she was not at all happy with me but for some reason this intrigued me, it was not the first time. I had once found myself being chased through the streets of
Liverpool by a group of burly bald headed lads after bumping into a girl in a club and spilling her drink on the floor. The girl spent five minutes spitting abuse in my face, so I decided to follow her back to the bar and ask her out. Turned out she was dating a Muhammad Ali impersonator who was stood a few feet behind me.

“You know you’re kind of rude.” I observed with a smile.

“Yeah, well you’re kind of creepy.” She replied, pressing the elevator button.

I stepped back and took a deep breath, this one was tricky. “You know, I think we have got off on the wrong foot, don’t you? Why don’t I buy you lunch, I know this great place over looking the park.”

“How about you don’t.” She snarled back at me. She glared into my eyes as the elevator door binged closed.

That was it, I had blown it with quite possibly the most beautiful girl I had ever come across, I had no luck in love. I went back outside and stood for another few minutes looking out across the city. I
couldn’t find any inspiration, my mind was too distracted with images of Stephanie, and the inevitable regret that I hadn’t played it cooler and at least got her number.

After picking up a burger and some fries, I made it back to the office within the hour. I walked across the lobby to the elevator. Pressing the button for the 50
th floor I took the final sip of my orange soda.

Venereologist!” Mike shouted over to me as I approached our office.

“What?” I asked, a confused look on my face.

“The medical title for a penis doctor is
Venereologist. I found it on Wikipedia mate.”

“Time well spent while I have been gone then Mike, as usual.” I smiled.

Saturday, 28 June 2008

Chapter One - Part II

"Okay, how about this," Mike turned from his computer screen to look at me. "A young man and woman walk into what appears to be a ticket booth, as if going to buy movie tickets. They get to the booth and say 'two adults for the three o'clock meeting with the finance manager please.' and then they get ushered straight through into a meeting room and sit down with some pop corn and a hot dog. Then the slogan comes up saying 'Klein Hewitt Finances, discussing your investments can be as easy as going to the movies." He paused. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think it
doesn't make any sense. I mean, it's a good concept but does it really meet the brief? It would be hard to take that idea from a TV spot to a national print campaign wouldn't it. I think we are on the right track though." I looked back down at my blank pad of paper.

"Well I reckon
theres potential in the slogan, it's catchy. I am going to jot it down and keep it for a rainy day." Mike put pen to paper and then looked back up. "Whats wrong with you today anyway? I have come up with all sorts of ideas and you have thrown them all into the trash, wheres your vision Mr Big Shot Art Director?" Mike snorted.

"My vision is staring straight up your hairy ass today Mike,
I'm too distracted by all the shit your throwing at me!." I just wasn't in the mood today.

Mike
didn't reply, he just stood up and made for the coffee machine. We made a great team, he acted as the copy writer and I the art director, that is usually how creative teams stack up these days. We had a strong friendship that went deeper than just work which allowed us to argue until the sun comes up but never fall out, almost like a pair of bickering brothers. But it had made us the success we were today, with four awarding winning campaigns behind us back in England. One of the reasons why we came to New York was to seek out a new challenge and change the face of advertising in the states. We had not managed this yet, but it was early days.

"Mike, I can't think straight in the office anymore, I'm going to head out and get some fresh air, back in an hour or so. Tell Jones I have gone out to do some market research if he asks, cheers." I picked up my jacket and headed for the door.

"No!" Mike shouted after me. "If he asks I will tell him you have gone to an appointment with your penis doctor!"

"Do they even exist?" I asked.

"They do now!" Mike laughed.

I jumped into the
elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. Within a minute I was down and pacing across the large open plan lobby to our building. The floors were marble and the walls tall and white. In the center was a large circular desk. As I passed I waved a hello to the security guard. Within a few more steps I was working my way round the revolving door and out onto West 59th Street. I made for the edge of the side walk and signalled a cab. Finally one pulled up, I got in and asked for The Empire State Building.

