Bedtime. Today I was essentially an office person, but working from home. It’ll be the same tomorrow. This whole business with zooming around all over the place has been time consuming and expensive and fun. It has left me needing to recover funds.
I’ve got an old commitment that I now need to show up for. I’m playing catch-up by making it my job. Just one day of it and I can see why the office lot think of their evening as being this sacred space. I didn’t want to do anything.
This has been a powerful journey for me, down and up again. A strong yo-yo. All the way down to Binissalem, and then slowly puddleducking back up with Tristan. A job but a holiday. A chance to catch up with family.
Sending a theatre audition for Tristan from the tiny village of Néré was a game changer. First round and now they are okay with a tape. It makes the world possible for actors in a way it hasn’t been for decades. Holidays were horrible risks beforehand. “What if there’s a casting?” Now, so long as there’s internet, I can be in the arse end of nowhere. If they want me for a recall, that’s a more realistic pitch and worth the plane fare. First round they might see hundreds. Now with self tapes they might, of course, see thousands and never even watch the tape you send. But fuck it, at least you aren’t sitting next to the phone anymore. A recall is still a recall. So long as it isn’t on zoom like the shite I had to do in lockdown where nobody knows what anyone else can see.
More office work tomorrow. Tonight I’m done. I’m finally home. My bed. My home. At last. I am frequently nomadic, but this feeling of home is real. I can shift it easily. But I know I feel relaxed right now in a way you can’t feel in all these pimped up rooms. This is my random gubbins. These are my sheets. mmmmm zzzzzz
AlBarclay 