The man who wasn’t Georg

There is this man, and contrary to me wanting him to have been Georg, he wasn’t. He was German… from Munch in fact… in fact he was even from Bobingen before Munch. He had a way of starting a sentence and finishing it off with ‘well… you know’ and having you actually know. He had a laugh that made you feel like he had just discovered jokes and loved them!

This man’s name is Peter, and as much as I wanted him to be Georg… he wasn’t.

Peter was touring a show to a Theatre I work at and we instantly struck up a rapport, mainly because I just get his humor and we both enjoyed making fun of each other. He instantly reminded me of Georg, which in one way made me miss being back in the Lodge throwing a ball back and forth and not worrying about dropping it, but in another way made me happy to meet this new person who I get on with so well.

I find myself meeting a lot of people these days, on shows, in auditions, at the theatre, all people who are wonderful and friendly and kind and I find that I consider them all my friends no matter how short or long I have known them. But they all go off to do their own things and live their own lives and we shall most probably never meet again. I was working on a touring comedy show two weeks ago and their touring manager was a guy called James who was very good at his job but completely overwhelmed, so I designed and programmed his show for him and put all of the paperwork together as well as convert the show file into half a dozen different formats so he can use it on all sorts of desks. When his show went I got forwarded an email from my manager from him that was just glowing with praise and thanks to me and my team for being so amazing, and this made me feel really quite special, so after his show went I was excited to meet the next people who came to the theatre, which was Peter.

On Thursday the show had finished and Peter and his team left and I found myself although briefly consoled by him being around, now feeling a little sad, not that he had gone, but because he reminded me about how much I enjoyed being around you guys. And how of all the people I meet I don’t think I’ll come across friends quite like you.

So this takes me back to the age old discussion in my mind. Peter was like Georg in so many ways, and yet nothing like him at all. I could meet four people tomorrow called Jans, George, Henrick, and Mich, and they could be exactly like you in every way, except for one.

They did not share the experiences that we did. We are the people we are because of the experiences we have. And because I’m quite into my Bonsai Trees at the moment I’ll compare us to that, two seeds that are completely identical will grow into completely different shaped trees based on where the sun is, how much water they get, how much space their roots have, if there are insects and if there are other plants sharing their space with them.

There is this man, and contrary to me wanting him to have been Georg, he wasn’t, and for that I am thankful.

Ever Interested

A toast.

A toast to my friend. A toast to a good man. A toast to a warrior of light. A toast to all of you who venture to live your dreams. It seems today is that day. I am so happy right now, because you still walk among us, the few. I am so happy right now, because this means you still follow your heart!

follow your Heart and all will unfold Perfectly

This is my life.

Sleeping ’til the sun is high in the sky. Dreaming about the future. Eating breakfast with the best girl I know while reading the paper. Working on incredible, fantastic, boring, exciting, exhausting and extremely challenging projects. All of them at the same time. Drawing my own house. Making plans for the future. Thinking about my friends. Wishing I could fix all the worlds problems. Listening to great music. Attempting to play the piano. Planning a wedding. The best one ever. Chocolate. Red wine. A Vesper Martini every now and then. Cooking good food for good people. Enjoying the little things in life. Learning every single day. Always. Finding new places. Meeting new people and making new friends. Some not so good friends too. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. Not so much the drugs and we could do with some more rock ‘n roll. Setting up a new company. Longing for my girlfriend. My fiance actually. Climbing mountains. Walking in the woods. Sleeping outdoors in summer with a starry sky. Watching clouds drift by. Eating straweberries with cream. Caviar and Vodka. Barbequing in Switzerland with Georg. Going to the theatre in London with Eyal. Answering Hendrik’s Hog questions. Building lego. Getting up way to early in the morning after staying up way too long the night before. Beeing free and cruel. Loving someone. Loosing some battles. Winning the rest. Making three mistakes in one day. Screwing up the Schnick Schnack patch plan. Fixing the Hog. Drawing trees. Photographing beauty. Sleeping nude. Holding Signhild’s hand. Kissing. Running in the high and wild grass. Forgetting to be afraid of worms and bugs. Forgetting to be afraid of anything. Thinking I should rule the world. Ruling the world. Having the best friends ever. Ever. Seeing my family. Spending time with my brother, planning some great adventure. Realising there’s always a bigger fish. Beeing the bigger fish. Saving the day. Or screwing up all the plans everyone had. Keeping secrets. Sharing them. Knowing things. Showing off. Creating just one little bit of magic. Saving someones life. Saving the world. Wishing you could all be here. Now.

