Just the one, but have collaborated loads. If you have an office job, instead of doing any of your work today, please faff about here and go to 'about me', 'videos', 'pics', and 'youtube.com/guyjjackson' for storybooks, movies, shows, and albums I'm honored to've done with the likes of Clay Hawkins, Isnaj Dui, Pete Duggan, Holly Grigg-Spall, Neil Evans, Nathan Penlington, Katrina Ross, Gino Caputi, Marianne Butler, Adam Davis, Dean Tomihira, Effie Woods, Aneta Bo Piotrowska, Daniel Barry, Dorna Aslanzadeh, Holly Pester, Emma Robertson, Rahima Hall, Brett Gowlett, Noah Vale, David Dando-Moore, Donnla Hughes, Ernie Burns, Laura Holness, Tamsin Kendrick, Dead Air Raid, Zak Kilberg, Nafeesa Monroe, Moby, Ewelina Kowalczek, Ricci Beevas, Emily Doherty, Molly Butterworth, David Goo, The Crisps, and the ineffable Lazy Gramophone.
Influences
Bob Dylan, Terry Gilliam, Garrison Keillor, Peter Sellars, David Sedaris, Eric Bogosian, A. Whitney Brown, Mick Jagger, Stephen King, Tyler Crimperwell, J.D. Salinger, Jordan Kostlow, Glen Campbell, Woody Allen, William Gay, Mrs. Evans, Mr. Meath, Mrs. Moore, Foster Miner, Alanis Morisette, Justine Grafton, Larry McMurtry, Kurt Vonnegut, Jewel, Norton Juster, Kinsley Seelamoon, Leonard Cohen, George C. Scott, David Letterman, Nathan C. Ford, Marjorie McDougall, Dad, Mom.
CLICK ON THE PICS BELOW TO ORDER STORYTELLING ALBUMS...& IF YOU DO SO, THEN THANKS VERY MUCH!
HERE'S AN EDITION OF LONDON UNLIT I LUCKED INTO...MORE ON VIEW AT youtube.com/JontMusic
HERE'S SOME SHORT MOVIES, MORE ON VIEW AT youtube.com/Guyjjackson
HERE'S A MUSIC VIDEO MADE FOR OL' PETE DUGGAN; HE'S IN 'THE HIDEAWAYS'. YOU CAN FIND BOTH IN 'TOP FRIENDS' OR GO TO: myspace.com/mrpeteduggan or myspace.com/thehideawaysmusic
Please see the blog for Guy's professional resume/bio in case you are Hollywood calling.....................
OR ELSE ALSO MAYBE ALSO SEE ALSO.........myspace.com/lightbuoyfilms....myspace.com/sirworkhovenfilms............pioneerdrama.com..........lazygramophone.com.......................youtube.com/LightBuoyFilms..........................................
"storytellinguy" is not actually Guy J. Jackson's real name, but Guy J. Jackson is. "storytellinguy jj" is more a sort of fake-out band name, as Guy is actually only a storyteller except not one of these storytellers that tells you the same old junk told by, oh, say, 18th Century Russian weavers, or the Brothers Grimm, or Molduvian mountaineers, or that smug loser Aesop, and Guy would like to make this distinction clear because once he got shoved out the door of a 'storytellers' open mic night because it had actually turned out to be a folklorists open mic night even though it was advertised as a 'storytellers' open mic night. Not to say that Guy isn't down with folklorists, it's just that maybe possibly slightly a little bit kind of Guy would like to slightly push forward with just his little pinkie finger the wee advance of the idea that maybe folklorists should be called 'folklorists' unless they spew original material in which case they could then be called 'storytellers'. But then again of course Guy also rolls his eyes over those who'd crush coal into diamonds over semantics. So...the point anyhow being Guy tells his own stories that he writes his own self. And point being about the alias 'storytellinguy jj' is that it's in place so hopefully none of the actual musicians on Myspace will get their panties in a bunch because a storyteller is sidling into their ranks so he can take advantage of the audio clip thingy. Though come to think of it Guy J. Jackson's stories even often have musical underscoring. Still you never know what's gonna be said what with drummers in existence, though. Drummers are always the biggest pencil pushers. But anyhow Guy writes stories and then performs them. Biographically speaking, Guy is a male, he lives in England these days, he also makes movies (please do visit youtube.com/Guyjjackson), and he's written a lot of other stuff besides short stories, like screenplays, plays (pioneerdrama.com), and even a slim novel (slated for publication in 2008). Guy hasn't written much poetry though, he's not that smart. Poems are hard. But Guy's written screenplays though. Speaking of which, anyone got a million bucks for Guy to direct his debut feature film with? Seriously. Give him a million bucks and he'll come back with a 100 million dollar gross, easy as you please. It's a horror movie, too, the screenplay Guy's written that he wants to make his debut feature with, and there's lots of money in horror movies. But it'd be a totally original horror movie, not any sort of vampire crap. That's why it'll have the same gross as 'The Blair Witch Project', 'cause it's so damn original. No vampires. Guy doesn't hold with vampires. Doesn't find them scary. 