I have just been invited to join catbloggers!
"A small group of us have started a new site called Cat Bloggers. Our intent is to bring Cat bloggers closer together, and make a positive contribution to the Internet community.
Would you be interested in joining Cat Bloggers?
We look forward to hearing from you and seeing you on Cat Bloggers."
Good grief.
What has happened to my life?
There was a thing that I was going to ask you all. I thought of it on the bus.
"Yes!" I thought. "What a lovely thing to ask all my nice readers!" Then I settled back into listening to Nick Cave.
I have forgotten the thing.
I am foolish.
So, instead I am going to ask, is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything at all?
I will tell you that yesterday I had my first panic attack for, well, some months, and I dribbled. I have had many and varied panic attacks before, but I have never dribbled. It was intriguing.
Today I have mostly been panicking.
SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK!
As I mentioned here I have to find a great deal of money to put on the plays that I have not yet decided whether to publicise on this blog.
It is horrid.
Do not work in theatre.
(Unless you are rich).
I was on the bus this morning, as is my wont. I was thoroughly engrossed in Corrina Corrina, contemplating that Bob can actually sing when he chooses to, and thinking that it is such a lovely, warm, cosy song, when a man got on.
Dear readers, do not worry, that is not the full extent of the story.
He was a very tall man, with studiedly mussed blonde hair and a handsome, if boyish face.
I was sitting down. He was tall. The bus was crowded, and so it was only moments later that I found my little face (I am a little person) directly opposite the charming tall man's Open Flies.
I looked around. Some school girls who were also small (and still are I should think - it was only this morning) had also caught sight of the zipper casually langushing at the bottom of the zip, and they were laughing. He looked slightly perplexed and moved away.
Oh I didn't know what to do! He was now too far for me to mutter it discreetly to him, and I couldn't mime it in front of the rest of this crowded bus. So I sat there helplessly, my mind unwittingly throwing up all the things he might be on his way to do - a job interview, meeting a Lady for coffee, giving An Important Presentation or, heaven forbid, teaching.
About ten minutes later he unzipped first his zippy coat and then his zippy top underneath and I'm afraid to say I snickered.
Then I carried on listening to Voodoo Child. Am I a bad person?
Back to the usual extremely mundane, grindstone. Sigh.
It's a funny life I lead. Months of wandering from one office in central London to another, wearing business suits (BIGGER SIGH) picking up phones, putting them down again, then all of a sudden I'm exhorting a small group of people in a contained room to slide down a wall with their eyes closed describing their favourite food to the strangely hypnotic melodies of Nick Cave.
And I don't think I will ever get over the terror of putting something you have made in front of real actual people. People who might point and shout obscenities and laugh in a mocking way. Or who might even get up and just plain walk out. I want to eat my own arms at the thought.
Thankfully nobody did any of those things last night. Instead they laughed in a "how terribly funny and delightful" way. That was nice.
But, feedback forms. Do you know about these? They have started springing up at the end of shows over the past five years or so (maybe longer, but I've only been doing it five years). They are like little questionnaires that the audience fill in at the end. "Which bit did you like best?" "Which bit didn't quite work? "Which of the actors would you most like to snog?" That sort of thing.
They're ridiculous.
But for stupid and annoying funding reasons you have to do them. And when you read them they are always entirely polarised, completely different and nothing like anything any normal human beings say. Feedback forms. Utterly useless in every way.
Grr.
(A selection of useless feedback may follow. That was a warning.)
PS. HOORAY! I have discovered some Truth! You can discover it too here. I feel more at peace with my wibbly-wobbly existence now. And I might even enjoy the bastard business suits. (I shall certainly chuckle quietly in the knowledge that they cost me £7.99 from a Clapham charity shop. Ha ha! Take that capitalist flunkeys!)
I can only apologise.
In my non-interweb based life (I know. Extraordinary.) I work in the theatre.
Don't hate me.
And at the moment I am in rehearsal developing a new piece. It is exhausting and a bit all encompassing and stuff. Which is why I'm not currently funny or entertaining or even interesting.
But I will be again. I promise.
I can smell smoke. Must be my creativity frazzling.