This is my life. It isn’t perfect. It doesn’t have to be.

tHis is my Perfect life.

to blog or not to blog

That really is the question.

I think the problem I’ve had lately with the blog is that I haven’t been sure what has been ‘appropriate blog material’. I feel that as the conversations sort of took off on a level of thinking that we cannot hope to maintain that every now and then we need to bring them back down to basics. To that end I am going to tell you about the mundaneties (i’m not sure if that’s a real word but if not it should be) of my life.

Biggest thing so far is that I’ve finally gotten off my ass and booked a theatre space with my own hard earned money so I can put on a production of ‘The Memory of Water’ in July, I have now got to work my ass of in other jobs so that I can afford the rest of the production costs as well as the rent of the theatre… it’s a mad step to take but I’m sick of waiting around for producers to get their asses moving so I’m just doing it myself. (For anyone that’s reading who is in the London Area come see the Memory of Water at the Lion and Unicorn Theatre from July 13th – 31st!) And our very own Hendrik Thomas is coming to London to design the lighting (sorry Georg but you’ve already designed this show :-P)

Speaking of Hendrik… he should be in London/Liverpool now and I am waiting for him to call me to tell me when he’s coming so I can book the space for him to see…?

Anyway, my original plan was to put on a small season of shows through the summer, a new writing double bill in the ETC Theatre, The Memory of Water at the Lion and Unicorn and a short classic at for the Camden Fringe festival, so I could have had a nice repetoire of shows all quite quickly, unfortunately due to every producer I met with thinking I’m a complete lunatic for wanting to do so much, time got a away with me and the spaces have been booked up, and the funds are now just going to be put into the one play…

I now have to run and meet Hendrik in town and shall return to give more information a little later!

Eyal Israel , Blogging not Philosophising! (much)

It’s the experience that counts… isn’t it?

For our readers who didn’t get the reference, the title of this post was also the title of Georg’s Dissertation (or FRP for some).

For my FRP I wrote about haitian and african trances and the methods of entering them, without ever actually doing the mantras being part of a ceremony or ever actually entering trance (apart from the trances we go into everyday). Lately I have been working with a Zimbabwaean theatre company called ‘Theatre Under Fire’ and have been incorporating alot of their singing and dancing into the story of Macbeth, and as a result I have been learning to Sing and Dance with them, this consists of an awful lot of breathing from your diaphram and stamping, and changing directions very suddenly, and also it flows quite easily so you can easily get lost in the rhythm of it, especially if there are 3 guys drumming along in the background. I finally fell into trance, over a year after writing a paper about it, and had I done it before hand I never would have written about it, because no amount of words can describe the myriad of things going on, the sensation of being ultra aware, of being completely out of control of your facilities and yet feel like you can control everything, the flying sensation when you let it go and then when I realised that I was in trance I was already out of it, because you cannot be selfaware in trance. Just as amazing as being in the trance feels being out of it feels like waking up from a nightmare, you jerk forwards and inhale simoultaneously and then have to just stop moving, catch your breath, and try to piece together the events of the past minute, (because it feels as if it has been hours). Even this does not even scrape the surface of what the experience felt like, and that is what made me think of this title.

The second of the two things that links in with this topic; I was in Liverpool last night (in fact im on the train back to Manchester now) I visited some friends I haven’t seen for a while, and I was reminded that what endears Liverpool in my memories was the experiences there, not the city. I have this revelation everytime I return to Liverpool… but it still bears mentioning.

And Finally, I am sitting on a train travelling at (relatively) high speeds through british countryside, and regardless of what yesterday brought that tomorrow may reclaim, the experience is here and now, and that can never be taken away from me.

