Day 459: Open Your Mouth

It’s been too long again. In the interim, I had the pleasure of Catherine Chapman, at a meeting fitted in before rushing off down to Brighton. I was all excited about that and it was so good to see her. Aaah, good yoga people. Very good yoga people.

I realise I’ve got a bit fat since I came back from Montreal. Not proper fat, but I’ve definitely put on weight. Time to take it off again, I think, mainly because it was off because I was eating better, more regularly and less, and that made me feel good. There have been days recently where everything I’ve eaten in a day has contained sugar or chemicals (or both). It’s not good, is it. It’s time I felt better again.

See, the joy of blogging daily is that all the small things are still fresh. It’s not the momentous things that bring me the most joy, but the insignificant little trifles (and the people, of course). Many of those seem to have disappeared, as I scrabble around in my mind to find the things I want to say. So some of the bigger ones, then…

On Monday, I did a show with the Alphabetties, the first show I’ve done in this country for ages, and a really pleasing one. It had so much stacked against it and perhaps because of that, it was a delight. We were at Upshot. Headlining, and going first, were Dylan Emery and Ruth Bratt, Showstoppers both, very lovely, massively fucking talented improvisers and people I have a little bit of warm awe about. Dylan is always friendly and delightful when I see him; I don’t really know Ruth. They were so good to watch. It’s good to watch what they teach embodied and to see that they’re flexible, playful, embracey of ‘mistakes’ and sharp as little secretive kitchen drawer knives that will lurk behind a vegetable peeler and slice off your whole fingerprint without you even noticing. I mean that in a good way. They pick up and play.

a gob

Knowing myself, the fact that they were playing (and stayed all night – how nice of them) would normally send me into a frenzy of ‘I’m not a good enough improviser’ blah blah blah, boring shit, the result of which is often a shoddy, thinky, semi-paralysed show. However, last night, by the time we went on, I felt quite relaxed. I didn’t feel like going on – I could happily have sat – but I’m so glad I did. I didn’t do the show of my life, but it felt like it could be a turning point show nevertheless. For the first time in ages and ages, on stage, I had so much fun. Just playing. We did all sorts of things that you’re not ‘supposed’ to do, but we played well together. We were listeny and loose and we had a good time. I’m not saying this in itself should be the only ambition for performing, but it’s a great attitude to take into improvisation and I’ve been missing it for a while.

And I got a taste of being back on stage and really playing. It’s been far too long. Some of the malaise I’ve been feeling is to do with not doing enough of what I love and I do totally love performing and now I want to do more and more. Please.

And on Sunday, courtesy of Heather and Joe of The Maydays, I spent an hour in a darkened room while the sun blazed outside, singing and making general noises with a load of people I hadn't really met before. I LOVED it. Just loved it. It was entirely what I needed and it was very pleasing, being able to sing and use my voice without any self-consciousness, in the dark and as a massive experiment. There really is no wrong. Yes please thank you. This is how things can be and I'm very, very happy about it.