On the Road

Finally I'm on my way. My last couple of weeks were intense and emotional. I attempted to resolve a couple of thinks that were nagging on my conscience. One worked, the other didn't. Perhaps it was stupid to think think understanding could be gained without the useful (possibly essential) element of time. So in my last week I was shattered, heartbroken and depressed. I just wanted to leave. I got myself into a situation of accepting (and enjoying despite unacknowledged sacrifices) being a low prioty and a secret. On my last day I found a shallow surface peace that I am content to leave with.

After an incredibly smooth and enjoyable performance spot opening for the Dresden Dolls* at the Spegeltent** where Missy*** and I complemented a trapeeze artist with our double fandance**** we set off for Glasgow. Half way there I ran out of phone credit (I had my sim card in Missy's phone) so we stopped at a service station to pick up more. No wallet. Shit. Called the event organizers and a friend Paul***** who is one of those magic kinds of people who even if he wasn't known at the venue still would have been able to get backstage and find it. He found it. Back to Edinburgh picked it up. Back on the road

*www.dresdendolls.com
**www.spiegeltent.net
***www.missymalone.co.uk
****www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SRHqRsNKCQ
*****www.paulzenon.com

Fifteen long hours involving much waiting in queues, many stressed out people, being fast tracked through security, running shoes in one hand belt in other through Stansted we arrived in beautiful Ancona, Italy.

Despite technical problems the gig was lovely. The rockabilly audience receptive, and attention astounding (photoshoots, magazine interviews, newspaper coverage, television interview etc). My favorite was having our very own bodyguard. A massive man who would sutblely stand near us where ever we went (like outside the toilets) if anyone got too close he would move in, and if they tried anything he would remove them from our presence. I asked him if he wanted to come to Africa with me (he smiled and acknowleged me in a reserved bodyguard styled way without responding).

So that was my last burlesque gig. Never say never, but I don't see myself returning to it. I'm sure by the time I return to the developed world there will be something else. Some other obscure occupation to try. When we got back to the hotel I cut my hair into a rough bob. Missy averted her eyes. We have formed an amazing and strong friendship through burlesque. She is the best burlesque artist I know (on both sides of the stage door). It was hard to leave her. Probably harder for her though, it is always worse for the one left behind.

I'm typing this in an internet cafe in Venice after writing it on a scrap of paper on the train, the train smelt of burning synthetics and wee yet all the place names made me hungry (yum... Bologna). I made the decision to go to Venice before Milan at the train station yesterday. I made the decision to stay two nights when I found a hostel last night. I have not yet made the decision of what I'm doing this afternoon. I don't have a phone, or keys, but I make up for it with a small collection of wallets hidden about my belongings. I feel free.