Episode 13: Back In The Field Again

Forget the loafers and sneakers

I need my stepping out shoes

I'm going back in the field again

There's no sense in hiding it, baby

There's a certain excitement

Back in the field again

— Stony Browder, Jr.

& August Darnell, 1983

Yeah, I'm back in Sofia again. But this time a little bit braver and a little more stronger. Before, the expectations of living abroad were such a big mystery to me. Now I know what to expect out here in the field.

In the 3 months of being away, I've notice some changes. First and foremost, there's a new McDonald's a few blocks from me and 2 nearby shopping Malls. One even has a Gap. That's a first time for Bulgaria. I guess some one's trying to instill some conservative dress values on Bulgaria's scantily clad females. Oh, and I hear there are also Oreo cookies here now. Only I haven't stumbled upon any, yet. This news gives me high hopes for a soon arrival of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

The cab drivers still seem shady, but fortunately since I've been back I haven't been ripped off. I think the grocery store clerk lady missed me. She wasn't as mean to me anymore and she flashed a slight smile when I approached the register and commented on some of the food I was buying in Bulgarian. Of course, I couldn't understand a word she was saying, but that was alright by me because for the first time, I felt like one of the regulars. I just smiled back and nodded, "dobre," which means good or okay. Even the video store dude who hardly spoke to me before, greeted me with a big smile and helped me translate video titles. And Sarah had already told me that the folks at my favorite fruit and vegetable stand had been asking of my whereabouts, so I promptly paid them a visit. But on a whole, most things here are still the same. Good and bad. Most notably, my celebrity status. That hasn't changed. I've gotten used to it, though. I even run more frequently and with confidence. I just smile at the onlookers, sometimes giving them a polite 'dobar den' — which means good day or I am meeting you for the first time. Speaking of language, I think I am starting to pick up the language a little faster. My friend Nevena has been my best teacher. She refuses to speak English to me, forcing me to learn the language through sound. She insists that this is how children pick up languages really fast. In this case, it should work perfectly for me, right? Don't answer that.

A few friends of mine from the States ask whether I was going to write about my experiences living back home again in the States, and my answer is no. Simply because the name of this blog is Blog-O-Daria — My Life In Bulgaria not My Life in The United States of America. Besides, it would end up being one paragraph or sentence. But I will mention this about my time back in the States — it was awfully wonderful. Seeing my Mom, family and friends and visiting some places I missed can't be beat. But two of my biggest highlights were seeing my brother Sylvester, who is recovering from a stroke, doing alright. And being reunited with my Bad Boy. He simply takes my breath away.

Oh, and I can't forget going on long runs again with my brothers and my trip to New York with my main man Rick Pepple to see The Clientele live at the Bowery Ballroom are up there pretty high, too. I also had a wonderful and interesting time living with my good friend Martha and her mother Jenny, who kindly let me invade the nunnery with my manly ways. I'd never done the roommate thing before, let alone rooming with ladies, so the experience was quite enlightening. One for the record books for sure.

It was also somewhat difficult to leave the States, again. I mean, I missed Sarah and my new European lifestyle, but I think a three month stay was far too long, because I'd gotten readjusted to the American way of living, again. For me, Bulgaria is like living on another planet. No joke. But I've been back now for about a month and I'm feeling really good about being here. Sarah and I are happy to be reunited. And like my Bad Boy, she has a way of taking my breath away, too. On my first day back, we took a nice long walk through the city. It was therapeutic.

Speaking of taking your breath away, Sarah's in the process of looking for a car. A good used one would be ideal for her situation. Sarah's host parents have been really kind in aiding her with the car buying venture in Sofia. But lately I feel like I have been a total pain in the butt interfering due to my typical conservative American car buying style. Nothing seems to be good enough. Mainly, I'm worried about Sarah breaking down somewhere in the boonies. So it has been a pretty difficult and sometimes stressful ordeal trying to find the right one. So, please wish her luck.

A couple of weeks ago Sarah's good friend Erica came to visit. The two of them met in Bulgaria about 10 years ago in the Peace Corps. And it was Erica's first time being back in Bulgaria again, since. On Erica's first day of arrival, the three of us went for a long walk around the city. The same remedy Sarah used on my first day back, only I'd been gone just three months, Erica had been gone for over 9 years, so it was quite entertaining to observe her re-familiarize herself with Bulgaria's ever changing culture.

The next day, the girls took a 4 day trip to Shumen, a tiny city outside of Varna, where the two of them first met. Unfortunately, when they returned, horror had arisen. The Volcanoes of Iceland erupted leaving Erica stranded in Sofia for a few days. But luckily, Erica found a flight from Sofia to Madrid, and bus ride back up to London in time to meet up with her hubby for their honeymoon in Scotland. But for me, my flying worries had just begun.

You see, because of my unrequited love for songwriter and musician August Darnell, the leader of Kid Creole & The Coconuts and former bassist for Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, a couple of weeks before the eruptions, I purchased a ticket to see a rare Kid Creole & The Coconuts appearance at the Barbican in London. The timing of the show was perfect, because Sarah would also be in London on business. But as the week approached, the timing of the show didn't seem so perfect after all. The news of more flight cancellations, Icelandic eruptions and looming ash over all of Europe heightened, which made our flight possibilities seem bleak. I was just sure my flight would be canceled and I'd miss the one and only opportunity to see The Kid live. But as the day of the concert approached, the ash had cleared and I found myself back in London again ready to attend a dream concert. Whew!