'What's scary about a vampire?' Guy will ask you. Guy reckons getting bit by an actual vampire would be less a scary situation and more a squeamish one. Plus, vampires also aren't scary because they don't exist. Anyway, got a million bucks to fund Guy's non-vampire directorial debut horror film feature? Okay, well think about it. In any case, biographically-speaking Guy likes walks in parks when it's past dark and unsafe to be in parks and Guy likes doing dishes because he figures it's the same as meditating, and Guy has those dire aspirations to want to make movies like most everyone else who's ever had a muse whisper in their ear. Speaking of which, got a million bucks? Guy wants to make a feature film. He'd make it real good. It would see a 100 million dollar gross at least. He knows his target audience. Okay, well think about it. Meantime, Guy also doesn't reckon war is necessary and feels that if he can 'talk things out' with his Mom about the logistics of going to Costco and buying him some new socks even though he's too old for her to be doing so, then anyone can talk out anything without having to resort to bombs. But that's just Guy's opinion and, hey, no one needs share it. Guy J. Jackson writes his full name out a lot so Google can maybe find him and then maybe he'll get a million bucks to make a debut feature film and then maybe Guy'll be famous and have money for when his organs fail in forty years. Better make that fifty years, as Guy J. Jackson doesn't want to jinx himself. Better make that sixty years. No, actually it's unlikely his organs will fail. He will decide to die when he feels the time is right and up until then he'll be fit for most anything except never tennis. Tennis is just a lot of back-and-forth. Guy reckons pro tennis players must have even worse obsessive-compulsive disorders than Guy himself does. Except that Guy in his childhood used to really be into playing with that tennis ball cannon they got for tennis practice. Maybe Guy's even got a tennis ball cannon story up his storytelling cannon. He used to like the tennis cannon (this was at the local health club in Fairbanks, Alaska) because he'd pretend it shot cannonballs, back in the day. But now Guy feels he's outgrown the idea that it would be fun to shoot cannonballs, or guns, or missiles, or whatever war kind of stuff. But anyway really what Guy J. Jackson needs fame and fortune for, besides decent health care since health care in his home country, along with freedom, isn't free, and besides him also needing fame and fortune so he can make the twenty superlative screenplays he's written and co-written into twenty superlative feature films, he also needs fame and fortune so he can achieve his dreams of having cars, women, and food. When he's not writing Guy J. Jackson muses over these things he'll someday have when he gets discovered on Myspace the same as Arctic Monkeys did, or Lily Allen did, or that one girl with the really historically inaccurate song about punk rockers wearing flowers did. Guy J. Jackson murmurs of his dreams: 'When I'm rich and famous I'm gonna have a Camaro and I'm gonna make sweet love to Jillian Hodges and I'm gonna have a chili cheeseburger and I'm gonna have a Cadillac and I'm gonna make sweet love to Mary-Kate Olsen and I'm gonna have a dish of lasagna and I'm gonna have a red convertible and I'm gonna make sweet love to Samantha Tinsdale and I'm gonna have a Denver Omelette and I'm gonna have a Porsche and I'm gonna make sweet love to Anne Hathaway and I'm gonna have a burrito and Guy J. Jackson will go on like that for days, in a continual mental loop, and then he'll stop and write a short story and then he's off again thinking about how fame and fortune will bring hot this and that. It's really craven how it works, the mind of Guy. Though right now he's wondering something entirely different from fame and fortune and from his next story's topic, he's wondering this: 'How many words will it take before the Myspace parameters put a stop to this bio?' But fine enough, Guy's got other things about him that go into bios. For example, he has an obsessive-compulsive disorder for checking his apartment door lock. Don't ever leave Guy J. Jackson's apartment in the company of Guy J. Jackson. You might be leaving and leaving for hours. Speaking of which, how long does this bio thingy go on for? Can you type forever? Can you, for example, type until the sun swallows the Earth? Guy has also worked as a doughnut deliveryman, a newspaper delivery man, a package delivery man, and did all those jobs before he was even a man. He's worked as an office temp, a gardener, a landscaper (similar to being a gardener) a security guard for a gated community (though he was certainly not about to risk his sweet self securing any homes of any gated community types and so always just kept driving that patrol truck, eyes focused on the road ahead, those few dozen times he heard the sounds of breaking glass in the deepest darkest hours of those gated community nights.) Guy also has spent a good two years of his precious time on earth washing dishes in a professional capacity. (But that was really nothing compared to the 12 lost years he spent in public school. Learning Algebra for example. Sure, everyone knows Algebra is utterly useless in the real world, but that fact should be pointed up more often because everyone's always pointing out to Guy how his fantastical stories are utterly useless to the real world and then Guy has to point out how he'll often get asked to tell a story at a party but has never yet been asked to do an Algebra problem. And anyway, Algebra must be used to build bombs to drop on orphanages and that definitely sounds like a useless thing for the good ol' real world.) Guy J. Jackson once even worked in a box office in a theatre for awhile selling tickets to plays such