I like Nic. Cage that is.

“I am not a demon. I am a lizard, a shark, a heat-seeking panther. I want to be Bob Denver on acid playing the accordion”. Nick Cage.


Dear sports, here's a request of the week from Wednesday 16 April 2008.


I’ll never forget what Nicholas Cage said to me. “Who are you?”

Actually, he said nothing and by some incredible and uncanny coincidence, nothing accurately reflects my acting career so far. But hey man, I liked Nick. For two days over a weekend in April 2008, I was one of many extras on Cage’s latest film, Knowing.

I was gonna be a featured extra, then nothin'. Featured extra is a little bit more important than a fold away chair.

Then as is my charming way, I stood out enough to find myself right at the front of a major scene, not far from Cage too. A few weeks later I went back for another six days to where they had a mock-up of Lafeyette Station. I finally got featured a bit too. In one little scene I'm pushing a group of people through a train carriage as another screaming train is heading towards us. Right next to Cage I yelled "Move it you fucks!" Cage laughed. Well, they did ask for conviction.

He also gave me some sage advice.

“If you step on my foot again, I’ll beat you to death!”

Nick Cage. "I grew up watching adventure movies. Charles Bronson was a hero, Bruce Lee, Clint Eastwood, and I would fantasize that I was in those movies when I was a boy. Then as I got older I discovered James Dean and De Niro and I wanted to be that kind of an actor, so I tried to find my way".

Only time will tell if a parking metre gets more screen time than I do. No, but really, I was the man who staggers angrily around as hundreds of people stream out of a subway exit out onto the plaza in front of a skyscraper. I rather intensely survey the appalling scene that is the result of a subway terrorist attack!

Well, as ya do, eh? Everyone was great. And I tell you, it brought a lot of emotion to people. Hey, it’s just a movie! But no...it really grabs ya.

Nick Cage."I think everything I've experienced has left its imprint on my mind and my soul, and it comes out in the work, whether I want it to or not".

What was Cage like? He was great but what do I know? He can really swing and has that intensity that makes the most naff material believable if you um, believe it. Just like Chuck Heston used to burn up the scenery, he believes it and therefore so does the audience. That's focus for ya.

"Don’t talk to Nick!"

Seriously. Well, what have I got to say that he'd want to hear? Coincidently, I have little desire to meet most celebrities unless for some curious reason, they really wanted to meet me, so it works out fine for everybody.

And yep there was a bit of er, deference to Nick's Hollywood thang. Cage came on mostly for his bit only, then would dissappear, going off stage more times than James Brown in his stage cape at the endless end of a Sex Machine/Brand New Bag medley.

Someone else noted during a previous production, that Nick would turn up in a limo with his assistants, get out, do a great job and then leave. I can't help thinking of some kind of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore routine.

Dudley: "I'm here with the famous Hollywood star and stamp collector, Jim Planet. First of all, welcome to England, Mr Planet!"

Peter: Silence.

Assistant: "Mr Planet will not answer any questions that contain any words. He believes that they are a major source of increasing levels".

Dudley: "Er, levels? Of what exactly?"

Assistant: "Just levels".

Dudley: Makes endless fart sounds.

Hey, in the end we're all here cos' of Nick Cage...and er, Alex Proyas the Aussie Director, the great Oz crews, that Melbourne can pass pretty well for parts of New York and N.Y state, and that you can make a cool film for less than half of the cost of the US. Cage was straight forward and was very prepared. Thus the millions of bucks. There was an air of ah, getting on with a slightly testy and unpredictable employer, dig? But that's showbiz.

But then the employment of thousands and the investment of millions of dollars, ride more than a little on Cage's efforts, and on whether people give a damn about what he does right now on set and in any particual scene. Thinking about such pressure is kinda nightmarish, but we all have a cross to bear. I should be so lucky.

