A Slow Recovery

It's now exactly four weeks since Faustarse (there I said it!) and I'm still recovering from the trauma of it all. It may sound trite to use that word (and I don't use it lightly) but it was such a bizarre intense experience that I feel as though I'm coming out from under a spell, or a spell in a cult or something! I have reached the perhaps rather obvious conclusion that it is just not worth it.  It may be an actorly clichéd thing to say, but "I just can't work under these conditions"! Sandra, who played the lead female in the previous play Dickie directed said it took her three months to fully recover, so it might be a long haul. That play was also a dark subject, this time regarding mental health and the experience was on a par bonkers-wise, although my involvement was less. I didn't write about it at the time, but I do now feel an entry may be forthcoming...


Anyways... this 'ere entry is about my procrastination, as denoted by the red type, so any specific talk about acting stuff is irrelevant, except as an explanation as to why I feel like such a useless lump at present. 


I may be being harsh on myself but I feel as though I've gone completely backwards and have felt rather lost-at-sea in terms of routines, sleep patterns and goal setting. Sleep specifically has eluded me night after night and then of course it sets me up to fail the next day because I'm so bloody cream-crackered. It's impacting on Johan too, who understandably gets most upset at my tossing and turning and prodding him for his snoring. That guy can snore for England - quite an achievement considering he's foreign! Therefore I have decided that this is the thing I have to tackle if the other things have a hope of falling into place. As of tomorrow I am going on a 'sleep hygiene' programme. This will entail me consistently going to bed at the same time every night and getting up at the same time each morning no matter how little sleep I have had. Johan suggested I try it a couple of years back, and painful as it initially was, it is the only thing that has ever really worked with my insomnia, which has plagued me all my life. I think crucially, the first week you give yourself LESS time than you actually need for a good night's sleep in your bed, which teaches your body to take the chance of sleep when it presents itself. Doing this recent play has put my body right back in it's 'natural' preferred nocturnal state and I am struggling to break it. Doing this will be painful, boring and tedious, but it must be done!

Life Imitating Art And Trying To Remain Sane In The Face Of Madness

Aren't blogs annoying when the author writes 'I know I haven't updated this in a while, but I've been so busy, blah...blah...blah'? Well, I don't see why this one should be any different and it happens to be true. So, yeah...what they said.


As it happens I don't know where to begin or how much to include as it really has been a roller coaster ride on all levels and in all directions and there's been so much jerking around along the journey that now it's finally over I am struggling to find some equilibrium and it's no exaggeration to say it's been physically and emotionally battering. 


The journey I'm talking about is the experience of doing the recent Christopher Marlowe play. It does seem silly in a way to not come out of the closet and just say what it is, but I still like the veneer of  anonymity, however thin. That said, I've been blabbing left, right and centre to people about my 'secret blog' and although not in any way actively seeking certain people's approval to write about them (also anonymously, naturally), it also didn't quite feel right to go ahead and just do it. So I mentioned it to Dickie the director  who responded with "why are you telling me? I don't care, I'm not going to read it", which is exactly the response I expected and wanted, and also to Ralph, a transgender member of the cast who played Lucifer. He gave me his blessing, and very kindly provided me with several of his prosthetic cocks and strap-ons to use in the play (although would complain profusely about the 'knicker-dust' attached to the rather forlorn-looking flesh-coloured prosthesis at the end of a performance).

Dickie is a brilliant director, a true creative and highly intuitive artist who goes with his gut and creates things 'in the moment'. This way of working is fine - admirable even if you are working with inanimate objects, or mediums such as paint, but problems arise if you are working with people and increases exponentially if the cast is very large. Dickie thinks *epic* in terms of his productions - more and more layers are added, there's a live band accompanying the action and control freakery is shown in every detail right down to the type of glasses worn by the actors. Dickie welcomes the unexpected and finds creative opportunities everywhere. So in the morning he might find golf clubs at a car boot, so we have a scene involving golf clubs. In the afternoon he might meet someone interesting in a launderette and he'll want to get them involved. That evening he might meet someone gigging at an Open Mic and he'll want them too. Pretty soon we ended up with a cast of 16 (not including musicians). I joked that he was "casting everyone and their dog", then he cast a dog. I kid you not - Wolfie, the beautiful chihuahua and easily the most professional member of the cast, played Lucifer's companion and upstaged us all. 

The task of organising so many people (particularly when you are not good at organising) for rehearsals and keeping focussed on the end goal is enormous and Dickie ploughed on without a stage manager or assistant director. Although others tried to get a rehearsal schedule out of him, he couldn't really think about such trifles, which meant that we would more often than not be called with very little warning, have to sit on a floor for hours and perhaps not be used. Very frustrating, and almost impossible to organise the rest of your life around it. As the time for the production came closer and the amount of work still needing to be done became apparent, tempers became frayed and niceties went out the window. Quite frankly I felt a mug at times since both the atmosphere and the process had become deeply tense and unenjoyable, a feeling only enhanced with the dark material of the play. I frequently asked myself why I was doing it, since I've been paid in the past to have jobs where I arrived with my stomach in knots, where I've felt disrespected, and with shorter hours too!

Thankfully Johan, who was to perform magic to the audience as they were coming in, stepped in a week before our first performance as stage manager/production assistant/organiser/arse-kicker and all round good egg and things calmed down somewhat and not before time. However when the play went live, we were all working at such an intensity, that physically, mentally and emotionally there was no area that was unaffected. We were utterly knackered too and after striking the set every night would often rather foolishly sit in the bar until stupid o'clock until crawling home and doing it all again. It was a heady mix. Often there was more drama off stage than on, and I, myself am not proud that after a few drinks would attempt to 'take on' the director about various matters (many of which are listed above) and get nowhere, except to feel regretful and even more off-kilter the following day. I realised that I had started to play out my relationship with my father with him, since there were several attributes that reminded me of him. Dickie often pointed out that he had sixteen egos to deal with and they were all acting-out stuff with him. This is undoubtedly true, but I believe those egos were kicking off because of the chaos of the process and the way they were treated. All this culminated in me have horrendous panic attacks during the performance on the last night. I am not surprised, with all of our buttons were being pressed - it often did not feel safe or nice and lots of people were having 'mad moments' or extreme reactions and this was mine. It comforts me to know that absolutely no one knew. It is a shame that it was the last show as the one before I'd had a ball, but I shall do my level best to move on from it and not fixate on the feeling of panic I experienced. 

The dramas continued in the after party, I tried to go at a 'sensible' time of 4am, only to have Lucifer leaning out the window as I was waiting for my taxi and tempt me with diazepam to stay longer, yes I made a deal with devil! Things got crazier, folk played bongos into the night, made out under bushes, came to in the sea and other stuff, some of which is part of a police investigation. 

Almost two weeks later, I'm still recovering. It was an excellent production and a full-on experience. But not one I care to repeat any time soon. A work/life balance is important in whatever job you do, and it's important to me to feel safe and respected in my endeavours. 

The two faces of Lucifer and his evil little helper