I flew out a couple of days before Sarah to attend The Kid's show. And to save money, Sarah found a reasonably priced YMCA for me to stay in for a couple of days. Staying at The Y also made for a bit of nostalgia considering the association was originally founded in London. This Y was also located next door to The Barbican, making it extremely convenient and easy for me to make it to the show on time. The last thing I wanted was to finally arrive in London and miss the show due to a Tube or traffic back up. So this relieved any stress I might have been having.

My Stay at the Y was an interesting one, because it was also a dormitory or campus housing for a nearby college. The room was clean, but a bit run-down. The guests, which were mostly students, were pretty damn awesome, though. So that made up for any sleep I might have lost. I met a few friends and even hung out a bit. The place was run by the sweetest Jamaican woman with the loveliest patois you could imagine. The students called her Mama. And when she and I met, she insisted I call her Mama, too. I told myself, "there's no way I'm calling that lady Mama. I got a Mama!"

Later in the day, I was exhausted and decided to take nap. I put my headphones on so that I could fall asleep to the sounds of Kid Creole & The Coconuts and have sweet dreams about the coming concert. I awoke to Mama standing over me with the sweetest smile. It scared the hell out of me. My first thoughts were, "Please lady, I'm way too young for you!" Then she explained what had happened with that sweet patois of hers, "Mr. Owen, I tried a knocking but you had them headphones on. You must have accidentally left your door open." She went on to explain, "You see, the carpet sometimes catches the door, so you just have to shut it good behind you." Right then and there I realized why the students called her Mama. She was genuinely looking out for the place. So I just breathed a sigh of relief and said, "thank you, Mama. Thank you very much."

My next door neighbor was a really cool white dude from South London named Alex. I mentioned his skin color for a reason. You see, upon meeting him, I thought he was originally from Brooklyn. His vibe just gave me that assumption. So I politely asked, "you from Brooklyn?" He just grinned and responded in that easy going European way, "Nah, I'm from South London! I just grew up in an all Black neighborhood." This must have certainly been true, because his room was decorated with lots of pictures and posters of prominent African American leaders and hip hop stars. He even had a huge poster of President Obama. I told him that I liked his posters of Tupac Shakur and The President the most. He smiled at my approval.

Alex was about 15 years younger than I, so I thought I'd impress him with my first hand knowledge of Shakur's music by telling him that The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory album was one of my all time favorites. This must have worked because he invited me to dinner. Unfortunately I had to decline the offer asking for a rain check due to my attending the Kid Creole & The Coconuts concert that night. I could see that confusion began to loom about his face. He just had that, who in the hell are Kid Creole & The Coconuts look in his eyes. Right then a strange dude approached us and said, "you going to see The Kid tonight? That's pretty awesome!" And although I was in Europe, where the group's name is almost as household as The Clash, it still impressed me that this young stranger passing by knew The Kid's music. I soon found out that he wasn't a stranger passing by at all, but a good friend of Alex named Peter from the West Midlands. He was pretty cool, too. He and I hung out the most actually, because Alex was busy most of the time during my stay. You see, Alex was like the Big Man On Campus. He had an out going and friendly personality. He seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed to know him. But the main reason why I think he was the B.M.O.C. was because of his possession of the coolest room at the Y. And I'm not just referring to his cool posters and pictures covering the wall space, it was also equipped with Internet, video games, music, DVDs, and red wine! So yeah, every time I walked by his room, there was a constant flow of beautiful girls and dudes lapping in the luxury.

So later that evening, instead of doing dinner with Alex and Peter, I was attending a long awaited concert by one of New York's finest bands, Kid Creole & The Coconuts. It's too bad that they don't tour very often in States, because they really put on a terrific show. For some odd reason or another, the States never embraced this group. I do have my theories, but that would make for a separate blog post. The Kid even touched on this topic during the show saying that, "since the late 70s, Europe, especially England, always welcomed us with open arms." He then politely thanked the European audience not knowing that one little lone American was out there in the crowd who appreciated his music very much and came a long way to pay his respects to one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time.

The only disappointing factor of the show was that The Kid's sidekick and hype man, Coati Mundi, was surprisingly missing in action. The Kid also didn't play any tunes from his Dr. Buzzard's years. That was really disappointing because I consider their 1976 RCA self titled debut one of my top 20 greatest albums I've ever heard in my life. But The Kid's energetic performance and kick-ass backing band made up for the missing pieces. It was also nice to see that The Kid had matured over the years, not taking himself too seriously. He even poked fun of his egocentric years and the hit single "I'm a Wonderful Thing, Baby."

The end of the show would prove to be the highlight for me. And while I am on the subject, I should take back the mention of unrequited love, because somehow magically I got the opportunity to show The Kid some of that love to his face. You see, it all happened when The Kid and The Coconuts did a miniature congo line through the front row of the auditorium. I had a second row seat, so as they approached my section, for the first time in my entire life, I totally ignored three of the hottest half dressed blondes in show business and slid right out in front of The Kid, shook his hand and shyly told him, "Your my biggest musical hero!" He just winked at me in that Cab Calloway-like cool persona of his and said, "sure thing, kid." I was flabbergasted. I mean, I couldn't believe the kid of all kids, called me kid. You know, life just doesn't get any cooler than that. I mean after traveling all the way to London through heavy volcanic ash, it sure made the trip worth while. As I was leaving the auditorium on a natural high, the ticket girls congratulated me and told me that they were really happy for me when they saw me shaking The Kid's hand. They must have remembered me telling them how far I'd traveled to see The Kid and was disappointed that the Barbican didn't allow picture taking or sales of memorabilia or t-shirts.

