One day to go and the paranoia, fear and depression are already pushing at the corners of my mind. A very slight sense of nausea is with me everywhere I go. I have a lot still to do - work out the beginning and end of my stand up show, consider the format of the podcast show plus I have to write a Richard Herring's Objective in the next ten days, but I made little progress with any of these. And I did a mediocre ten minute set at a club tonight, the first gig for a while that totally failed to catch fire.
I had woken up too early and after my four beers yesterday was a tiny bit hungover. Last year, as you may remember, I got through the whole Fringe (and another five and a half months) without drinking. Whilst I am keen to be more sociable this year, it's interesting how much of an undermining effect that one evening of only a bit more than moderate drinking proved to be. Not only had it disturbed my sleep so I was tired all day - I actually fell asleep on the sofa whilst trying to work on the show at about 8pm - but thinking about it, the depressive of alcohol might have had some responsibility for the slight displacement I was experiencing. I wonder if you removed all stimulants from the Fringe whether it would have a positive or negative effect on the performers. The paranoia and jockeying for position and jealousy and subtle and less subtle undermining from other acts would surely still be here, but might they be tempered somewhat by the sobriety? Unless Sharia Law comes into force in Edinburgh (and the existing laws against drugs don't seem to stop people taking them, so it might not make any difference) I don't think we'll ever get the chance to find out.
Don't worry, I am still very much on top of things at the moment - today was just like a mouse taking a tentative nibble at a piece of cheese in one corner of the Babybel warehouse. But the fear is that at some point in the next three and a half weeks he will return with a pack of demon rodents and devour my cheesy sanity in seconds. And then come back and mug me of all my money.
Ah Edinburgh!
The point is that I think that for the sake of my mental balance and to get what I have to get done it might be an idea to lay off the sauce (also annoyingly tonight I discovered that I can't really fit into most of the trousers I have brought up with me).
After yesterday where things ended up going my way and I felt like a king, today was a bit more frustrating generally. Not only did my work not go as planned, but when I tried to go swimming I was told that the pool was shut as the offices above had leaking pipes which were dripping into the water. I then tried to pay in the SCOPE money I had collected in Newcastle (collections from the previews alone have raised very nearly £4000), the coin machine in the NatWest was not playing ball and the all too familiar sound of over a hundred pounds in coins came crashing down into the rejected coin section. I waited for 25 minutes in the hope that it might get fixed, but it remained broken. I will be here most days trying to do this and so, I imagine, will a few dozen buskers, so this is not a very good sign.
With contaminated pools and broken machines it felt that maybe Edinburgh itself is held together with string and as liable to collapse as the sanity and the puffed up egos of the performers, all steeling themselves for what is to come. Reputations and dreams will be made and broken. On the day before the Fringe flight seems like a good option, even if I know I will stay and fight my way through.
And it's not uncommon to let the enormity of what is to come weigh down on you - almost four years ago to the day
I was considering throwing myself off South Bridge (or at least not coming back to the Fringe again) after another disappointing pre-Fringe gig. You've been through seven of these with me now if you're read this thing from the start. So you know how it goes. If you can't be bothered to wait to find out how things will turn out, just go and read any of the previous August's entries. Nothing changes and we never learn.
Translate that into Latin and you've got a good Fringe motto.
