Rangy Manatee

I suspect my blogs may become more interesting when I am able to write them during the night.  I have real problems forming thoughts, words and ideas when I am sitting in a bare-walled computer cluster in an anonymous university building next to a Chinese (?) man (? - no, he's definitely a man) with a checked shirt, glasses and short hair.  He seems to be playing an online game, and chatting to someone online. I never do those things. I just read emails, essays, reviews of cds, news on the Chortle website and other people's blogs.  The internet is such a big thing and I only do those piddling activities.  I have an internet routine.  It's pathetic.

Rehearsals are going ok now.  Less of our directors breaking down and crying.  Less of the re-writes.  What we are left with now is an almost interesting idea of a plot but the most clumsy and badly scripted piece of theatre one is ever likely to see.  I keep telling myself three things about this.  One, this play is enabling me 24 performances at the Edinburgh Fringe, which can never be a bad thing. Two, it has given me a brilliant excuse for quitting my excuse of a job.  Three, it's only the play that's bad and not the whole month.  And yet one thought is plaguing me as I wake each morning, that somehow being in something quite rubbish is going to spoil the whole experience.  Each day will be filled with at least a few hours of humiliation as we step out into the (I'm actually embarrassed to tell you it's 150 capacity) room and perform this naive, coarse, unoriginal, unresearched, uninsightful and most of all unfunny play to a handful of people - probably most of which will be grimacing friends and genuinely appalled parents.  For the last two years there I have been in (arguably) quality shows which for various reasons pulled in large audiences (we're talking 30-60 a day here).  I seriously doubt we can come close to that this year, with this play. 

But, as people keep saying to me, think positively about this; it'll be fine.  Hmm.