From my tiny and very limited nobody window, it looked like Cage was there to do serious work. Those involved were enjoying having him around a lot. It sure beats sittin' at home...bloggin!

"I'm singin' those Hollywood Blues! I got so disgusted I threw my Martini across the manicured lawn, and it almost scratched my Lamborghini!" The Hee Bee Gee Bees.

Up on the Wardrobe Department warehouse walls was the wide angle, high definition location shots. They looked incredible. It made me want to check out Melbourne. Looks like a swingin' place!

There's something about Australia and Australians that makes the idea laughable of taking stars and the often postured illusions of stardom seriously. I don't think it can be done here so easily, especially on any scale. It always seems...funny.

It's a real conundrum. Showbiz glamour. They may be illusions, but they're the only ones we've got...

I've seen a few stars around locally and they always look er, reduced somehow in our rather harsh Australian sun and landscape. Walking down inner-city Chapel Street, Lenny Kravitz appeared just like an Arts Major from Prahran Campus whose parents have money.

Thus we have no real local stars per se. It's as they say, a kind of joke. Stardom can only happen apparently, by leaving Australia permanently and you still don't believe it. Now I like talented people and even movie stars sometimes, but the centre often doesn't hold...It's a drag too, cos' there are some very, very talented people here and that haven't left permanently yet.

But I can dig the work, recognition and cash. When it's a right on performance, which Cage strives to do rather intensely, well, you bought your ticket, didn't you? Somebody on set said of Cage, "I thought he'd look healthier". And they're right. I thought I'd be more successful by now, but no. Where did I go wrong? Most places, I'd say.

"One more thing, if anybody is listening, that is. Nothing scientific, it’s purely personal. But seen from out here, everything seems different.

Time bends. Space is boundless. It squashes a man's ego. I feel lonely". Chuck as Taylor in Planet of the Apes.

Nick Cage.“I guess a lot of people have thought of my work as odd and yet they meet me and they say, "Well, this is a normal conversation we're having, why is the work so odd?" In reality, I'm actually downright boring. Hollywood didn't know if I was an actor or a nut or if I was this crazy character I was playing. I had developed an image of being a little bit unusual, different and wild".

What do I know about Nick? Bugger all, but the whole groovy experience gave me an urge to know a bit more. He’s said some intriguing things, done a lot of terrific acting, seems like an interesting guy and is married like I am, to an Asian broad. And dig this. She was a waitress and not the freakish and doomed celebrity pairings as per usual.

Yep, I dig Cage, the self-confessed Bob Denver impressionist. And yes, I have noticed his incredible success, especially when compared to my er, failure.

I asked for a discrete briefcase of cash but he said in that classic odd Cage way, “No, I will not provide a briefcase of cash, discrete or otherwise, and you’re standing on my foot”.

Colonel Neville: “Well, then what about a bit part? I’ve got something and I pick up fast!”

Cage: “How about I run you over with my Mustang?”

Nick Cage.“To be a good actor you have to be something like a criminal, to be willing to break the rules to strive for something new. I welcomed the idea of bad reviews because that would mean I was doing something that challenged the critics. I thought I could change acting, which isn’t really my goal anymore. But at that time I was headstrong”.

I must see the film and not just for my minuscule appearance that may or may not make it to the lower right hand corner behind your popcorn. But it looks like fun and a neato drama as well, and Cage seems hip in it. Plus it’s end of the world stuff. My favourite.

So we’re all lined up on the steps of the subway mock-up waiting for the smoke to build. We’re all in torn, dusted, and bloodied New York business precinct attire. Looks great and Nick is standing there, as he would.

Colonel Neville: “So Nick, what’s it like to finally meet me?”

Then it's "Action!" and Cage heads out past the streaming crowd who are screaming, coughing and mixed in with New York Police, Fire and Ambulance officers. It’s tremendous and kinda authentic. Cage goes walking off calmly through the mayhem and down the sidewalk. He tried to warn ‘em, but did they listen? No! The fools!

