Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Like so many Jane Austen characters before me...

This weekend I will be visiting Bath to perform "Like You Were Before". This is the first date on a tour of the show I'm doing over the next few months in the UK. Watch this space for the super exciting other dates - I will let y'all know as soon as they are confirmed.

The Guardian had some very kind words to say about how you should come see it in Bath - click here to be convinced.

This is very much starting to feel like the little tour date that could, with a few slight obstacles which have so far stood in the way. First I discovered that the charger for my north american video camera that they don't make anymore had gone missing, which meant the video my entire show is based off of was trapped, which meant that I was seriously rue-ing the day I ever chose to base an entire show around technology. The lovely Ruby Jones came over and fixed that one for me by suggesting I plug into the charger for her camera. This was after I'd become panicked enough that such a simple solution seemed nigh-on impossible.

Then the televisions for my show seemed altogether way too expensive to get to Bath, but the lovely Lisa Heledd-Jones fixed this problem for me by volunteering some sets, so I had to just quit my whining. The show was nearly on the road.

THEN I woke up this morning and had lost my voice. I have some kind of throat infection. But a quick call to the NHS direct line also gave me the good advice to make my voice come back and hopefully stick. So Mighty Ducks style, the hockey game must go on. Giving you all the more incentive if you are in or near Bath to be present for the triumphant moment that I walk out on stage and do my best. I'd love to see you in the crowd while I'm doing that. We'll wave hello. And you can book your tickets by clicking here.

For one last piece of newsy news- my official professional-like website is up and running now. Check out the link under my blogroll. Any feedback is welcome. But don't hate on the napkin. I really like the napkin.

Saturday, 15 January 2011

My day in details

Friday, 14 January 2011

Did You Read?

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Digital Love

I took this! And then I made it way better with my computer.

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Until We Say Yes

As some of you know, I was just in Canada working on the text for the brilliant Volcano's new piece "Until We Say Yes" about Pearson International Airport. I thought as a wee taster of fun to come, I would include a little excerpt from the piece. This section is called "The Wisdom of the Dead." And in case you're legal-curious, it is written by me, and property of Volcano.

The Wisdom of the Dead

After life is over, there is very much organizing to do. Everyone has their own room full of shelving units with very much to put in order. Once completed, these rooms make up a library browsed by the fates. You are given many of your own things to order – interesting and not so interesting - a list of all of the nice and horrible things that people said about you behind your back, with those that are true in bold. Many movies of every time you appeared in someone else’s dream, which are always beautiful and surprising to watch. A copy of every photo you have ever been caught in, and a copy of every record you have ever appeared in, on cctv, in market research phone calls, on tape, in home movies, on the internet. Every piece of paper you have ever written on, every time you have signed your name, every email, every text, every possible trace of the fact that you were once alive is stored here. Apparently, organizing this used to take one month at most, but lately it has begun to take people years.

Right before you start the process, you are referenced into one of two categories, based on a percentage of every time that you said yes or no. I for example am 72.3% yes and 27.7% no. So I am in the first category – those who have over 70% yes – these rooms are always smaller, less full of information, of trace, usually populated by shorter lives. But they are also the only part of the library that anyone considers worth browsing, with very few exceptions.

Friday, 7 January 2011

On the tube

United by these yellow poles. If we let go we fall.

Sallow skin, suspicious glances, the judging up and down, examining each other's shoes (cowboy, sneakers, loafers). This unites us too. Ferried beneath soil, ants on a conveyor belt (although none of us did the digging, or even wonder who did).

They wear suits. Her bag may be Louis Vuitton. Furry Ugg boots. Rising together in a line from their seats, like a class before the national anthem, or the first move of a new dance, they all change here.

We are lonely meteors. Trying not to look at each other. Silent through space.