Saturday, March 31, 2018

Inside this Performers mind

I’ve had a hell of a week, I’d previously canceled Glastonbury due to a delay in a passport renewal and three weeks after that I reluctantly cancelled a gig in Switzerland. That was that…only 2 days later my passport actually arrived, 6 days before the gig and I couldn’t organize it. I had people putting in hours for me and finding not quite securable $3350 tickets, [ie can’t book without initial credit card transaction deposit]
The best I’d come up on two days notice was $4780 with the next $5800.
and Switzerland being the departure point of an earlier European 30 day trip started at Glastonbury.

I’d figured I’d always let Switzerland know at a cut off point one week before the gig, that my passport was an issue. Mainly because why involve them in a problem they have no influence in ?

I understand there might be a righteous tendency on their part to ask, "Why wait until a week before?”

Simply put, It was my drama and if I resolved it, not your issue/drama/energy sump.

It didn’t work out, the deadline past, I made the call and then 2 days later, 6 days before the gig starts with 2 days traveling to get there, I get my passport. I ponder pros and cons and let them know, they engage payment immediately [but it takes a week so in  effect it simply freezes funds] and for the next 48 hours, committed to simply getting there on some advance on the $4000 fee…failed.

I’d been keeping an airfare reserve right up tip I canceled a week before the gig, I’d then paid bills and no longer had my airfare reserve, Right up til yesterday I was prepared to spend 4 days [60 hrs] flying there and back and 5 days working for the cost of the travel.

But last night I gave up, neither I or any close friends had cash on hand so I accepted again, like I had done earlier in the week when I made my initial cancellation.

It’s tempered, this ridiculous first world stress about Swiss visits and long term pal meet ups, by the fact that last year I’d shattered both my feet and lived in a wheelchair inside and completely alone for 7 weeks, a housekeeper would visit on wednesdays. I’m completely recovered but disappointed I don’t get to go on an adventure. I get to walk though.

The stress has been compelling in that unrelenting way stress is and so I immerse myself in clunky calculations.

Assuming a daily average expulsion rate of 6 inches from childhood to adulthood I have pooped 111690 inches, 2.83693 kilometers, 1.76278409 miles.
We each have within us the potential to be two mile turds.

another clunky calculation, and I’ll spare you the sordid arithmetic although feel free, is that I’ve had well over 15000 orgasms.

and I’m not going to Switzerland this year.

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