I crashed hard yesterday. I should have expected it I guess, it’s something that I literally always do. A big project comes to an end and then immediately, consciously I feel like shit, it’s just the way of it innit. Our theatre company will be producing something before too long, I know it. As it stands I’ve actually got an audition lined up for Monday, who knows I guess, I was planning on delaying my return to the stage until I’d dealt with the trans thing but… Not doing it is literally killing me.
I don’t know how to, I’m at two weeks now until it hits the two year anniversary of my being recommended to a gender identity clinic. I don’t want to seem desperate and unhinged so I ain’t actually been calling them. I can’t explain how paranoid it makes ya. If you don’t confirm and attend your first appointment you’re pushed back on the list. ‘Clearly, over the fucking age it took they changed their mind.’
I don’t even know how they’s going to inform me, I be checking my post, emails, messages, texts like some mad cat terrified that I gonna be the one who don’t get that message. When it happens I’m gonna have to arrange an impromptu three hour trip to Exeter. Y’all know there be an estimate of something like 20,000 of us over the country and only 7 clinics to support us.
Our healthcare be for your benefit. everyone be terrified that somebody start taking hormones and realise that they be making a terrible mistake. Cos all they able to conceptualise is their own horror in a body that evolving into something alien, just without the empathy to make the association. The government could change this if literally any of them cared. I’ve considered a political future, but who would elect this monstrosity, it’s a dream anyways.
Whatever, I wake up early Saturday morning, after the evening of our final performance, and the gender hurts and I read utopian trans fiction for a few hours and play video games and listen to podcasts and try to feel alright. I don’t know how to on my own.
Our play was well received, it feels aggravating that we’re trying to put out this work and it, over and over hits a brick wall. That’s the curse of theatre though innit? For what it gains in immediacy and physicality is paid int he rental costs of a performance space and the temporal cost of asking folks to be in a specific place for a good three hours.
I am immensely blessed to be in the acquaintance of amazing actors. I am still finding myself as a director, especially within our company’s workflow. As an actor I so often feel bound to the text, I will deep dive and analyse, the concept of a character comes to me as a fiction. An idea that the actor must construct in order to realise the writing in human form.
Everything must stem from the need and immediacy of the piece. Sense is not constructed linearly, it is derived from nothing less than the entire shape of the finished work. Yet our company’s work is found literally within its own creation. It flows from the characters, from the way the actors embody them. I felt, and admittedly probably was, so inadequate at the start of our rehearsal process. I ain’t there yet, but have made steps towards it.
Being in the tech cupboard though were unbearable. I got a staticy live feed from the stage and an obstructed view of the performers. It ain’t the way you wanna see anything. the first night I were so panicked there weren’t a single audio cue that I didn’t fuck up. Later nights were more bearable but I were still to involved.
You gotta all of a sudden, after being concerned with the emotive and emotive and human truth of the performers, switch to being the impartial provider of light and noise. Most of the time I spent on the floor hugging my knees up against me waiting for my cues, listening keenly for any reaction from the audience. I’ve no idea how my co-director managed to sit amongst them.
I re/watched a few more films in the evenings afforded to me over the past couple’a weeks. Check them out on my Letterboxd
I don’t know what else I got. Nothing probably. And after a week off I gotta be working 40 hours again. I can’t cope with it.