What I liked was how he did his walk with his head slightly back and distinctive shoulders with that resigned hang dog thing he does. A little Chuck Heston for presence too, say while leaving behind some apocalyptic scene.

Nick Cage."I've always wanted to do work that's stimulating and exciting on an escapist level, but also to do movies that are a bit more thoughtful and thought-provoking and poetic. I used to have this thing I called my Sunshine Trilogy, and now I'm in my Midnight Trilogy”.

Which reminds me. Cage would have been a better last man alive in I Am Legend I reckon. He has that complex, misunderstood sadness, loneliness and unstable thing, that the main character needs to be able to show.

He has a real tone you give a damn about. Get rid of the jelly baby CGI mutants in Legend and improve the depth of the script, and it would have been something sharper, more ambiguous, elegiac and just damn better, no? Will Smith was pretty good, but he was maybe given little to work with of substance, eh? I mean attack of the Gummi Bears...

Instead of Chuck saying “If I can just find the nest!”, it was Will saying “If I can just find the Family Pack of Gummi Zombies!” Frankly, I’m unruffled by marauding candy.

Nick Cage. "Billy Roth's story truly spoke to my heart; despite the darkness and intense despair, an unlikely and flawed character is able to find and provide hope to others”.

Being in a simulated terrorist attack that's merely a rehearsal for the inevitable in Australia, had an effect on me. Must have been the screaming. Yep, it’s gonna be a real laugh. And like a true frustrated er, creative type, I thought what the Hell am I doing with my life? A whole lot a nuttin’, that’s what! If I’m not talented, then nobody is or I must be mad, not that they’re mutually exclusive.

Nick Cage."I've been allowed to surround myself with creative people even when I'm not acting. I get stimulated by exciting people who are passionate about their crafts, passionate about film making, have ideas and are free thinkers".

The mostly Aussie crew were professional and thoughtful and damn, I didn’t want to leave. I always get embarrassed when everyone cheers at the end of the days shooting. I could be quite content to spend three months on location. I’d take notes and film everything. And while actors are a curiously gullible lot, everybody was very nice. The lunch was kinda weird though, and reminded me of when I was twelve. It was as if the ghost of my Mother had packed 200 of her curiously disappointing bag lady lunches. Hey, but quit show business?

Nick Cage."When I was six, I wanted to get 'into' the TV set, but I was very shy, and very much an outsider in high school. My real inspiration came when I saw James Dean in East of Eden at 15. I never got over it. I identified with his need to impress his father. I never want to get comfortable with what I'm doing. I don't think I can grow if I'm comfortable. So I want to push myself a little bit further”.

I found the set beautiful, Alex Proyas the director and his AD's hip and smart. Seeing an actual star do his thang up close was neat. To be a good extra, bit part player, actor and bum or whatever, I try to stay with the positive energy. No, really.

One tries to concentrate, listen, learn, prepare, co-operate and just take it all in. Follow instructions and go with the very uniquely groovy flow of a movie set. I dig any chance to experience any of this crazy movie scene and I’m just glad to be there. It's important to keep focused and spirits up, to take notes and any opportunity to achieve something without being a creep. Also I bathe regularly.

Which is amazing as my parent's were both English! Go figure.

Yep, I really like Nick, but what do I know? I was an extra and extra's are just like parsley.

Night Swallows West.

"As Peeps vehicle climbed onto the elevated roadway, the sun reflected in shooting flashes off the lines of the skyscrapers on either side. On nights that had no moonlight, even these cold, great and empty forms disappeared into the vast ink".



Dear sports, this is my feeble and rather amateur attempt at the first part of a short story that I'll er, publish entirely online. You know where to send the briefcase of cash! I first posted this on Sunday 23 September 2007. I really liked Richard Matheson's freaky and eerie classic, I Am Legend. Though I thought the vampire angle was a bit naff, while disturbing and beautifully well done. I just can't believe in 'em at all.

