Find me on Tumblr

http://www.michaelgcasey.tumblr.com


2011 Samples

Here's where to find me on Tumblr plus a book of 50 

samples,  all my copyright

Get in touch if you are print or radio or web I also have some 

sound files on Tumblr too, but when I get a new Editor's 

Keys SL150 microphone I intend recording all 500+ and 

growing collection of my short form writing.

Feel free to donate/give me one, a microphone.

Here’s where to find me on Tumblr plus a book of 50 samples,  all my 

copyright

Get in touch if you are print or radio or web I also have some sound files 

on Tumblr too, but when I get a new Editor’s Keys SL150 microphone I 

intend recording all 500+ and growing collection of my short form writing. 

Feel free to donate/give me one.

http://www.michaelgcasey.tumblr.com

2011 Samples

2011 Samples

Ear Ear

Ear Ear ©

By

Michael Casey

They say we have 5 senses and only a few have a 6^th sense. For me its Ears which are the most important. All because I listen to so much music, music does soothe this savage beast. Ears are useful, we can hear each other, storytellers can tell stories, the 2^nd oldest occupation in the world.

We adorn our ears with earrings, we pull our ear lobe when we listen to somebody, it helps us concentrate. We clean our ears with Q tips and cotton buds, occasionally we end up in hospital because of our DIY cleaning excesses. My mother used to say “don’t put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear.”

We listen to our Walkman, we listen to our phones nowadays, we have music and conversation all over the airwaves and down into our very soul by our headsets and our buds.  Which is great if you love music, but you’ll end up dead because you are not watching the traffic.  You can even have a phone hooked straight into one ear, Star Trek really got that right 40 years ago.

Native Peoples have Sting CDs hanging from ear lobes as decoration,  they even know all the words from Roxanne. Noise and Music washes over us all because of our ears, sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which.  Clothes shops have loud music in them, to distract us away from the real quality of the clothes. The worse the clothes, the louder the music in the store, ask any teenager, I have to wait till my girls are teenagers, and then I’ll ask them.

Our emotions are swayed by what we hear, by music magnifying our emotions, think back to “It’s a long way to Tipperary “ “Pack Up your troubles in your old kit bag” Today we have Lady Gaga arousing our senses, ears included. Listen to Capital radio for a while, you have to if you have young girls in your family. It’s all BEAT , go back to our cave men days, and after the cannibals  had eaten one of the group, you always had a drummer banging out a tune on the skull of the eaten dinner guest.

Ears give us warnings that save us from harm. “If only I listened to my mother”, how many of us have heard that, or even said it. Sometimes we even say we should have listened to our heart, to our soul, listened to sense. But now it’s too late, XYZ has happened.

Ears changed my life, I mentioned this to the nice lady in the library today. We were given an old Bush radio, the one with the saucer dial, and domino size buttons and the marzipan strip carry handle. So we started listening to Radio 4 on the BBC, this meant my intellect was improved just by the act of passive listening. I listened for 20years, and only then did I pick up a pen. So my advice to any would be writer is LISTEN first.

When I’m walking around or doing the school run I’m listening to everything and everybody, a kind of tape recorder. So when I’m writing I have ideas because of what I’ve heard. That’s what Jack Rosenthal did, and he was great, so listen to him if you don’t want to listen to me. You do need your eyes too, if you’ve ever done any security patrols in a hotel, you learn how to watch for dodgy people. Taz and Phil taught  me, but that’s another story.

Sadly some people are so plugged into phones and music machines they have forgotten how to hear. Have they heard the sound of magpies , a bit like the sound of a machine gun, we have 4 or five living or squatting in the trees a few gardens away. So one magpie shoots bullets and the other one replies, I read somewhere they pair for life, rat a tat tat, rat a tat tat.

When we are happy we whistle or hum or sing, our soul soars, we really do walk on cloud 9, ears  weren’t invented just  to hold our glasses on straight, they were invented so we could hear the sounds of love, the very beat of our hearts. So my plea to all of you is to unplug that phone or mp3 player, listen to the music of nature, listen to those three words, “I love you”.