“Only the person who has experienced light and darkness, war and peace, rise and fall, only that person has truly experienced life”         Stefan Zweig

So I would say, yes, it is the experience that counts.

Experiencing lIfe


P.S Mr Administrator, WordPress would like me to notify you that version 2.8 is available 😛

You can’t play on broken strings…

… that is certainly true. When you have a guitar and the strings are broken it becomes rather difficult to play a tune – or at least to play an harmonic one. My guitar is my life and the strings are all broken. I was never very good at playing before they broke, but since they are broken, the tune that I can manage to play is everything but pleasant.

I am so fed up with it all. Where the hell is my place in this world? When will I find it and will this ever happen? Somehow I missed out on a real and proper life over the past 25+ years. And now? I am hunting behind it every little second. Always getting myself in my own way. Nothing works, nothing shows its truth and I have no idea how to go on. In any way. Always sensible, rational and calm. Blabla…

I am standing at the loudest place in a crowd, the music cannot be any louder. Me, the person who always had problems with loud music simply because I cannot stand it… I find myself looking for the one place where it is louder than anywhere else. I keep myself awake for hours and hours only to know what it means to feel something. I was wandering around today in the heavy rain we had for over 12 hours. I went from one place to the other, not knowing where to go. Sat alone watching the other people go by. Having fun. I drank too much. And it didn’t help. I tried to reach some friends and all I found was superficial advice and rejection. Wow. How great it all is.

For god’s sake! This is so annoying. No purpose, nothing to look forward to, no aspiration. I am screaming at the top of my voice – only that you cannot hear me. I don’t want any of this any more. But where is the emergency exit door? It probably didn’t get built in at the beginning. And now? Do I need a sledge hammer?

I was wondering how long it actually takes for one to climb out of the valleys of life back up the hill. But I realised as it never rains – it pours, you can actually climb but still dig yourself deeper into the ground. How amazing!

Get away bloody lighting gels! Leave me alone moving lights! I don’t wanna see a CAD drawing any more! Leave me alone loud music and party people! Leave me alone pride! Leave me alone rainbow colours and everything that comes with it! Leave me alone Europride! My memories: leave me bloody alone and let go on things you cannot change! Leave me alone and accept that there are things that you cannot change, bring back or fix! Some things are lost for good! Leave them alone! So why the hell does it not work? Why why why…? I just wanna have peace from myself! Not to think about it all. Not to miss what you cannot have. Not to worry about tomorrow. Not to sit here alone. I just want to be happy for once. For one simple moment. I wanna be able to say: This is my favourite moment. And if I can only have one moment it should be this one.

Fuck off destiny and faith. I lost the believe in everything I ever believed in. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is no predetermined path we walk. It is all just a lot of crap.

Holidays of Life.

A train ride.

5 friends. On a train back to the city of their destiny, fate perhaps, important at least. A train that doesn’t really go where it should go. 5 friends, together again, never lost, never forgotten, but far apart for a long time. Together again. What they should be.

No one says a word. Silence. The only sound is the branches slashing against the side of the train, the diesel engine humming like old diesel engines do. Not one single word. 5 friends. Words are not necessary, silence is all we need. Tired. Excited. Thinking. Reading. Troubled even. Words serve no purpose but worldly communication here. 5 friends. This bond is stronger than that. No one needs to say anything. Simply because what needs to be said will be said in due time.

Still. 5 friends. A train that doesn’t go where it should go. Together again. E trying to make a conversation, not confound to the emptiness of non verbal communication. M reading his book, slowly, a page seems to take forever. H is almost sleeping in the corner, the world forgotten. G, trying to sleep in his own manner, elegant and upright as always. Me, observing, watching the world go by. 5 friends. Together again.

In this moment. This perfect moment. I know. I know what we will do, I remember our purpose. 5. Friends. Together. Again. Silent but not quiet. A moment that will come again and again. Still. 5 friends. A train that doesn’t go where it should. Still, we end up where we want to. Together.

tHis Perfect moment