In fact, I often find horror fantasy neither scary nor fantastic. More a neat allegory, or a preposterous and poor second to the harsh and disturbing facts of er, our current reality. No, really. And I found the I Am Legend film a disappointing, utterly unconvincing and shallow CGI mistaken bore. But what do I know?

Now I thought that the idea of being the poor last bastard on earth and why, would be frightening enough and without the vamps. But what do I know? I hope you get a laugh out of it.





Chapter 1. A Figure On The Landscape.

A light breeze snaked past the open doors of a balcony and through the space between two heavy curtains, pushing them slightly inwards. There was almost no sound from outside and nothing passed within as the cool air drifted softly over the body of Sam Peeps who lay asleep in the half-light of the room. Suddenly the sound of his own voice brought him to a kind of semi-consciousness with the partially shouted words unfolding rapidly in the shadows. He sat up with a wired jolt and his arms pushed out straight from his sides pressing hard into the bed.

"There is no such thing as the Devil", he said.

"Hey, day or night?" he wondered vaguely for a moment before falling back into torpor. Several phrases fell from his half opened mouth as a catechism. "All failure is a lack of concentration. God never interferes in our lives. Energy can only go in one direction at a time" he said in a continuous mumble.

"They're not listening. I tried to.." he growled to no one. "It's all a little late, sport. Yes endurance".

Flattening out on the damp sheets with a deep exhale, Peeps knew these words to be so and that they were a test and difficult to apply. He recalled offering long ago in explanation to someone he could not remember, that in understanding the true meaning of the first, you achieve the simplicity of the second and reveal the clarity of the third. The fourth provides the strength and flexibility to continue. Now as he tried to concentrate he knew that he was alone.

Slipping deeper into exhaustion, Sam Peeps tried to gauge if he was awake, asleep or somewhere in between. At these moments, it seemed that Peeps could think clearly and that there was time in which to do so. In the last of his wakefulness, he saw that they were only sensations, the idea of thought much as vanishing pools of light.

Like his memories, they appeared in a fractional split within a second or were spread over hours in broken pieces. It was sometimes as if nothing had ever really existed, and there was now only Samuel Peeps alone on a silently turning earth.

With an odd and slight smile, another peculiar statement came to him as they often did. "In the sharp sun of midday and the deep drop of night, fallen angels, a false prophet and the Son of God".

Between the long days and a murky sleep that felt like being pulled down into an enveloping and sucking fold, recurring thoughts like troubling and formless insects continued to move and float through Peeps mind. A persistent theme that would rise up in this half-state, was of how Indian people of the Americas once believed that a human being could only truly exist and be complete when they had found their own place within their own part of the world.

If this was never found or was lost, a soul could drift and slowly disappear to the living like a fading echo or as a vapour fades in the sun. Like a figure on the landscape. And then he was gone.


Under the early morning sun against a sky of intense blue, a single vehicle drove towards the crest of a great and ruined bridge that was sprung between the docklands and downtown of a quiet city. High above, thin distant clouds drifted over an almost silent world and the lack of any wind or background noise allowed the slow sound of waves from the beachfront to be heard in the distance.

With an easy curving two mile run up from each end, the massive multi-lane gate led out to the west and beyond. The decaying arc of concrete, steel and tar that formed the bridge crossed a river that flowed through town to the sea. From its mid point, two enormous pylons stood high above the road surface.

The grime covered shafts more than doubled the height of the bridge, each one supporting two giant blistered cables that sweated and dripped a brown rusting drool. The heavily scarred cords followed the line of the structure and draped down to the spine of the arch, from where could be seen the whole of the city, which was almost a kilometer away. The sweeping bay was less than half that distance. Across the river, the adjoining freeway cut through the stillness of corroding industrial areas and dead suburbs. Further into the clear distance were the mountains.