The sky was clear and the sun was out. If I ever felt a lack of ideas I would go over to the Empire State and pay the twenty odd dollars it cost to take the ride up to the top to look out of the city. It was a cold way of getting some thinking time but it was worth it, and I would always come back to earth feeling refreshed and ready to get to work.

As the foreign cab driver steered us through the mid-afternoon traffic in downtown Manhattan he muttered away to himself. I looked out of the window and gazed at the sights and listened to the sounds of Fifth Avenue. You could easily spot the tourists amongst the
fashionistas and bureaucrats popping in and out of the designer boutiques. It was quite a sight to behold, even after seeing it so many hundreds of times.

The cab dropped me off on Fifth Avenue outside the Empire State and I payed him, with a healthy tip. Mike still refused to give cab drivers any tip at all as he didn't think half of them deserved it. It was even a struggle to get him to tip in the restaurants. This would always be embarrassing when we would dine out with clients, I would usually end up tipping extra to compensate. I don't think Mike has quite adjusted to living in the states yet, certainly not used to tipping ten percent.

I made may way into the Empire State ready to stand
queing for 30minutes to get to the first elevator. I was astonished to find the lobby almost empty as I got ushered through quickly. They had obviously changed the rope barrier pattern around a bit as the journey to the ticket desk was a lot shorter than I remembered. As I reached the booth there were only four other visitors paying to visit the top of the tower, I had never seen it so quiet. I payed, got my ticket and made my way to the elevator.

As I reached the first set of double doors I noticed a petite looking girl standing waiting to be let on, I quickly made for that elevator and climbed in beside her. The doors closed and I adjusted my short brown hair and sorted out my glasses. Under my jacket I was wearing a snug fitting black combat shirt and dark blue jeans, I was feeling good, and confident. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the
girl next to me was pretty, very pretty actually. She had long wavy dark brown hair, pale skin and big blue eyes with long eye lashes. Her lips were plump and her cheeks seemed to have a small dimple. She wore a short bomber jacket with a t-shirt underneath and skinny black jeans, with small black pumps on her feet. In her hair was a dark coloured head band. Just my type. Her hands looked cold and she kept rubbing them while she watched the floors disappear beneath us. These elevators moved so quickly, I barely had a moment.

"Hi!" I said,
nonchalantly.

"Hey." She replied, looking straight ahead.

All of a sudden there was a loud ding and the elevator reached the top of it's trip. The doors opened and the girl began walking forwards straight away. "Shit!" I thought as I began to follow her. "I cannot let this one get away from me. Go for it Jack, catch her up!" I began to jog across the marble floor, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. I managed to catch up with her in time to embark the second lift to the viewing floor. Again we found ourselves alone.

"Hi!" I said again, with a
stupid grin appearing on my face. "We meet again, you a native New Yorker?" I asked hopefully.

"No, I moved over from
Phillidelphia in the fall. Your a first time tourist I'm guessing?" She asked, obviously not impressed.

"Me? No, no I moved over from England in January. I thought I would have lost that tourist vibe by now!" I laughed nervously.

"Nope, still got it. Maybe it is the accent? I don't know." She said, she still hadn't moved her gaze from straight ahead.

The elevator dinged and the doors began to open, unfortunately they did not magically start closing again to give me more time. The girl once again began to move forward and I had to think quickly to get a word in before she vanished.

I managed to catch up to her. "Do you come up here often then?" I asked.

"Sometimes, usually when I need to find a bit of inspiration." She said casually, looking over towards the window and out across the city.

"I think I just found my inspiration." I said under my breath.

The girl finally looked at me. "Oh, nice line." She picked up her pace and made for the door.

"Shit, did I just say that out loud?" I asked myself.

"Hey, watch your language buddy!" An old man demanded as he walked past me.

"Shit, I did it again." Finally thinking and not speaking I looked over to the girl. "What is your name?" I shouted over to her.

"Stephanie." The girl shouted back as the door closed behind her.

Thursday, 26 June 2008

Chapter One - Part I

"Look at those two birds out on the sill dude, they are going to start banging any second now!" Mike pointed to the floor to ceiling window just ahead of him. "Look the guy one is about to mount her...oh wait maybe that is the girl, which ever, they are definitely about to bang!"

