In my head I have written at least a dozen posts during this lockdown hell. Words never made it to the screen. Days flooded with trillions of chores, urgent needs, giving, preparing, tidying, cleaning, holding, reassuring, videocalling, crying, working, crying, texting, organising, surviving, medicating, providing, pretending, entertaining, worrying, crying, clinging on. Nothing much has changed. … Continue reading Locked-on
À bientôt, Kabaret.
I went to get kicked in the heart again. I was prepared this time, though. And yet, I felt it all the same. I just had the chance to appreciate more fully the pauses and the crescendos and the half breaths at each punch. I saw the touring production of Cabaret the musical for the … Continue reading À bientôt, Kabaret.
Wanting to make and to become
I picked the dance workshop. Some voice inside my head suddenly went “oh, for god’s sake, challenge yourself for a change!”. And before I could take it all back, an actual voice outside my head confirmed: “that's booked, 2pm on level 4”. I got to the conference late, of course. Drop the children off to … Continue reading Wanting to make and to become
“And I am you and what I see is me”
(Pink Floyd - Echoes) It's weird how I can talk about my mental health (or lack thereof) with relative ease whilst writing about bras suddenly feels personal and awkward. But I continue to be amazed by how one thing connects to another and so you might have to hear about bras, however uncomfortable that makes … Continue reading “And I am you and what I see is me”
Unexpected gifts
Well, last post did not do very well at all. Not that one writes posts for them to do well. But it is nice when they do. I might not write for validation, but I sure as hell love it when I get some. I spent a whole counselling session talking about creativity the other … Continue reading Unexpected gifts
Back, at last!
I have thought long and hard about whether or not I should, or even could, write this. The thing is when one tries to say anything about Tim Minchin, brain goes into Tim-proof mode. As if my writing had to stand up to his personal scrutiny. Which is laughable, really. And paralysing. So, screw it, … Continue reading Back, at last!
Ontologies
Sometimes you really feel like throwing everything in the bin. The silly tailor-made cookie cutters, the sketching pencils, the instagram account, the writing pad, the training mats. You put little pegs in this vertical rock face you find yourself climbing with great effort. Tiny little anchors of connection and good will that you use to … Continue reading Ontologies
“Felicia, where the f*ck are we?”
I have been waiting to write this for about a month. My less-than-competent theatre reviews are the posts I have the most fun with. So, when I went to see a preview of the stage version of Priscilla Queen of the desert a month ago, I knew I had to see it again before I … Continue reading “Felicia, where the f*ck are we?”
Degrees of impossible
I did a number of things this summer which really felt impossible. They mostly had to do with being a solomama. They had to do with finding responsibility overwhelming and practical management of life with really full-on little people totally out of my -rather good, actually- coping skills. A couple of weeks ago, in a … Continue reading Degrees of impossible
Sempre libera
Felicia stands on top of Priscilla, the queen bus sailing through the desert. A silver frock and eyelashes to die for. Violetta sings through her and the back of my neck tingles. I become the walls of the Orchard theatre, the red rocks of the Australian outback, the dust under the blue sky. I am … Continue reading Sempre libera
