they speak different

Yes, it’s English, but it’s hard to understand.
They also use different words than we do, so in that way it’s like a different language.
I met a man giving out flyers for a pizza place next door to my venue, and he seemed very interested in my show, but I was more interested in his pizza.
Tomorrow we open my second play Super Earth.
Very excited about that.
Little sad to be leaving my play for a week, but will becoming back to it from the 19th-26th!
I love performing my piece.
I don’t know how to get reviewers to come see it.
It’s as though you need to light yourself on fire.
Or, call your play “Jerk Off.”
Or, “Come See Vagina’s.”
Or, “Crazy Fucking (Live).”
Might have had a reviewer in yesterday, but still no review to be found.
I walked a dog on the beach today.
Her name is Piper.
She’s super sweet, and it makes me miss my dog.
I don’t miss the States at all.
That says something.
Everybody wants to talk about Trump.
Everyone is frightened about Trump.
Everyone thinks Trump will be impeached in a year.
The festival is certainly optimistic.
It’s hard not to be with all this beautiful weather.

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival: Flyering

Standing on a busy street in front of my venue and handing out flyers to people who already have five to six flyers in their hand is one of the most challenging things you can do.
It was easier to both write this play and perform this play.
Having patience to flyer requires a monumental effort.

The audiences have been great—in terms of reaction to the piece.
And good—in terms of butts in seats.
Apparently the average number of audience members in a fringe show is five.
By that account, I’m doing well.

Still no reviews yet, but I’m wondering if that would make a difference at this point. I’ve seen five shows and have not checked if any of them were reviewed: it was just me in the right place at the right time.

It’s important to keep your head up, do your show, and enjoy the scenery. The last being the easiest of them all.

The Edinburgh Fringe 2017: 3 minutes

We performed three minutes of material for critics, fellow artists, and audience members last night.

I wasn’t in love with what I did. Not that it was the manner in which I performed, but because I don’t think it presented the entirety of the show.

I did, however, want to give a taste of what it would be like to be in the audience of my show, and I think that went over abundantly clear.

I met so many people yesterday from the hours of 13:05-14:30.

There is a play about Brexit, a play about gun control, a woman that wore a fetus mask (or sperm, she may have been sperm), a puppet, an interactive online (live) dating show, a bunch of people singing the Book of Mormon (is that legal), a two person Russian string quartet, a children’s show that didn’t care to be a children’s show, two young British men in some sort of dorm-room dramedy, and eight other plays I had to miss because I had to rush off to rehearsal.

The Edinburgh Fringe 2017: Blueswater Presents: The Roots of the Blues

This show was really good.

I was skeptical being from the place where blues began, and watching an Englishman play song after song of music that sprung from life on the plantations of Mississippi—the songs remain the same. They were haunting, beautiful, and at times full of pep.

You could tell that the performer had a real passion for the music, culture, and times. Very enjoyable.


My second show went very well.
Eleven People!
After the show, two audience members say me outside and offered to buy me a beer.
I said “yes” then sat in a park across the street and drank it while eating curry.
Both were good.
Third Bikram class today.
Martin is from Spain. I explained that some of the positions are quite uncomfortable. One particularly when I bend my spine back. He said you need to go to uncomfortable places; that’s how you learn.

The Edinburgh Fringe 2017: Hot Sweat Wet

I almost died in a Bikram class today, but I didn’t.

I was dizzy, shaking, sweating. It was unbelievable. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Bikram is different.

The teacher asked if I had done Bikram before, and I said yes.
But i think I’ve done “hot” yoga.
Where was the downward dog?
Where was the cobra?
Where the fuck was child’s pose?

I almost passed out. I begged her for water, she said “Almost done, love. Suck it up.” We were doing all these standing poses, and the breath came up into my mouth like hot shawarma, which is what I ate yesterday for lunch.

“Would anyone mind if we cracked a window?”

And when everyone looked at me, I pointed the guy next to me

“Looks like he needs it.”

I finally had to stop. I was so weak and dizzy. I couldn’t do child’s pose. A child’s pose… was too difficult for me.

There were mirrors in front of us. Long. Large Mirrors!
My face was so red.
It was redder than anyone else’s.
And I Was in Scotland! Right? Someone HAS to have a redder face than me (but no one did.)

I laid there dead. Pathetic. Weak. unable to get a clear breath.

“Elan! Lock your knees.”
“Elan! Keep your elbows in.”
“Elan! Squeeze your butt.”

I lay there.
God, wouldn’t someone just crack a window.
And finally…

She brought me water.
And after class a woman told me to take my clothes off.
“I was sure you were gonna strip naked? You came in with a long sleeve shirt!”
(It’s cold in Scotland.)

Two week unlimited pass… Purchased.