Writer's Block

Writer’s    Block ©

By Michael Casey

I couldn’t think what to write about off the top of my head, normally an idea presents itself and then away I go, so I’ve decided to write about Writer’s Block. I have to go to bed now, I normally write something before bedtime, and sometimes some other times, anyway this writer has to go to bed. So forgive the break and in the morning I’ll continue this theme. I did once work with a guy called Duncan who could not sleep during the day so he fell asleep on the night shift. He’d be typing away at the keyboard in the computer room then woosh, his head would fall forward and he’d hit his head on the screen and then he’d be fast asleep.

So to avoid that, I’m going to bed right now, nite nite. Good morning, well I’ve had my sleep so that’s good, no Duncan head butting the computer, he must be over 40 now, but in memory he’s 20. Memory does play a big part in writing. You harvest memories. I seem to remember childhood like a video recorder, but where did I just put my shades or my mug, that’s so much harder. WE all have a few Black Holes too, bad romance if I misquote Lady Gaga, can be one of them.

Now to get started on Writer’s Block what has happened this morning before I pick up the pen again to talk to you? Well its afternoon now, nearly 2pm. My girls have deserted me for a day trip to London, they’ll be eating expensive cake now in Covent Garden. Shanghai mum’s and their daughters just love cake. I’ve also done a quick bit of painting in the bathroom while they are away, so the paint has a chance to dry while they are eating cake.

Now is this deliberate time wasting by a writer, any writer so that they don’t have to face the page? It could be, I even popped out to the corner shop, but I did have to, it wasn’t an excuse. I’ve had a couple of mugs of hot stuff. First Ovaltine, as I’ve given up coffee for a year now I have to drink something. Then I had my one daily cup of disgusting Green Tea, and it is disgusting, my friend just looked at me like I was an idiot and said “add milk or sugar” when I complained how bad it tasted. My Shanghai wife just scolded me and said I was diluting the goodness in it.

I’m also listening the 3 Mike and The Mechanic albums I have, my record collection kind of stopped 20 years ago, so its like the 90s revisited if you live next door to me. So now I’ve explained everything I can finally talk about Writer’s Block. Though I may stop for a moment for some pain killing cream. Hip Hip Hurray, it was an easy pun so forgive me.

Now what have I proved as I go through the 500 word and pain barrier. I think I’ve proved that writers will do anything so as not to face the page, if they have writer’s block. It’s like avoiding Confession if you are a Catholic. Which reminds me I read a piece by “Holysmoke” in the Daily Telegraph this morning. It was about a drug that keeps you alert, Americans swear by it. I did tweet “Holysmoke” to say Imagination is the best drug and any substances destroy it. I don’t think he’ll reply, but the smoke from the Thurifer  was very intoxicating when I was an altar boy and reader all those years ago.

Writers Block is also like a man on death row wanting to carry on with his conversation with his own shadow so as to keep the hangman at bay. Did I tell you I once read a book about Pierpont the last executioner? It was very good.

Get to the point you bastard I can hear any Telegraph readers say as they read this. But I think I have made my point already. I never get Writer’s Block, it may be because of the p

aint fumes seeping into the front room from where I am talking to you.

Sock Test

Sock Test ©

By Michael Casey

Now I’ve decided to start recording al my shorts, all 500 of them. I write 2 or 3 a week so the total increases all the time.  I have recorded about 20 or so already, but some of those were spoken only and not down on paper, if you like spontaneous. I did get asked by a Radio station to provide audio and even a bit of video, the quality was not perfect, but I did sent PDFs of my material too. So I was hoping that they would open the door for me. I’m beginning to think that one has escaped me.

So I’ve decided to make better recordings and to record the lot, 500 or so. I have put some recordings on Tumblr, so check out michaelgcasey there. I had thought that my microphone was too hissy, so I’ve been looking at mikes on the internet. There is a great site in Germany where you can actually hear the sound quality  of the mike before you buy it, you get a snatch of somebody singing using the different mikes. So this is great.