The next day, I had big plans. You see, when Sarah leaves me all alone helpless and defenseless in a great big city like London, all the usual important educational and historical places we tend to visit gets thrown right out of the window. This left me in big, big trouble. Such as, going shopping on Oxford Street where London's very own super mega-sized HMV store patiently awaited my arrival. Yep, I was like a kid in a candy shop. This HMV reminded me of my late great friend Tower Records. So you know I was in heaven. I shopped for nearly 8 hours without a break, scooping up all the great British television shows that are not available in the States, such as Steptoe & Son, the original version of the States' Sanford & Son, and Man About The House, the original version of the States' Three's Company, and its many spins offs. But out of all the DVDs I found, it was Brian Clemens' Thriller that I was most excited about, a television series reminiscent of The Twilight Zone, in terms of genius, that I adored in my early teens. And for once, it was actually based on a television series that the Brits, believe it or not, stole from States. And as big a MJ fanatic as I am, I'll have to admit that it's really a shame that when one hears the word thriller, the MJ album instantly comes to mind. Because when I hear it, I think of both. Simple because this series is in the same league in terms of a true master work of art.

After my big shopping break down, I'd made plans to meet up with some good friends of mine for dinner and present one them with a birthday gift. This was actually another good reason why my second trip to London was well timed. You see, most of you already know this, but for 4 years now I have been displaying my color pencil paintings on Deviant Art. It's an art community Web site that allow artists to share with other artists or fans and receive feedback. Well, one extraordinary artist by the name of Irene that I've been knowing and getting inspiration from for over 4 years recently ask me if I'd do a portrait of her for her husband G for his birthday. He is also a stunning artist in his own right, and a good friend of mine. I quickly obliged telling her that I'd always wanted to do a portrait of her since I'd met her but was too shy to ask.

I recently completed the work to her liking. And since they live in London, when I told her I was coming to London for the show, she suggested that we all finally meet up and surprise The G with the original art in person. This was a very exciting moment for us all. I was even a bit nervous. Internet relationships can be a whole different world from real life relationships. The chemistry can be awkward. We were also afraid that we wouldn't recognize each other in person. With all this in mind, we needed a meeting place that would make us all feel comfortable and relaxed. None of us are drinkers, so Irene suggested a pizza place would do the trick. I thought it was great idea, too. I mean, who doesn't like pizza? So at her suggestion, she chose an English staple called Pizza Express. She insisted that it would be some of the best pizza I'd ever tasted. Well, coming from Maryland, home of Ledo Pizza, where The Oprah Winfrey Show voted Ledo the best pizza in the States, I was a bit worried that Pizza Express wouldn't live up to the hype. But it did. It was real good.

Oh yeah, enough about pizza. Our first meeting went rather smoothly and The G adored his birthday gift. I was a bit nervous about presenting it to him, being that he's an artist himself and could do a much better job than I. Nevertheless, I could genuinely tell that he loved it. He must have stared at it for a good 5 minutes. I was quite relieved. After we ate we must have spent over 4 hours just chatting away. The waiter had to literally kick us out of the place! Oh, and we all looked just like we looked on our on-line photo IDs and at the end of the night I told both G and Irene that they are just as cool in person as they are on-line. They smiled and reciprocated my response.

Before I was off to bed, I checked my email and saw that Sarah wrote me from home letting me know of her arrival and meeting place. She also reminded me of our plans to finally visit Stonehenge this second time around. I was really excited about Stonehenge. I've always wanted to visit them mysterious rocks since I was a little kid after seeing them on TV. But little did Sarah know, when she said Stonehenge, I also had other plans in mind. You see, Stonehenge is located in Wiltshire, north of Salisbury, which is not very far from Southampton, the birth and resting place of one of my all time favorite comedians, Benny Hill. So when we met up I told her about my additional plans. She said, that it was cool, but that I would have to do all the research work on how to get there on my own. Fair enough.

We stayed in Salisbury. A cozy little town with a huge anglican cathedral. It was the first place we visited upon arrival. It was quite large and beautiful in person, too. When we got to our hotel, I jumped on the computer trying my hardest find the location of Benny's grave. I wasn't doing a very good job, though. She must have noticed this and felt sorry for me, so she sat next to me and assisted. We finally found the location together. Our plan was to take the Stonehenge Tour and then catch a train to Southampton directly after. We knew it would be a very exhaustive day, so we got a good nights sleep and the next day we were off on our journey.

The Stonehenge Tour was pretty awesome. And I'll say it again, like all of the great landmarks that I've seen, it lived up to the hype. Definitely something to see when in England. We took tons of pictures. We even made a couple of friends. Two English ladies named Alice and Ellen. They were the best of friends. They'd known each other for over 40 years and had a love for travel like us. They'd been doing it a lot longer, so both of us took notes. They were also doing the Alex Haley thing by searching for their Roots throughout England.

