Saturday, August 06, 2005
10pm in Edinburgh
Writing a bit of this during the third run of our first night at the Fringe. Since the show is 35 minutes long, we run it six to nine times a day -- and it's cheap, too! (5 pounds). Downstairs from us is "jimmy chung's" Chinese food -- a chain, it seems -- and twice already today I've heard their canned versionn of "happy birthday" come booming up through the floorboards during quiet moments of our show. not an auspicious start to our relationship with jimmy. And it's a cheasy player-piano kind of version, ugh.
In other moments of the show, when a huge ambient hum fills the space, I have moments when I think I can hear people talking -- like you get sometimes when you walk past a busy construction site along the street. This time I thought it was a woman in the audience (I can't see them from the operating position) saying, in High Scots, "Oh is this what they mean by 'sexy'?"
It feels great -- really simple and good -- to be running this show again. People usually come out kind-of stoned looking, like they've had a masterful meditation 'done' to them -- which is basically what happens during BREATH[e]. I always want to catch them leaving. Sometimes they sit, 27 of them, together in silence for a full minute or more, after the show is over. And then we get through the day and head off to the Grassmarket to find a pint in a cozy pub. A big fat pint.
The only thing I miss here is having my baby with me.
Well now I'm at Steve's computer,and he's sitting here telling me that our British co-producer, Richard Jordan, is submitting us for a Guiness World record for most performances at the Edinburgh Fringe.
hunh. last show of the night just let out to applause -- don't always get that. JP ran that one -- he threatens to sex the show up with a cameo of his naked bum in one of the quieter moments. He'll take requests to preview the experience if there's any takers, I'm sure.