I’ve also looked at different sites here in the UK and on Amazon of course. I was recommended a good mike by the German site and they give 3 years guarantee. I decided to do a bit more research, the recommended mike had great reviews on Amazon. However I decided to follow my brother’s advice, always look for the negative when buying a house, so ditto when buying a mike. So I looked at the worst reviews.

When you read reviews you are trusting a stranger, and bad reviewers could have an axe to grind. The bad reviewer just said google “hiss on the XYZ” and there I found more “evidence”. I could have bought the wrong mike. However what you have to remember is that audiophiles have a much much much higher standard. They will use specially speaker wire and have amps and preamps galore, and remember the kind of mike I hope to use is what professional musicians use. Obviously the cheaper version, but musicians do have a better ear.

So in a way it left me uncertain what to do, as money is scarce, IF and when Radio people DO use my stuff all my opportunities will arrive together, like dominoes all falling down. Or as my Irish cousins said when my dad survived a “fatal” heart attack and then I met my wife at the old people’s home, I had all my luck in one go. I’m hoping that a film producer picks up a script of mine too, but I just have to keep on waiting, I read somewhere that preproduction can take months.

I also googled “best usb microphone” and got a list of the top ten. So I looked on Amazon again and by accident I was on USA Amazon, and there I stumbled over the 6 minute filmed review of the best usb micro. It was one of the cheapest ones. But I watched and listened, and after 6 minutes I thought I should get that one. Its 40dollars on Amazon USA.  Sound quality really good.

The next thing I thought about was how could I improve my mike. Which leads me to the title of tonight’s short, Sock Test.  All profession mikes have a cover, or a piece of fluffy stuff on the end of the mike to prevent wind noise and hiss, sounds like noises from toilets. So I thought what if I put the cover from my unused mobile phone over the end of my stick mike. Once I did that I recorded a few sample words and listened back to the result.

It did improve the sound of my voice, or rather took away some of the hiss. Actually I don’t like the way I sound , I sound like a teenager, or like a drunk to my own ears. So I then thought how can I make it better. So I found some old work fluffy socks, and used one of them wrapped around my mike, with the mobile sock holding it in place. Sound quality improved and the mike looking more ridiculous. I then had to go out shopping.

I had a brainwave on my way home, what if I used some mini rollers for painting as a microphone sock. I had to tear away the core of the roller just so I could get the foam off. Once done I tested my sound again. The mike looked silly, see photo below, it was like a corn dog on a stick or something. But more importantly the sound quality was getting so much better, I then tweaked it by pulling the foam up about ½ an inch, hey presto I was a BBC sound man. I’d get an Oscar next.

I’ll do a few more tests in the morning, once the screams from the horror film in the living room subside, ½ the wife and ½ the film. I’m pleased with my endeavours, if you go to Tumblr  you can listen to me reading this short out, using my corn dog microphone. Just tell your local radio to put my 500 shorts on their play list, and on their websites. Or tell me to put a sock on it.

Vanity

Vanity ©

By Michael Casey

I was walking down the road I’d just seen my pharmacist, no not a guy in a car handing out stuff from his window in exchange for 20quid. I was at the Pharmacy getting ear drops, and no living with 3 girls hasn’t made me deaf. It will be the death of me, but not make me deaf, yet, they are all much younger than me after all. I hope that explains the context, as writers are told to explain things.

No what I saw was an example of Vanity.  There was a small van with two blokes in it, one was on the phone, which was good for he was NOT driving, I’ve had enough of drivers trying to kill me while they are on the phone while driving. The driver, was leaning out the window so he could see himself in the wing mirror, then he was doing his hair. It made me smile, at least they were stopped in traffic for the moment. But hanging out the window to preen himself.