After the Stonehenge tour, the trip to find Benny's grave would be a difficult one. I mean, it really wasn't easy. You see, his grave was supposedly robbed at some point after he died, so to keep from having that happen again, the ground keepers made sure it didn't stand out. Besides, he was buried with his mom and dad, so we had no idea of knowing where it was date-wise. But I was still determined to find it. I owed it to Benny for all of the joy and laughter he'd given me for over 30 years of my life. As I searched and searched, I started to reminisce of the time when I was 9 and I used to sneak out of bed around 12 midnight, and turn on the tube to watch Benny's show. That just made me more and determined to find it. Sarah, must have known how much it meant to me, so she stuck by my side and did her best to find it, too.

After an hour of searching with help from strangers and even our cab driver, the search for Benny seemed bleak. I really wanted to give up at this point. But I just couldn't. Something inside of me kept saying, no, keep looking. You'll find it. That voice seemed crazy as hell at the time, because Benny's grave was no where in sight!

As we were heading back in the direction of the entrance, with the idea of giving up on our minds, we stumbled upon a very friendly couple who must have noticed how out of sorts I looked. I politely asked for help. I could tell they were surprised and stunned that an American boy had come so far to find the grave of Benny Hill, so they did their best to try to remember where it was located. And thankfully, they remembered and I finally got the chance to pay my respects to England's King of Comedy. But there was one particular thing on the tombstone that made Sarah and I go, hmmm. . . Benny's mother's death date was Sarah's birth date. And believe me, I'm not the superstitious type, but that gave us both the biggest chills, and a possible identity of that little voice inside of me who told me to keep looking.

The next day, we returned to London and Sarah had meetings and work related stuff to attend to, so I was back on my own in London again for another day. Which now looking back in hindsight was probably a good thing. You see this would give Sarah a well deserved break from my morbid pilgrimages. And while I am on the subject, let me say that she's been extremely supportive and understanding my strange grave hunting habits. I guess for me, whether it be a musician, actor, singer, writer, poet, painter or comedian — in life, these people dedicate their lives to us by bringing us some good old fashioned entertainment. And whether you'd want to admit it or not, without them, life would be a very boring place to live. So the least I can do is pay my respects to them when they're gone.

On that note, I am most certain the first death related site in London I visited would make all of my fellow rock and roll guitar aficionados blush like Shirley Temple with a sundae, the infamous Samarkand Hotel or, what it is known as today, 22 Lansdowne Cresant, Notting Hill where Jimi Hendrix died. This was the address where his then German girlfriend Monika Dannemann lived and last place he was seen alive. There's tons of mystery surrounding the night of his death, but I won't go into that, again it would take another blog post. Nevertheless, I thought the place was quite interesting. It was located in a very well to do neighborhood. Very quiet and peaceful. If you didn't know it was the house that Jimi died in, I swear you'd walk right by it. I was surprised that there were no fans around. No plaques. No flowers placed there. No nothing. One would suppose that the owners of the house would like to keep it that way. So I didn't stick around very long.

Anyway, after visiting the house where Jimi died, I found myself back in another cemetery again. London's answer to Paris' Pere Lachaise, the beautiful Highgate Cemetery. And I'll be the first to admit that it wasn't nearly as large or lovely as Pere Lachaise, but it was pretty cool and had its own signature look. I must have spent over 2 hours in that place just walking around, observing the different headstones, taking pictures and filming stuff. And other than a very mysterious young boy drawing in a far corner of the cemetery and two giggly high school girls visiting Karl Marx's insanely large tomb, the place was as empty as a Soviet grocery store. This creeped me out a bit, but I was far too busy taking it all in to even care about being scared. I had such a wonderful visit. When I told my friends about my Highgate experience, they just looked at me like they were going to commit me to an insane asylum. Well, my only explanation for my love of cemeteries is, think of a cemetery like Autumn. Autumn is one of the best examples of death being a beautiful thing. So are cemeteries. I love visiting them. They are always quiet and peaceful places. But I'll be the first to admit, when closing time approached, I made sure my behind was on the other side of the cemetery gates. You'll never catch me in one at night. Uh, I mean hopefully not anytime soon.

My last night in London was a pretty awesome one. I reunited with my boys Yo and Layke from Re-Kill. It was good to see those guys again. Both are born and bred London Boys, so they took me out on Portobello Road where we ate some yummy Thai food and caught up. We chatted about the good times on the Re-Kill set and our anticipation of the films upcoming release. Later on we met up with two of Layke's friends, Anthony and Mya. Mya was in her teens, but pretty mature and cool for her age. Anthony was a pretty cool dude, too. He had a really awesome looking military jeep that we rode around town in, getting more looks than I get in Sofia.

As the night went on, Yo had to get back home to host friends. The rest of us eventually ended up at their friend Yugo's place. Yugo, was from Rome and had a super sweet comic book collection that I enjoyed reading the entire time I was there. Another friend of Layke's showed up later in the night named Emma. Layke had been wanting Emma and I to meet for some time now because Emma was like my twin sister separated at birth. She was also an actor and loved the very best horror movies. She performed awesome card tricks that I am still puzzled at to this day. Layke, Emma and I eventually ended up at Emma's place where the three of us partied until 4 in the morning. This venture of the trip was like the cherry on top of the pie because my first time in London, Sarah and I did nothing but a Beatle Pilgrimage and the usual touristy stuff. And although I loved doing those things, the second time around was much sweeter and relaxed because we had no real agenda. A lot of things we did this time, we stumbled upon or came up with at the very last minute. It gave me a new appreciation for London. I think I'm in love with London.