"Micheal Parish ladies and gentlemen,
sexpert to the pigeons!" I recoiled with a laugh. "You are way too obsessed with the wildlife of this city and it's sexual habits, you need to get a life mate."

"
That's what you get when you have an office that looks over Central Park. And anyway, I am more like sex pest to the stars. Did you clock Sasha Bushton in Soho yesterday? She was hot to trot, if only you would have let me follow her."

"Yeah, you would have got a restraining order. You can't follow every female celeb you see in the city, they just arn't going to be interested in a bearded idiot like you." I turned back to my Apple Mac and clicked enter.

"Your a
philistine my friend, its the science of probability. If I stalk enough of them, at least one of them has to take me up on the offer of a drink and bite to eat." Mike sat back in his chair and let out a sigh. "How did we manage to end up in the most amazing city in the world working on the most boring of briefs?" He asked rhetorically.

"Well, we managed to get an insanely high paying senior creative job at a hot agency in the city, and I had to go and embarrass myself at an elite dinner while you pissed off back to the UK to dump the so called love of your life." I looked at him through my glasses, he
refused to acknowledge my glare.

"Jack, I thought you understood that I couldn't be a high flying advertising creative in the big apple while being tied down to a half wit in
blighty. It had to be done my friend, and it had to be done quickly." Mike smiled over at me with content.

"Yes, but did it have to be done on the same day as that goddamn dinner, I am amazed we still managed to land this contract, I made a complete tit of myself. You just don't care enough."

"You care too much mate."

We were sat in our brand spanking new open plan office on the 50
th floor. To my left was a sheet glass wall that looked out into the main office. The main office was also open plan and housed all of the admin staff and artworkers. We would often fold back sections of the glass wall as it made us feel less important, which we thought was good, it's no good getting too big for your boots in this industry. Surrounding the large office were similar setups as ours housing the other senior creatives. The junior creatives were left to fend for desk space in the main office. The floor to ceiling windows that encompassed the whole floor made it a very bright space with little need for any artificial light, a great working environment.

In the far corner of the office was the creative directors suite. Quite withdrawn and insecure for a creative he would usually have his blinds down, cutting himself off from everyone else. He was a good man, with a brilliant eye for detail and a mind full of ideas. To the side of his suite was the huge meeting room.

The meeting room was almost filled by a gigantic, thick black marble table with about 20 large black leather chairs surrounding it, over kill if you ask me. It was fitted with all the mod cons in technology, its own Mac computer, a large projector and also a 50 inch wide screen TV. Around the walls of this room, and indeed filling any wall space left in the office, were examples of the adverts and design work
BPP had received awards for. If one of your creations found its way into a platinum frame and onto the wall, it meant you had made it. We were yet to experience this rare phenomenon.

I closed down my
Internet browser window and looked over at Mike who was still enjoying the insult he had just thrown at me. "Your an arsehole." I retaliated.

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Van Gough

Only sold one paiting in his lifetime . . . he only became famous after he died!

FACEBOOK

Is taking over the world one application after another, wouldn't you agree?!

Monday, 23 June 2008

Did You Know . . .

. . . There are no clocks in Las Vegas casinos!

I did not know this, until about 3 minutes ago. Something new for my day!

Are Bloggers Really Who They Say They Are?

Everyone talks about paedophiles and the like attracting victims on chat sites and myspace etc. But could it be similar on blogger? Except blogger's who really arn't who they say they are talking about things on their blog that are not true and never actually happened, lulling us into a false sense of security?

Personally I am being very honest in my posts. I am trying to keep myself and any characters mentioned throughout as anonymous as possible to keep people's dignities intact.

What if blogger's arn't being truthful, what if we are living in a surreal and invented world within blogger.com . . .

Sunday, 22 June 2008

Love at first sight . . .

. . . fiction or non-fiction???

Wednesday, 18 June 2008

Love

Is love a feeling or an ability?