No of course I’m not vain at all, judging by the way I look as I go up the road to the shops. Well, I do comb my hair before I leave the house, and check my zipper too, but other than that I’m not vain at all. My mum used to shout after my brother “comb your hair, tuck your shirt in, you’ll shame me the neighbours will think I have a Tinker for a son!” Which gave me the idea for Mrs Murphy in my 1^st book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Are you vain? Well do you look at your own reflection as you walk up the road to the shops, pretending to be John Travolta, but looking more like the fat Secret Service guy, the one they call the body guy. Do you adjust your shades and triple check that zipper as you go past the butcher’s shop?

In Snow White it was “Mirror mirror on the Wall” and for all her scheming the wicked stepmother was NOT the fairest in the land, no the Donkey from Shrek was far prettier. Why does mutton dress up as lamb, and I’m not talking about the butcher’s wife either. Why do women try to look far younger when they should grow old gracefully. Though  to be balanced men are just as bad nowadays.

Footballers will ditch their WAGs because they can, because they earn in one week what most of us will earn in 10 years or even 20 years. And yes  if MU are still looking I am available, though I’m older than the manager and weight twice as much, but just let me play for one week, then I can retire happy.

In days of old a glimpse of stocking was shocking, now anything goes. With skirts up to their ar ars , archipelago, WAGs and even the girls down the chip shop preen themselves to catch the boy with the perfect black hair. Just for men, includes hair dye, so boys can and will dye their hair, preening and vanity hand in hand. Yes she may smell of chips, but she’s like Every Ready batteries, lasts longer and she is ever ready.

Beauty products keep us all looking perfect, and if they don’t there is surgery, plastic  plastic plastic   what-evers, to keep your footballer on side, and away from the penalty zone. In the old days the bathroom shelf had one bottle of Vosene, that was  green in colour if memory serves.

Now, now you need seven shelves, lotions and potions, for him, for her, and for the kids. You used to have one brand and one family shampoo that everybody used. Now there is pre shampoo, shampoo, after shampoo, and conditioner and that’s just for the men. Since being married and having two daughters my bathroom is under siege, it’s like invasion of the plastic bottles, I’m sure they are aliens in disguise. And the plastic bottles are reproducing too, I’m sure of it.

All of this is for our Vanity, didn’t there used to be bags called vanity bags that girls took away with them when they went away somewhere. Now we have manbags for men’s vanity too. It’s all so confusing or am I just getting old and greyer/whiter. A spit on the hand and a dab on the head was all you needed to keep your hair down, now its styling gel. Looks more like pigeon dumped on your head, and 8 year olds use it already.

I’m all in favour of beauty, I mean I pull my nasal hair out when it’s too long, I’m  sophisticated like that, a real new man. And why do you sneeze when you pull nasal hair out? I’m not vain either I keep my bushy eyebrows, despite my girls asking when the caterpillars will turn into butterflies and fly away.

So why are we all so vain? Does it date back to cavemen days? You can share my catch and sleep on my hide if only  you comb your hair with that fish bone, and splash a little buffalo blood behind your ears. And then you can spend the night platting the hair on my back.

Over and Over Again

Over and Over Again ©

By Michael Casey

Some things we like to do over and over again, it gives us pleasure, bowling perhaps if you are Obama. Or we like them though we are rubbish but we enjoy doing it, pick your own thing. Now the obvious question is why do we like doing things over and over again?

We may suck our thumb when nobody is watching, it gives us reassurance it makes us feel safe, it reminds us of our mother’s nipple, or lover’s. It’s the comfort and repetition that sooths us, just like Status Quo music, down down dederum down, if I can remember it right. I can actually remember 1973 and hearing Caroline for the first time.

I listen to a lot of music, it was my companion when my brother left home and I was alone in the homework room, 1974. I’m listening to Peter Gabriel right  now, Steam. The beat repeats and the audience claps along to it. I suppose the drums that Native man started with continue with drums and beat in modern music. Though cannibals probably started by bashing a skull with an arm bone after dinner, which was  the slowest and oldest man in the tribe.

