Rest

Normally the show would still be on. I’m in bed dressed as Bugs Bunny and I’m not expecting to be visited by any spirits. I’ve been trying to sort out marketing for the next venture, but it’s slow going. I said to my business partner who has been taking the bulk of the hits “I’m sorry, I’m really not very good at thinking fully about multiple things at once.” Her response: “It’s because you have a … a Y chromosome.” Charming.

Today I got my costume fixed (I hope) and we cleaned up and sorted things out. One more full week in Sheffield and then York. We had a telephone interview with the lovely Charles Hutchinson who has been writing about my work for years. He already knows what he’s going to write, so it was more just a formality, but it still felt important to represent the show properly. Last time he tried to make out like there was a rivalry between myself and John who was playing Marley. There wasn’t. He just wanted a hook. He’s a good fellow but he’s an old salt and set in his ways. He’ll write what he was going to write anyway and hopefully it’ll be pleasant. No reason for it not to be. But you never can tell with writers, the writer says artlessly.

Jack and I had time to go to the Christmas market in York, and we waded through the overpriced beers and sausages to a tent that was definitely the artists bar at Latitude Festival repurposed as a viking mead hall. We immediately wanted to find out if it’s sleeping in March or if we can use it as a venue to make stories. There are so many things I want to make now that they are practically exploding out of me. I’m gonna break down the things that I use to block me. Like software…

Despite framing myself as being shit at all of this eventotron guff, practice makes perfect and if I’m going to be driving my own projects in the real world going forward then I need to be better at the things that happen under the table. I’m clever at the solving and I’m totally unruffled by pressure but I’ll need to get sharper at the stuff I instinctively downgrade to “guff” or “bullshit” as unfortunately it’s bullshit and guff that sells tickets. My mission of the year this coming year is to make peace with and gain control over “guff”. I’m going to learn its true name. I’m going to get control of it and make it work in my favour. I will become the guffomancer. The bullshaper. The wankmancer. My bullshit brings all the boys to the yard.

Meanwhile it’s an early bed and tomorrow to York to work out what the fuck if anything we can do in this sacred space in Mansion House. It’s just been refurbished. We’d be lucky to do anything really. If they let us have a little bit of haze I’ll be happy. We will find out tomorrow.

Oh! And I successfully persuaded Amazon to take the cockawful ads off my shiny new Kindle without me having to pay. They were brilliant about it, but to be frank I’d have abandoned the whole new Kindle experiment if they hadn’t been. Still it felt like a victory. I went in a mission and accomplished it… Here’s Jack and I enjoying York…

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Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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