It is 21 days since the 2015 Edinburgh Fringe ended. It's been 17 days since I left the Scottish beef farm yurt. The following was written in the middle of my first Edinburgh Fringe experience.
It
is 11 days since I arrived in Edinburgh. I think it's been a week
since I've been performing here. I'm not positive about things like
"time" or "days of the week."
Pretty
much every day is show day. Often, there's another 10 min. performance
or thing I've got to do. I'm getting into costume at least once a
day, usually twice. I'm lugging my backpack and corpse-sack around
town, cautiously navigating century-old cobblestones that like to
play games with the concept of Level. I'm icing my left heel at
night. I am getting almost the amount of sleep that I need; or maybe
I need less sleep, somehow. I wake up without the alarm, heart
already beating faster than usual.
I
don't always understand what Scottish taxi drivers say to me, even
when they're being super friendly and polite.
I
am not flyering as much as I should. I should be out flyering for a
few hours a day. If I were doing that, I would probably have bigger
houses. I am generally satisfied with the size of my houses... and
the day after I wrote that last sentence, I actually had too many
people. And I didn't flyer at all. So who knows.
At
other festivals I've been to, I have been alone and I've made many
great new friends. At this festival, I am sharing a flat with good
friends, and that means most of my socializing is done at home,
cozy-like, and not necessarily out meeting people. I do not think the
festival is so warm and friend-making at this stage in the game,
though, so I definitely think I played this one right. I hear that in
a week or so everyone will chill out and start making friends. But
right now we all have our heads so far up our own asses that it's
hard to see the possible new friends surrounding us at all times.
Flyers
are everywhere. They collect in the streets, wedging their way into
cobblestones, trodden upon by passers-by. They are the
graphic-designed dreams of thousands, lovingly constructed to present
hopeful souls and their art projects, hocking the experience
theatregoers are sure to have if they follow that flyer to its
intended destination.
Sometimes
at my show people arrive with their flyers in their hand, and I have
the feeling that these flyers are homing pigeons, safe at last.
I
am doing okay emotionally, thanks for asking. But I don't recommend
this festival to anyone who hasn't had loads of therapy or is armed
with mood stabilizers. It's just too damn big, and there is no way to
not feel like a lil' ol' drop in the bottomless well of needy actors.
Or maybe there is a way, but I've got a pretty unique show and a
fantastic publicist, and I still feel pretty goddamn small. So don't
ask me what the way is.
I
get excited to do my show about 3 minutes before I start. Before
that, I am tired. But the show itself remains fun, most of the time.
Sometimes there are moments in my show when I'm checking in with
myself wondering, am I in this moment enough? And then I can get back
into it, usually deeper than before. But my energy does need careful
watching, because it's hard to keep a big boner for a show you've
done daily for almost 2 weeks now, and will be doing for another 2
weeks.
I
think I will crawl in bed pretty soon. I have no internet at my flat,
and that sucks, frankly. I have "Pitch Perfect" on my
computer, but I've watched it too many times, I think. I just can't
justify watching it again. And what else do I have? "Back To The
Future" (seen it too much) and a copy of one of my shows from
Winnipeg. NO THANKS. I think I'll be going to bed and just breathing.
... stay tuned for post-month-recovery reflections! thank you for reading!!
