This is probably one of the most exciting pieces of news of my career. AAA, no, stuff that, a living idol A TITAN in our world of film music has agreed to invest in Crow Hill. And this is all I have to say about it???
“[redacted] we can sort the rest out. But it’s great, great news. & all in all they’re making a great decision [cocky]”
If anything it indicates all the other shit I was having to deal with at the time. I had been promised investment via another source but for some reason, tax pre-clearance or something. It had failed to materialise. We were running on fumes needed to have a website ready, a product ready, a till ready in order to pay people for making all these things ready!
Month’s earlier, I had posted an email, the kind of email you post and then immediately run for the back of the sofa to take cover. It was an unimaginable liberty, presumption, or notion. I need some money so you can become a co-founder in this new venture. Humble me, BIG YOU. The kind of thing we don’t ask for because we’ve all seen Oliver Twist. We’ve all seen those horrid sequences in films when someone says something and then everyone starts laughing at them at which point the DP whips out the strange wide angle lenses that distort people’s noses and make all the laughter so sinister. Whatever it is we do to kids, we should stop. Oliver should be banned from the curriculum alongside any literature or work of art that depicts public humiliation being administered to someone who has dared to ask for a thing. Come to think of it. My mum said almost promise-like, that if we ever EVER asked for anything we would be sure not to get it. I remember the agony of passing ice-cream vans as a kid. How do I let my Mum know that if one was in the offing I’d be most responsive to the suggestion of a cone of buttery whip without actually fucking asking her if she’d considered this as an option for us on this hot day?
So because of this British, post-ration, live-within-your-means, seen-and-not-heard conditioning, to even venture the thought of reaching out and asking for cash from a childhood hero had me coming out in hives.
The response came.
in 5 minutes.
Truly remarkable. This entry was in response to the confirmation given once the amounts and terms had been suggested.
I can’t tell you who it is yet…. That’s for September this year.
“Worked on prose yesterday which is great [clearly in a very cocky mood on this day]. Launch video looking strong”
By this point I guess I was 5 years into my YouTube channel. Which meant that I had a tight team around me but also the editing chops myself to make something that I thought was agreeable to watch. I knew we would take this to a point of massive satisfaction for us and that we were likely to be happy. However, the way people responded to it was out of my control. I’d kind of gone to ground for 18 months since “the thing” but there’s a lot of Cluster B’s out there and if I know Cluster B’s they can churn something up that happened in the past, like it was yesterday. Its not that they can’t forget, or have great memories. Its that they’re unable to process pain, upset and emotional injury like the rest of us. It’s like not having a properly functioning immune system for emotions. The healing doesn’t occur so yesterdays news feels as raw and shocking as if it was today’s.
I had made the decision not to discuss the thing publicly because of this notion that a large contingent of trolls and internet bullies were cluster Bs. Having experienced these types close up I knew that even a single word could be weaponised, twisted and thrust back into my torso. NOTHING I said could clarify my somewhat clumsily put position, or concern. And that it was fundamentally that, a concern. Not some fully crystallised point of view or sprouting counter-ideology of my own making. However, no contact, no words, just actions, was the advice I was given, and the advice I took. Even if, in my very small smouldering dumpster-fire of the internet, it created a vaccum, some blanks in the narrative that were willingly being filled by people who really didn’t have a fucking clue who I am, where I come from and what my standpoint was. The types of people who feign some form of familiarity or personal affinity with me by calling me Chris. For anyone who actually knows me I hate being called Chris. By calling me that these people are letting people who know me better that they know me less!
Oh gawd I’m having a wallow. Shut up Chris!
Anyway, this is me justifying my insouciance on what should have been a grateful and joyful day. There was a lot of shit going on in this IQ starved brain of mine.
“also did a recce at Edi College for this new educational initiative that is going to rip a new one [ha! see below]. Things are lining up bloody brilliantly. Feeling on much better form”.
Ideas and ego are a potent formula when mixed together. A formula not just for failure but sustained failure. The ego is the fuel that drives the idea forward, but is also creates the need for more fuel (usually of the financial kind) even when investigation has led to the conclusion that the idea isn’t worth driving on any-more, had run it’s course or indeed was a non-starter.
This was the case with SOUND-ED. An educational scheme that I thought would make the local education authority hundreds of millions of quid. It didn’t make a penny. HOWEVER, in true MVP style, we didn’t spend a penny on it either. Within 3 months it was dead on it’s arse.
Me saying “better form” likely meant I wasn’t hungover that day.