But before I end the first Blog-O-Daria of the new season, I always have to say that my photographs tell a far better story than I can. So if you'd like to view pictures from my second trip to England click here. After that, if you just can't get enough and still want more pictures from England, and I do mean MORE, 800 to be exact. Click here for pictures from my very first trip to England with a little Turkey mixed in.

Okay just one more thing before I close. I also found myself back in the company of a director and producer again auditioning for another part for in an upcoming movie ironically called Super Eruption. It's about a volcano explosion in Yellowstone National Park. And thankfully, I landed a part in the film. But after doing two films now and learning a little bit about the field, I've found that what is promised to you can also be taken away in the snap of a finger. So I'll keep you posted on how that's going. But for now, wish me luck, folks.

Be seeing you.

O

Coming Autumn 2010

Episode 12: Timer

My darling friends.

Oh, I belong to Timer.

He changed my face. You're a fine one Timer. You've got me walking through the gates of space. I keep remembering indoors that I used to walk through. Baby, I'm not trying to talk you down. But I could walk through them doors onto a pleasure ground. It was sweet and funny. A pleasure ground.

— Laura Nyro, 1968

Don't worry mom, I haven't joined the army, I'm not a soldier. But I play one on TV. You see, I finally got the part of a soldier instead of a camera boy by landing another role in an upcoming movie. This time in the sequel to the 2002 version of the H.G. Wells classic, The Time Machine. This one is called The Time Machine: Morlocks. It won't be a theatrical release, but rather a Sci-Fi Channel (SyFy) special/straight to DVD release.

My experience on this film was totally different from the last one. For starters, my scene was shot inside of a studio, so I had no trailer, but I was issued my very own room. Since I had speaking lines, I also got to experience my first script reading. For the folks who don't know, a script reading is when the entire cast gathers in a room and read aloud their parts from the actual script. Okay, okay, I know — pretty self-explanatory, but Sarah had to inform me of this. I had no idea that actors did this before filming a movie. It was really fascinating and strange reading your lines aloud in a round table format with everyone listening. And If it wasn't my second film experience, I would have been terrified to do this. Instead, when they got to my part, I just whizzed right through it like a pro.

And speaking of the cast, I guess I should mention that the film features some pretty big named actors from sci-fi domain, including David Hewlett (Stargate SG-1), who was a very funny and friendly gentleman, veteran actor Robert Picardo (Star Trek: Voyager, Deep Space Nine), Ray Fearon (Harry Potter), Jim Fyfe (Dark Shadows — I worship this show!), and Christina Cole (Casino Royale, Doctor Who), who, on our initial point of meeting, I stupidly uttered the dreadful phrase one should never say to an actor upon meeting them on a set — "have we met some where before?" My friend Bunks would have wanted to be a fly on the wall for this moment. You see, at the time of meeting her, I didn't realize she was an English actor who'd appeared in a dozen or so well-known films. So when my photographic memory kicked in, I just assumed that I'd met her somewhere in real life, not on television so to speak. Yeah, real dumb. She just looked at me with a funny smirk and said rather politely, "Um...I don't think so." After the script reading, later that night I recalled the story to Sarah and we Google stalked her on IMDB, and instantly recognized her from our all time favorite Sci-fi series, Doctor Who, that I just so happen to bring along to Europe. Anyway, this script reading went on for hours. As we read along, the Director of the film, Englishman Matt Codd, would interject every now and again, asking us our opinion on keeping or deleting any awkward or funny lines in the script.

Another big difference from my last film, is that I landed a rather tiny role this time with about 4 speaking lines. I play a scared soldier, and literally that's the name of my character. He, of course, gets eaten up at the end of the movie by a huge Morlock. And like Sarah said, I might be becoming type casted like a scream queen, but in my case, a scream king. Oh, and believe it or not, I was originally considered for the role of one of the main characters. The director liked me for the part but when he sent my tape to the New York office, they thought it would be best to go with a bigger name. Damn! Would have been cool to play the main character. Nevertheless, Sarah reminded me that winning the tiny role was something to be proud of. Just hope it doesn't get cut. Ha! Me and a couple of my fellow actors with tiny roles in this film were chatting it up at the wrap party and cringing at the possibility of having our parts cut from the film. That kind of stuff apparently happens often in the business and you have no control of it. So keep your fingers crossed for me.

Having been casted in such a tiny role brings to mind another big difference between both films. This time I got only one day of shooting. And my scene didn't involve any of the big actors to act with. So this unfortunately eliminated the cast camaraderie I experienced with ReKill. It felt really strange after having so many days on ReKill and just one day on Morlocks, but it was still a day to remember. You see, originally the casting director told me that although I'd be playing the part of a soldier, there would be no need for me to cut my hair. And that on the day of shooting, they'd just slick it down with a lot of thick hair grease to hide it under the helmet. This was relieving because I'd only got a tiny role and didn't think it was worth cutting my hair for it. Ha! Look at me getting all prima donna-esque after starring in just one film. Had this been my first, I would have cut my hair with no questions ask.