On many occasions he had thought about them and how to the eye they did not seem to change, appearing so separate from the uncontrollable slipping away of things. There was the impossible thought that if he focused intensely enough on their perfect and remote forms, everything would stop, remaining as it was. The distant peaks were so unlike the metropolis, left to its relentless breakdown and decay.

Seeing how rapidly almost everything altered and yet nothing happened, gave the feeling of being in a vortex, where everything is breaking up and swallowed down. It seemed clear that whatever he did and however he held to anything, everything would still collapse and drain away, forcing him off-balance and dragging him into the void.

Walking across the full width of the roadway, Peeps gaze was drawn down to the movement of the water below as the twisting filth formed bent circles of grey. Light on his feet and of medium build, Peeps movements gave a startling sense of alertness and energy against a land that was almost a still-life. Though he appeared at times curiously at ease in the emptiness, Sam Peeps was possessed of a deep and swirling energy. And when in repose, he could seem so oddly at peace that he almost disappeared into the surrounding stillness.

In recurring dreams, Peeps saw himself as a single spinning top on a vast, cold and infinitely flat plain, and as he turned, it was as if he was being overwhelmed, then slowly crushed by a great weight. Those he had known pushed through a broken sleep in noiseless columns as he lay immobilized for hours that could turn into days. When he arose, he remembered them reflected in all that he could see and taste in the cool air.

Standing upon the giant span, the river pushing out beneath him, he felt his legs becoming lighter as his weight seemed to shift to his upper body. For several seconds he thought he would fall, turning over and down into the muddy rush. Jerking back from the railing with a snap, he returned to the vehicle where he sat on the hood with his back against the windscreen, his lone figure stretched out while absently fondling an automatic pistol.

Sliding the gun smoothly into a shoulder holster, he found its form comforting as it embraced his torso with an almost liquid, leather affection. From a pocket, he took out a worn black leather wallet and opened it, the sun glinting off the chrome of a small shield, bringing into sharp relief the digits of a serial number embossed on its metal face. His eyes came to the number ten and his thoughts fell to how it had been that many years since the beginning, as the light bent across the words Detective Samuel Peeps.

With a rip of thin metal, he opened a container of bitter drink, a small breath hissing from the can, and he smiled his strange smile as he considered the possibilities of the day. At a distance, the shimmering urban expanse seemed almost alive. He lifted a pair of high-powered binoculars to his eyes.

"Ok", he said. "I can't save anybody". As he spoke his arm knocked an unopened can that rolled off the vehicle and dropped down onto to the asphalt. The cylinder punctured, began spraying liquid and as it gained momentum, cracked against the concrete gutter and bounced onto the gantry running alongside the bridge rising into the day.

Standing up, he pushed his open palms down hard and said "You can't control your environment, kid. You..." For a moment, he swayed a little, with his head held forward, twisted his shoulders from side to side, and breathed deeply. "Right. Wait".

Sliding into the open vehicle, Peeps turned the key and the engine growled as he closed the door with a soft upholstered thud. Moving smoothly into gear, he accelerated rapidly, making a whirling dust devil. The momentum and flow cleared the mind a little and he considered the ordinary in his extraordinary circumstance and the incredible in the commonplace. As the movement of cold air fell across his hot brow, he repeated a drum upon the steering wheel. Save the world. Save the world.

"Ah, the world. I couldn't.." he said as he looked at a photograph on the rear vision mirror.

Roaring down onto the freeway straight, the drag of the vehicle violently stirred up the endless waste that was scattered over the bitumen and collected in thousands of melted drifts. Paper, dust, mud, flood waters and trillions of insect bodies, formed a putrid blackening goo in anything that acted as a catchment.

As Peeps vehicle climbed onto the elevated roadway, the sun reflected in shooting flashes off the lines of the skyscrapers on either side. On nights that had no moonlight, even these cold, great and empty forms disappeared into the vast ink.