Gosh I'm tired.
I'm getting up at 7:30 every morning, and that feels great. However, somehow I can't ever sleep before 3 in the morning, no matter when I go to bed. I hope this will settle soon, because as it is I am practically sleepwalking in the day.
Today I found myself in a sprawling tower block in Battersea, which felt very much like a science fiction set, especially the endless dark corridors with plumbing snaking along the ceiling.
I had a barbecue there with some games designers, and kept myself awake by drinking strong coffee and talking about interactive picture books and improvised theatre, and games of course. I always talk a lot when I'm getting too tired. Then I had to leave because I feared I'd fall asleep on the spot (we did try keeping me awake by sprinting through the park but it didn't help), and I lay down on the sun-warmed wooden floor of Battersea train station to read Tove Jansson's "Traveling Light" which I'd picked up o the way from my local bookshop.
I'm sure by now I want to stay in this area, find a flat here... I love my little bookshop, the cafe, the pub... I might start to help out with little family events in the pub, drawing workshops, toy-making, that sort of thing. I like this neighborhood. It's my home now.
I looked at a room in a local house shared mostly with musicians, which means I could get double bass lessons as well. Not a bad option. I'm also by now unable to pass the estate agent's without taking down notes of new properties for rent. I think I'd really like to have my own place, even if that means working three times as hard as I have done so far. Especially so, actually, because I have started to enjoy my work more than ever, and it really feels like it's time to switch gears.
Mentioning improvised theatre: yesterday I went to see something utterly astonishing. It was a show called "Lifegame", conceived by Keith Johnstone and performed by Improbable. A member of the audience is interviewed about their life on stage and the actors dramatize scenes from it - some plain, some in song, and some involving the interviewee in a different part talking to themselves portrayed by an actor. There are musicians and technicians helping with lighting and sound, and a good deal of props to be used as needed. It was seriously funny, and incredibly moving - at one point I looked around and saw that many people in the audience were crying quietly. A minute later there was a roar of relieved laughter, and in the end some people seemed to glow as they walked out into the foyer. It was the bravest and most skilled piece of impro performance I've seen, I think.