Anyway, when I got to the set all made up like a Real American Hero, Jimmy "Jimbo" Oxford, the assistant director, took one look at my long hippie hair and said, "cut that hair or go home, kid!" I just looked at him in shock as he continued to mutter, "or show me that you can hide it all under one of them military helmets. You want to be a star? Well, it's show time. So make a decision fast." He walked off leaving me speechless as the make-up people escorted me up to the make-up department with my head hung low. These girls were pretty awesome, though. As I sat in the cutting chair helplessly staring at the barber blades aiming for my 'fro, they told me not to feel bad and that even the bigger named actors moan and groan about getting their hair cut to play a part. So I guess they must be used to sympathizing with the actors because they did the best they could without cutting it all off. They basically gave me a real close shave and cut the sides and back of my hair in an upward like motion making me look like a Kid n' Play reject. And no, I will not post pictures of my new doo, so forget it!

After the girls butchered my hair, one of them did the best she could by stuffing the rest inside of my helmet. She gave me the thumbs up and sent me on my way. I was really nervous going back to the set having to face Jimbo again. I just took a deep breath and timidly walked up to him and said, "I'm ready, now." He looked at me with a surprised expression, and said, "wow, you got it to work! Awesome, let's do this!" At the shoot, Jimbo and I got along just great. He was really wonderful to work with. Which brings to mind another big difference in shooting this film as opposed to the first one. In ReKill, it was really easy to act frightened with 200 hundred authentic looking Zombies coming at me. The Morlocks in this film will get the CGI treatment after the filming is wrapped, so there were no authentic looking Morlocks running around the set. This made it extremely difficult to act like a scared soldier. Jimbo, realized this tiny dilemma and right before the camera started to roll, took me to the side and said, "Owen, act as though you are caught in the deep south surrounded by a 100 Klansmen holding a white girl's hand." His advice must have really done the trick, because we got through my scene in only 4 takes.

The extras playing armed soldiers were pretty awesome, too. At the end of my shoot, I realized that I unfortunately broke my machine gun and they joked around with me about paying for it. Then out of nowhere the entire set erupted in cheers and applauds. It freaked me out at first, but then I remembered seeing the cast for ReKill do this after an actor had wrapped their final scene. I unfortunately never got applauded on ReKill, because no one knew my actual last day of shooting.

Okay, regardless of the fact that I only shot one day, and a tiny role, I still enjoyed myself and learned more about the movie making process. And oh yeah, I almost forget — even though it was just one scene I shot, when the director shouted out "action!," I still whispered to myself, "Owen, you are actually making f**king movie," again.

Speaking of time machines, if I had one, I'd do 2009 all over again. It was indeed a phenomenal year that I'll always remember. It was the year that I witnessed The United States of America swear in its first African-American President. It was the year that I let old habits die hard and let bygones, be bygones. It was the year that I got brave and strong stepping out into the unknown. It was the year that The Beatles had finally remastered their catalog.

But like anything in life, there were a few disappointments in 2009. Like when I spent a couple of months extremely ill or when I was moping about because I never got called to substitute at the American School. Oh, and that one time when I almost got my ass chewed off by a pack of stray dogs is up there pretty high. Oh and I can't forget just a few minutes ago when I slipped and fell on the icy snow covered pavement in the cross walk while tons of onlookers stared and laughed at me! That was quite embarrassing. But on a serious note, nothing would be more disappointing than losing The Greatest Entertainer Of All Time. And even though I was devastated and saddened beyond belief when the entertainment world lost The King of Pop, I still found a way to smile inside when I stopped to think about just how much that dude had accomplished in his 40 years of being in the spotlight. He set the bar pretty high. So If you're reading my Blog-O-Daria, MJ — here's a quote from me to you that I'm stealing directly from your old friend Madonna regarding your passing: "I can't stop crying. I'll be crying for a long, long time."

The year 2009 would have never been the same had I not met Sarah, though. And excuse me if I get all mushy for a minute, but the advice and support she gave me in my decision making process in 2009 is immeasurable. And one of my biggest worries in making my decision to move abroad was living with a woman again. I had not done that in 15 years. Talk about horror movies...I was terrified! So besides me calling her a lazy whore every now and then for not cleaning the bathroom or her smacking me up-side my head for walking around in my drawers while having company over, living together with Sarah has been just wonderful.

Okay, since I'll be traveling back to the States for the Holidays and New Year, this will most likely be my last Blog-O-Daria for a good while. I might even retire it. Who knows? But let me say from the bottom of my heart — THANK YOU all for tuning in each week and leaving me wonderful comments that truly warmed my heart. And I must leave you with one of the warmest comments of them from my good friend Sieaun telling me, "Owen, missing your Blog-O-Daria is like missing my favorite TV show Desperate Housewives." Imagine that, my little ol' Blog-O-Daria being compared to Desperate Housewives. It just don't get any cooler than that.

Happy New Year.

Be seeing you.

O

Episode 11: Happy Holidays To You

Lots of happy

little children

waiting for sunrise.

A stocking full of candy

and big surprise.

Look at the happiness

in their eyes.

They're glad it's Christmas.

