I’m back in the garden in the woods. The last of the light is fading. Bats’ll be out soon. For now it’s the birds calling in the night, and a few moths and mossies. The cats were pleased to see me. It’s 9pm and I was out at 10 this morning to drive to London. Just got back.
Parked up in Sloane Square as it’s free with my permit. Got the tube in to Waterloo and onto The Cut. Went to the barbers and had a wet shave at Making the Cut. He was particularly thorough this time and cut the head off two of my moles. Still they won’t be bleeding in the morning and that’s when I’m doing two tapes and why I had to lose the beard.
I drove to London to catch a workshop showing of a new musical that Lou made some costumes for. The designer collaborates with Lou frequently – I met her through him. It’s a major producer and it has the bones of what will undoubtedly be a big show in a year or so, either here or on Broadway. Today it was just an audience test to industry audience on the Young Vic stage which, even opened out is quite small for what they are making. I can already imagine how it will be with all guns blazing. It’s already very strong. I think it might be under wraps and I’m used to erring on the side of vague, but it’s a story I remember from early adulthood, and now is an excellent time for it to be retold. I really hope it flies. Amazing to see an R&D with such a budget. This is what is possible at the top of the industry.
Tomorrow morning I’ll be up early and then tomorrow is just gonna be about taping myself really. An advert, which should be fire and forget but THE MONEY THE MONEY. And a Shakespeare on stage. I’ve never taped for a Shakespeare on stage before. It will feel very unusual without other people, but here I am in the woods so I’ve had to ask Scott to record the other lines for me.
Pink clouds in the sky and there’s an owl going mad behind me. It is incredibly peaceful here. Last night my dreams were so clear. The dark is darker, the quiet is only broken by nature until the morning when the walkers come by the window with their dogs. Owls and songbirds. The movement of trees. Two happy cats. A buzz near your ear. The distant sound of something vast unfurling in the dark wood. The murmurs in the air on the edge of comprehension promising power. The screams of the unworthy. Crickets. Wings. Sonar.
A tiny reminder of how insignificant we are in space and time.
That owl is still making loads of noise. I think it might be horny.
AlBarclay 