Bullets and lightbulbs.
So Monday was a day off Empire, though I did a few spots. I walked up the Crag with Laura Davis and had a physio jab me a bit and it was all very relaxing and lovely.
Tuesday I had a quiet crowd and a reviewer in, who gave me a 5 star review, and then woke up to a second 5 in the morning. I'm never sure how much to plug and boast about things like that - in part because I don't know how much people care or pay attention, and in part because with the world the way it is at the moment, I don't want to be dropping some smug self congratulations into the middle of some horrifying world event.
I tend to steer clear of personal politics on social media, because I'd rather leave those as mainly professional spaces and do whatever good in the world I can do outside the realm of the online void. I fear it can make you feel accomplished for having articulated a righteous opinion without actually changing anything about the real world. But maybe the internet is the real world now... I don't know.
Last night a lovely young man came up and gave me a small box (pictured above). He said he'd been reading my blog and had brought me a lightbulb. Which was a very thoughtful gift. I thought there was a card in the box but it was just his shooting scores from a gun range. So now I'm keeping the box on my window sill so anyone who wants to steal my stuff thinks I have a gun.
The show's getting tighter and more inexorable, with fewer and fewer slow moments and clunky nights. A lady last night came up in tears (the good kind), and so I feel like I've been doing a decent job of saying what I want to say with the show.
More than halfway through now. I'm MCing a fancy Virgin Friends of the Fringe afternoon now, and there are clean floors and free cheese. It feels like a different world.
Chiz!