— Mark Woods Jr., 1979

Happy holidays to you all. And despite the economic crisis in the States, I do hope that you are feeling happy and in good spirits this holiday season. For me, it's been a really difficult time finding The Christmas Spirit this year, living abroad and away from family and friends. It was also tough getting into Thanksgiving this year. But of course, folks here don't celebrate Thanksgiving so that was understandable. As for Christmas, they just don't do it up like they do in States. Sarah tells me that the lack of Christmas spirit in Sophia may date back to the days of communism. But on the other hand, It could also be contrast. The States can over-commercialize the holidays and I could just be used to everything being overwhelming with decorations and such. Nevertheless, the spirit for both holidays hit Sarah and I last minute. Let me tell you how it happened and recap some missed moments from November and December of my life and times in Bulgaria...

First off, there was Thanksgiving in Sophia. And although my good friend Joe stepped up to the plate to save the Day for us good ol' Americans, it still felt kind of weird when I woke up Thanksgiving morning. Coincidentally, I received a happy Thanksgiving wish from my Hyattsville homeboy Mike McCarthy asking me how the day felt. I guess he was curious because he had also experienced life over seas during the Thanksgiving holiday when he lived abroad in England. He told me that for him it felt like a regular old day. And he couldn't be more accurate. There was no anticipation for my Mama's cooking. No traditional Thanksgiving Day morning Hills That Kill run with my brothers. No Dallas Cowboy football game to look forward to. Damn! The world felt like it had come to an end. Nevertheless, I moped on over to Joe's place around 2 to help him prepared for what turned out to be a pretty awesome Thanksgiving Day celebration in Sophia, regardless of those absences.

Sarah met up with us around 6. And at 7 pm sharp, our friends, Stetso, Kami, Alex, Dani, Ellie, Addy, Jonas and his wife Ryna all showed up for the occasion. And my man Joe threw down, indeed. It wasn't like my Mama's of course, but it was pretty damn scrumptious.

Oh, and when I say I helped Joe, I just mean I handed him some seasons, cut potatoes and did the dishes as he single-handedly prepared everything from a traditional Thanksgiving Day turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce, that he had been saving in his fridge for a year, as cranberries are tough to come by in Sophia, to a special macaroni and cheese dish from his very own late grandmother's recipe. And it was truly the bomb! I could tell it was also a big hit for everyone else — because as I glanced around the room, folks were licking their lips and pleading for seconds. Since I was Joe's assistance during the making of his secret mac and cheese dish, I did sneak a peak or two at how he done it. But there's no way I'd be able to repeat it. I'll just stick with my usual Kraft Macaroni & Cheese in a box. I'm pretty good at that, so don't challenge me, you will lose! Anyway, needless to say, Thanksgiving in Sophia turned out pretty well. Joe even gave me first choice to the leftovers.

Now on to Christmas in Sophia. That's been, surprisingly, the toughest for both Sarah and I to get into this year. I tried playing my new Three Degrees Christmas album that I got in Prague, Sarah got us stockings and a Christmas wreath for the door — but sadly, none of it got us into The Christmas Spirit. Then last Sunday it all happened for us. We rented our little black Volvo from Rotto Rental Car for the weekend to take a trip to Blagoevgrad to visit Sarah's host parents Alexander and Slaveika and their daughter Vanya and her son Slavi for the holidays. They graciously prepared a wonderful Christmas lunch with homemade wine. The Christmas Spirit was creeping its way near me. But that still didn't quite do it. On the way back, Sarah suggested we stop by Bansko, a ski resort near Blagoevgrad. It had the most wonderful little town center you could imagine. Covered in snow and decorated with Christmas trees all around, it reminded me of a scene from my Mom's all time favorite holiday film, It's A Wonderful Life!

We froze our butts off while romantically walking through the winter wonderland like scene with me bitching and whining the whole time. That's when Sarah suggested we go inside one of the little pubs and sit by the fireplace. We found a nice one and just sat and chatted about our childhood days, chillin' and enjoying the vibe. The Christmas Spirit was knocking on our door at this point. After the pub, we headed back home, feeling a sense that The Christmas Spirit was in the air. We could almost taste it, so I popped in that Three Degrees Christmas CD to see if it would sound anay better. It sounded good to our ears this time. The next morning we both just knew what would really get The Christmas Spirit going for us. That one thing that always does. A Christmas tree. It would have to do it. So we skipped breakfast and headed out for the market. Just as we got out of our front door, something unexpected happened. Snow drops started to fall. We looked at each other and smiled like one of those claymation characters from that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer holiday special. We only had a little time to do this so we didn't savior the moment too long, we jumped in the car and speed off to the market.

When we got to the Christmas tree lot, I was a little surprised or taken back. You see, as the familiar holiday anthem, "Linus And Lucy," by the late great Vince Guaraldi, began to play inside my head, I looked around and noticed that all the trees looked like the scrawny little tree on A Charlie Brown Christmas. We just laughed about it and chose the biggest one of them all to compensate. The guys at the shop wrapped it up tight and drilled on a tree-stand, charged us 30 lev and then we were off. As I walked around the market with the tree, my celebrity status reached an all time level of highness. It was even higher than when I run! Folks just stared and even came up to me and politely asked, "where and how much the tree cost?" It was really interesting. Because in the States, if folks saw us walking around town with this Charlie Brown-looking tree, they'd laugh at us! But here in Sophia, our little ol' Charlie Brown tree was the cities latest attraction.

We finally got out of the market and onlookers and rushed to the store for decorations. We got home and unwrapped the tree and slapped the decorations on. making our Charlie Brown tree look gorgeous. We just sat around for a minute, giggling and looking at it like were little kids at Christmas. At night it was even more impressive. The Christmas tree did it. We finally found The Christmas Spirit.

