After the deluge…
My head still brims with idea’s, for solo shows, for impro fun, and just to challenge the norm. Not to be subversive, not to challenge by pushing the wrong boundaries, but to push things differently. I don’t want to upset, anger, or ridicule, I want to challenge perspectives.
So many people are out to make this big bang by being controversial. What’s more controversial than changing perspective though? By giving people a look into a head space that they wouldn’t usually see (maybe even help to get some perspective in their own head space).
But I’m feeling kind of blank, and relived that I’ve given myself a break, and admitted that I couldn’t do it.
I’ve postponed my baby, so I can make it bigger and better than before. More players, bigger story lines, and more room to move physically and mentally. I want to keep the audience involved while keeping them at arms length, so they won’t know what is going to happen next. For them to be salivating at every twist and turn. It’s all about them. I’ve spent too many gigs thinking about dozing off in boredom, to watch someone on stage mindlessly wank on about themselves, and not realise that the reason we are there, is because we WANT you to take us on a journey. PLEASE take us with you, don’t leave us wondering why we gave up a night in our nice warm home, watching TV or movies we know we will get enjoyment out of.
I want you to feel electricity as soon as you walk into the room, to know you’re being taken somewhere else, for your stomach to do flips in excitement. I want even the hardest of critics to soften ever so slightly at the sight (the feel, even the smell), to realise that we’re not there to bang on about nothing in particular, we’re here to serve you. To connect and disconnect at will, so you’re longing to connect again, to help with the next turn in events, then for you to sit precariously onthe edge of you’re seat while we weave the story a little more, and to leave you with more questions than you came with….
…and waking up from a 3 week daze…
…what a mental 3 weeks.
I’ve had a fantastic 3 weeks, Tripod 8 times in 3 weeks (why? You ask. You tell me and we’ll both know, because I’m not really sure), seeing Justin Hamilton doing the coda to his 3 Colours Hammo Trilogy, meeting Tony Martin(making an arse of myself), and seeing Children Collide, I’d say its been the most amazing 3 weeks.
I’ve spent more time in Fitzroy than I have in a long time, I miss it as soon as I cross Alexandra Parade into Clifton Hill. I can’t explain my love for this little web of existence in the North of Melbourne.
I walked down Bell street the other week, after one of my many nights at Trades Hall, and ached at the thought that I wasn’t walking into one of those houses to go home. I hate leaving the place, I feel at peace while I’m there.
It’s one of the only places on this planet that I feel so calm in. Even when there’s people there I hate, and I don’t think deserve to live within its warm loving arms. Do they know why this place is so special? Do they understand that it’s not the “cool” factor of Fitzroy, it’s not being seen in the right places(I’m going to be crucified, I’ve tried to love Mario’s, but I can’t, I’d rather be in the Marqis of Lorne. Maybe someone can recommend something nice from Mario’s for me to try? I might change my mind.), it’s just home, the smells, the sights, the sounds… I’ve never felt more at home than I do there. There’s nothing I’d change about the place, even though it’s changed so very much over the years.
I can’t wait to move into my own place there. Hoping that by some kind of miraculous miracle that I find somewhere I can affrord without living below the poverty line! There’s nothing like walking the streets of Fitzroy as the sun is setting or rising. There’s nothing like a beautiful Fitzroy afternoon, wandering down Brunswick Street the warmth of the sun warming my tired winter bones. Great food, great friends, the sounds of good music coming from houses, the sounds of people having parties/BBQ’s/Dinner Parties, and just happiness in general.
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