as "Morton & Mary", "Gilded Halls Of Leland", "Time Seen Ticking", "Toddy McManus", "Nora's Second Life", "Gawdy Filthy Grabby", "Cull The Wind Of Rainsongs", and "The Wrong Crank". Guy J. Jackson worked as an English teacher in Prague, and was terrible at that, so the kids of the school all went two weeks without learning much beyond words like 'fried' and 'cheese' and then once Guy thought he could smoke a cigarette in the teacher's lounge since it was his first time in Europe and he was young and it'd seemed like everyone smoked everywhere in Europe and one of the Czech teachers came in and scolded him and that's about the time Guy also got fired from that job. But the job was embarrassing anyhow since Guy had to go teach in the school with pink socks from when he stuck his clothes in the wash with tie-dyed red pajama bottoms he'd bought on the island of Santorini. He was also once a telemarketer for a theatre company, telemarketing plays such as "Gutbusting Billy", "Tie Hands Rubberbands", "Ghost Of A Phantasm", "Mud And The Mind", "False Feelings Under Lies", and "No Time For Kittens", a play which later inspired Guy to write a short story called "No Time For Kittens", a story which contains loads of profanity. Once Guy was at the Tanana Valley Fairgrounds and he'd slipped off on his own as he often did, an only child sort, and he was in the woods and found a bunch of bottles. Guy and his buddy Chad Roberts were at the time in a phase were they'd gather up bottles under the Steese Highway bridge that hurdled the Chena River and they'd spend hours breaking the bottles with rocks. So Guy, on his own in the woods behind the Tanana Valley Fairgrounds, got a bunch of bottles and started in on breaking them. And some fella came along and yelled at Guy until Guy ran off crying. That was one childhood trauma then, certainly not one as bad as it could've been, but it did forever cause Guy to feel a vague sense of guilt whenever he smashed bottles, which was and has pretty much been any time he saw or sees them since. Then here's a worse trauma. Once Guy ran into this one short kid on the playground when Guy was finishing rolling a giant snowball after a fresh snowfall. And for some reason there was an altercation over the giant snowball. Perhaps the short kid wanted the giant snowball for the base of a snowman and Guy only wanted it to stay a giant snowball existing as itself. Or vice versa. Whatever the case, Guy's buddy Jason was there, and Jason said to be careful of the short kid because he was tougher than he looked. Guy ignored Jason and got into a short fight with the short kid. It took only a minute before Guy was on the ground and getting his face stuffed full of the same snow he'd just been defending, which is probably one of the reasons Guy often questions the very existence of war. Then another trauma was once when this bully whose last name was McElhennon but his first name is now lost in mists of memory, but anyway this bully was chasing Guy out of the school, and Guy ran around the corner of the building (this was at Nordale Elementary again) and this girl was walking in the opposite direction swinging her metal lunchbox and Guy wound up in the hospital with a concussion. So there he was with both a head trauma and a life trauma. Okay, sounds like Guy's WEAK and he is but who isn't in the end? At least he admits it. Come on, you might as well admit it too: someday, maybe not today, but someday you'll be weak, weak, weak. So but not always being weak, and sometimes achieving victories, victory-wise, in sixth grade Guy won in a raffle contest a jar full of Halloween candy corns at the Nordale Elementary Halloween party Nordale had to have because that was the year everybody's evil out-of-work uncles were putting razor blades in the Halloween candy you'd get going door-to-door. Then there was the time in seventh grade when Guy kicked ass on homework and got an A in his first quarter of Math even though he has always and will always despise math, especially the ever-so-useless Algebra. In the second quarter of seventh grade Guy adjusted his math grade to a C, and then dropped to a steady diet of Ds for the remainder of that particular game of grab-ass. Math is really utterly useless. Name one use for math. If you, Reader, can name one use for math then you must be some kind of math nerd, because there are no uses for math, except for unlikable uses like counting money and subtracting taxes and building missiles and that's crap. Like math is crap in and of itself, numbers are crap, it is WORDS that make the world tick, gorgeous, elegant, shifting, blurring words. WORDS MOFO WORDS!!! And then there was the victorious time Guy decimated the grasshopper population behind his Uncle's house in Oregon, gathering grasshoppers in a bottle and then sticking them into either the freezer or the fan. That Uncle wasn't an evil or out-of-work uncle though, as mentioned just a bit ago, that was a cool Uncle, cool with a capital U.
I was wondering if you haven't already - would you look at my website, launched just over a month ago and let me know what you think. The link is www. novel-storm. com. If you would would register then even better - it takes seconds and is totally free. Better still if you would submit some material or read and comment in the forum.
