Going Home

So, you move half-way across the world

To be in theatre

And drama school is over and

You find yourself... temping.

Answering phones, writing emails 

Being part of the corporate cog

“Good morning, [insert company name]. One moment please-”

Transfering the call to persons unknown somewhere else in the building

And, for a bit, it was kind of fun. 

Seeing the insides of buildings across London

Meeting new people

A new job every day,

But it was also exhausting 

And a little depressing

So many people are just so unhappy

This daily slog. 

And one day you find yourself back in the theatre,

In front of house

And it was a job you did for seven years

Once upon a time ago.

And walking into your first shift

Even though it’s a whole lifetime/a world away/10,000 miles apart

It’s like coming home

The instant familiarity of it,

The rows of seats 

(A to H, no Row I so as not to confuse people, though this theatre has a Row O)

The smell of hazer

The smell of theatre dust. 

The instant friendship and family that theatre people become

The not insignificant army of people that make a show happen 

Consider before you’ve even sat in your seat

The book writer and composer and orchestrator and director and casting director and agents and actors and choreographer and musical director and musicians and designers and ops and builders and painters and dressers and stage managers and stage door persons and ushers and bar staff and theatre manager and a myriad of people have

Played their part

For the 7.30pm show start 

And the lights go dim

And you watch the audience watching the show

And, like Amelie who turns around in the movie theatre

To see the peoples faces,

You find a joy in watching their expressions

Observing their collective laughs and moments of surprise

And although you still want,

More than anything,

To be up on that stage,

For now, this is lovely.

Being paid to be part of it all

And knowing, at least you’re in your house

And this world

With its strange hours

And lack of sunlight

And legion of folk all trying to 

Make It

And the insistent dedication required to 

Make It Happen

Is the exact world you want to be in.

The end. 

Synchrone

And one day you are walking down the street in Glebe and you see a flyer for a lady named Keyna who teaches piano and flute and you think, that is an excellent name for a musician, and I would like to take flute lessons again. And you call her and it takes you nearly six months to organise a lesson and finally you meet and you discover you have met a kindred spirit. And every week you share music and meditation and it is fun and lovely and inspiring. And she makes you better than you are, and she inspires you to work hard and suddenly you found you have passed your eighth grade flute exam and it makes you happy and proud and gives a great sense of accomplishment. And then you sing her original music and it just makes you so happy. 

And then you discover that she is playing in a new duo called Synchrone and they are playing French music. And you go along to the Flute Tree at Leichardt and for an hour or so on a sunny Sunday afternoon you listen to delightful music that touches your soul and makes you want to move to Paris and drink wine and eat pastries and be surrounded by beautiful people who play beautiful music in pretty little unsung venues. And they do a lovely cover of the theme from "Amelie" which is one of your favourite movies of all time and you smile because music makes you happy. And sharing music makes you happy. 

In the words of Felix Riebl, if only the whole world could be made of people like these, then the news would not be telling me of all that warfare endlessly. The end.