We whistle in the dark to comfort ourselves, we are not alone if we can keep a tune going, and why can’t girls whistle. Is it because girls never feel alone, creation is inside them, so they are never alone in a way.

Cricket players rub the ball, they have their routine as they run up to the crease. The batter has his routine too, the touching of this and the touching of that. Golf players have their pretend swing before they do the real thing. Why do they need to have to do things twice or with a certain order?

When my dad came home from the pub on a weekend one of the men always used to say bye three times before he went up the road to his own house. Nobody ever says bye and goes away without ever looking back. Why exactly is that?

Could it be because our heart beat is a rhythm, boom  boom, boom boom, so a rhythm is in us, is part of us. Nature is a cycle, the sun sets and rises in a rhythm, the moon sets and appears again in a rhythm too. The tide by force of the moon rises and falls, falls and rises. So we all have got this music in us. So anything that replicates the forces of nature is soothing to us.

We sing when we are happy, we sing to our new born  as he is at the breast, we are one, mother and babe, in harmony. We sing stirring songs as we march to war, we are trying to create the rhythm of war. We are trying to up the tempo in our hearts, we are trying to make warriors of ourselves, so we can kill each other.

And when we are dead the beat ends, slow songs sad songs are sung as we are carried to our graves. And after death, does the beat go on, I hope so, but each of us will find out that for ourselves.

Checking out the Checkout (c) by Michael Casey

Checking out the Checkout ©

By Michael Casey

Maybe I’m old fashioned, or maybe it’s a form of sport for me, but I enjoy the checkout process, it’s fun. I believe in having a chat as you buy your stuff. Self- service tills are evil, they lead to unemployment, I speak as somebody who had family work in shops. I also speak as the writer of Shoplife a comic play of mine, it nearly made me famous over twenty years ago. I also did 3 years front of house at the 4star CPNEC.

So why do I think the checkout is fun? Well as I watch the staff two or three of them if I’m in a supermarket, or just one if I’m elsewhere I observe them and see who is good who is bad and who is sad. Occasionally I say I’m the mystery shopper, just for fun. Just to see their reaction. They probably think I a boring old fart, but perhaps he IS the mystery shopper.

They are all taught to make eye contact, which is hard as I wear shades most of the time, not as a pose, I really need them, 20plus years in dark computer rooms means that I squint in tiny amounts of sun. So they look up and see their own reflection in my shades. But they are nice as a rule. Some will have dead eyes, too much time spent on the pop the night before. Some are clockwatching, they want to go home. Some need to go home, they have the school run to do.

While in the queue I think which joke shall I rehearse with the checkout girl/boy. You can test your material while you have your 40 seconds at the till. Perhaps stand ups should be forced to test their material at the checkout before boring us at the club, he should have tested it at Lidl first would be the whisper.

There is banter too from checkout to checkout, so you can watch and enjoy the free show. Sometimes the checkout crew can hand you a line on a plate, and you just forehand smash it. Laughter reins. I remember Andy on the switchboard from my hotel days. When things were quiet I’d say something and he would ace it with his reply. Sometimes deliberately I fed the line, other times he was just quick. But the ambience was great. Andy would wrinkle up his face and purse his lips before SMASH, we were laughing. CPNEC was known as a very friendly  hotel, the recruitment process chose smiling faces. Andy would go to his lunch and I’d cover on his switchboard while he relaxed for 30mins. I really admire Andy, his disability meant he had to use two sticks, but he’d hold them up like two fingers, nothing would get him down.  

Little old ladies and the lonely get comfort as well as shopping when they go shopping. That’s why I admire checkout folk, they really do make a difference. That little bit of human contact can and does make the difference. I like to have fun with the manager too. There is some hand held computer thingy which they use to count stock. So I always ask the manager has she Tazered any staff or shoplifters today. Or you can ask the checkout girl how fast can they run, then you add you won’t bother doing any shoplifting that day.

So that’s my view on checkouts, and I can hear you all asking how often does the Checkout Closed  suddenly appear when I approach the till?