The mood is right, the spirit's up,

We're here tonight and that's enough.

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

— Paul McCartney, 1979

That same evening, I'd promised Sarah that I'd attend a Christmas celebration at the British Embassy in Sophia where Sarah and others read scriptures from The Bible and sang Christmas carols. Yeah, I know, Mom...you would have been proud to see me in this kind of religious setting. I guess (clears throat) The Christmas Spirit came over me much harder than I expected. Besides, I did promised Sarah I'd go and I'm glad I did, because it was a lot of fun and cemented The Christmas Spirit inside of me.

Oh and before I forget, I had another week alone in Sophia. Sarah went to my home away from home, the lovely New York City, on business. Picture that, me in Bulgaria, and Sarah in the USA. Something's a little odd about that picture, right? Who would've thunk it? And I was jealous, too. But to sooth my jealousies, Sarah brought us back a ton of goodies from New York. I mean she literally filled up an empty suitcase with stuff! One of the items that she brought back instantly erupted my Happy Dance — an assortment of candy treats that you can't get in Sophia, like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Hershey bars and York Peppermint Patties, that I was surprised she found those in the States. I thought Patties disappeared with the 80s? Anyway, careful when you see me over the hoildays, I just might have a huge pimple or two with me waiting to say hello. She also shopped for cloths and gifts for others. But there was one item that she'd brought back from NY that I'd been waiting years to get. The Kraftwerk remasters! And if you don't know, you'd better ask somebody, because like the Beatles Remasters that came out in August, it was a crime that both groups waited so long to remaster their catalogs. Because just like the Beatles and other extremely important musicians such as Sly & The family Stone, Led Zeppelin, Aretha Franklin, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Bob Dylan, Motown, etc. — Kraftwerk are in the same league in terms of their utmost importance and astounding influence on the music world and culture. They are considered the godfathers of modern music. So thank Kraftwerk for the over-use of computer generated crappy music you hear on the radio today!

Speaking of music, I can't end this story without telling you about the musical acts I've recently seen in Sophia. It seems that Sophia has been getting some good ones to perform this year, too. To add to the already superb list of artists who already came, such as, Madonna, Macy Gray and ZZ Top — Boney M. and Simple Minds are now added to the list. And next year the great Elton John, will grace the undiscovered gem of a country. A group of us are currently trying to hunt down some possible VIP tickets to The Captain's show, but it's been difficult trying to find them.

Okay, now on to a review of the concerts, and unfortunately, there's always one or two duds in a fireworks' box on the 4th of July, because Boney M. — the ABBA of Germany — sucked harder than a kid with an ice cream pop! It's a good thing I braved this one out alone while Sarah was in New York, because I would have been embarrassed had she or anyone else been with me. First off, they came on stage with a boombox and no band. Bad sign. Then I realized it was only Maize Williams up there. The other three were replacements. End of discussion. If they had advertised it that way I would have never purchased a ticket. Nevertheless, the energetic Bulgarian audience seem to have enjoyed it regardless of how I felt. I guess I am just a bit of a stickler for an original. Anyway, if you're reading my Blog-O-Daria, Miss Maize — please get the old band back together and do it up like '77. I'd even pay again to see a reunion.

You turn me on,

you lift me up

And like the

sweetest cup

I'd share with you

You lift me up,

don't you ever stop

I'm here with you

— Simple Minds, 1985

Anyway, Simple Minds — one of Scotland's greatest band of all time underneath Average White Band and right before Belle & Sebastian — made up for the awful Boney M. concert. Those dudes were smokin' hot! They trumped Madonna, Macy Gray, and — I hate to say it — they even trumped ZZ's spectacular kick ass concert in October! Me, Sarah, and Joe danced the night away as the spectacular Jim Kerr led his band to an awesome 3 hour performance of hits, B-sides and album classics, such as, "Glittering Prize," my favorite that I kept annoyingly yelling out until they finally did it, the very memorable "Don't You (Forget About Me)," and a heart warming encore of "Alive and Kicking". The original classic '84 line up was present, with the unfortunate exception of the female background singer. But they had a look-alike replacement that did the job well. Charlie Burchill and drummer Mel Gaynor still had the chops. And Kerr's voice was stronger than ever. I was quite impressed. And although Sarah and Joe were only familiar with the unforgettable "Don't You (forget About Me)", they seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, leaving me with no worries.

Will you recognize me?

Call my name or walk on by?

Rain keeps falling

Down, down, down, down.

— Keith Forsey & Steve Schiff, 1984

Okay, as I mentioned before, I'll be coming home for the holidays this year. I'm excited. But I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous, too. I'm a little afraid I might go into shock over what I've gotten used to living abroad. I do hope I'll get the chance to get together with you all. You know, hang out, catch up on both ends. Although, if you've been keeping up with my Blog-O-Daria, you'll pretty much know most of what's been going on with me. But I can still give you a bit more details and stuff. Anyway, what I'm really getting at is — if you do happen to see me, and I'm a bit out of sorts or disheveled looking — you know, acting in a different manner that you're not used to, please be patient. I mean, I don't think living abroad has changed me, but one can never tell. But if this does occur, just remember this — I'm still the same ol' Owen. I just need to get a little readjusted.

Be seeing you.

O