Today it is time to consider my goals for the Fringe. My short-term ambition is to become a viral sensation, as Piers Morgan shouts at me for being snowflake and I stutter about how queer performance is an important aspect of the cultural landscape. From here, I believe that I could achieve my dream: a four-hour YouTube special arguing with Jordan Peterson about the ontology of God. That’ll impres my year ten Latin students.
The first day of the Fringe is always a right laugh. A spot of rain to welcome international guests and late afternoon sun so that I can’t see where I am going. I felt my umbrella was a nice touch, gave me some dignity as I strolled between venues. I variously pretended it was a walking stick (did I mention my eyesight problems?), a samurai sword and a cricket bat. It is also a tribute to Ima Collab’s Lu-Ting the Merman, which used umbrellas as a prop mere months before there was a similar political action in Jong Kong.
There we go, a reference to theatre. See, I used to be quite the big man round here, and Ima Collab still quote me on their flyer for this year’s Candide. I mean, that don’t actually mention my name, but those five stars? They came from my generous rucksack.
Anyway, day one is my traditional patrol of press office. I turn up and stand awkwardly at the door, hoping that someone recognises me. I popped into Assembly and interrupted their preparations for the opening gala, and hung out with the ever-patient Nick at theSpace. My justification is that these are the people who make criticism happen, and it is a lovely annual gift for them to get to hear my anecdotes. Unlike my Latin students, they have usually heard of the names that I drop and are far better at feigning interest. I even got a greeting from a venue boss.
I managed to see a show: Self-Raising by Jenny Sealey, MBE. I appreciated the way that the production deconstructed its own elements, describing the projections (which I did struggle to see clearly). So my intellectual self was satisfied – post-dramatic theatre – and my visual impairment was supported. It about family trauma, which helps until I get my counselling appointments.
Then I did my first in person podcast interview for two years. Most of the time was spent disentangling the cables, which I turned into a parable about the various elements of my life. Editing it later, I found out that one of the microphones has a nasty crackle, so that U sound like I am speaking from the bottom of a crisp packet.
My victim, Ana Mozol, was charming and manages to ignore some horrible showing off. Not only did I lecture her about the mythos/logos dichotomy of fifth century Athens, I cite Richard Schechtner’s speech to the Theatre in Education conference (1992). Imagine turning up in Edinburgh and being confronted by a man who thinks he is a Fringe legend banging on about the Dionysian. Most interviews are content to ask about the inspiration for the work – which, in this case, is archetypes, dreams and a drive to reconnect with the body against the academic insistence on the mind – and ponder why the show is going to appeal to Edinburgh audiences. Masol deserves a Fringe First for not getting back on the plane. Unveiled is doing all three weeks of the Fringe at theSpace.
Oh, and Hannah at Assembly told me that my Facebook pictures make me look like a Men’s Rights Activist. Little does Hannah know that this is a ploy to fool the researchers on Piers Morgan’s show.
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