Live from Edinburgh

[Jessica]

Are you home yet? Or just tired of writing. I really hope you come home soon, because I like you and I like your music. But I also kinda hope you stay because this is a great journal.

[mpbrockman]

Are you home yet? Or just tired of writing. I really hope you come home soon, because I like you and I like your music. But I also kinda hope you stay because this is a great journal.

Aw, shucks. Thanks Jessica. I've just been busy this last week and saving up my notes.

...in my saloon, you get rough with one of the girls, the girl is allowed to cut ya!

I agree, Jordan. Not having been there myself, though, I don’t know if Kelly was in a position (literally or safety-wise) to do that. She’s a fairly diminutive lady, and simply may not have felt up to delivering a shot to the groin in the midst of an apparently unsympathetic crowd.

As an addendum to that, though. I was walking home earlier in the week late at night carrying two armfuls of grocery bags. I turned a corner and ran into what I can only describe as a group of street toughs (rugby players if the shirts were any indication) yelling obscenities at a car full of equally irate young men across the street. My instinct for self preservation had me looking for escape routes, but there were none as I was trapped by a high fence on one side and traffic on the other, so I forged ahead. The group made way for me without stopping their stream of invective except to politely say, “Excuse me”, and let me pass. One even apologized (“Sorry, sir”) for having trod on my boot. Then they went right back to threatening their rivals in the car with grievous bodily harm. Weird.

So, this will be my last post from Fringe Central. Mostly because it’s time for me to be a-movin’ on, but also this is because this is the last day performers have access to these computers here at Edinburgh University. I promised (mostly) silliness in this entry, so here you go.

-There is an artist named Antony Gormley who did a series of castings of himself and set them at various points in the Waters of Leith. Here is a link to some good pics. I walked by this at Stockbridge every day on my way to our venue. I kept meaning to take a picture of it au naturel, but earlier this week someone managed to hop the fence and climb down to it (no mean feat, that) and drape it in a dress. Apparently this is a fairly common occurrence and a sign that some local kids were having a high old time the night before. So now I have a picture of a Gormley in high (?) fashion.

-Also on my usual trek from Orchard Brae through New Town to our venue the sidewalk is laid out in concrete in a square/rectangle/square pattern. Each of these blocks has the imprint of what for all the world looks like buttocks. So every day I am left with the visual of the work crew being followed by two heavy guys with no pants taking turns helping to seat (literally) the blocks into their new homes. “Hey Feargan, get yer’ big arse over! This stoan ain’t sittin’ right! Oh nevermin’, it’s a rectangle. Bran, get yer’ bigger arse tae work ‘ere.”

-I promised to tell you about why I have to talk about my supposed liking for whores on stage a while back and never got around to it. First I need to tell you a wee bit about the show first. There’s a running joke throughout in which Amy (henceforth referred to as Delilah) cannot get my name right. She keeps referring to me as “Crispy Sugarpot”. At one point in the show we even have a back and forth during which I give her some less-than-good-natured grief about it. She tries her damndest but usually ends up calling me something like “Victoria Beckham”, after which she goes right back to calling me “Crispy”. OK, back to the bit with the whores. It started out simply enough. Delilah does her little spiel about donations near the end of the show. The very first night it ended with her saying “I need money to drink and Crispy needs… uh…”, here she turned to me and I blurted out, “Whores, lots and lots of whores”. Little did I realize I had spawned a new running bit. From that night on, Delilah would say “I need money to drink, and Crispy, well, he’s got a thing for whores – don’t you Crispy?” At this point I was expected to say something about my love for the working girl. I proceeded to get more and more colorful with the descriptions as the weeks went on, especially once I discovered that Amy (as opposed to the trashy Delilah) is actually quite the prude. I had great fun making her break character. So I would say whatever demented thing came to my mind (I believe there were references to keeping girls in nun costumes in my crisper for freshness, buy-two-get-one-free night in Glasgow, playing Pokemon with social diseases - “gotta catch ‘em all!”, stirrups hanging from ceiling fans and the staff’s favorite “Yeah, Delilah – but it’s getting harder and harder to find midgets willing to dress up as my ex-wife”). I shan’t list them all here, but probably the most fun part of the whole bit had nothing to do with the laughs, it the look of pure fear in Amy’s eyes as she turned to me having no idea what sort of weird scenario I was about to unload on her. After I’d do my line, Delilah would turn back to the audience and say “Thanks, Crispy, for ruining the whole f*cking show”. If I’d done my job right, she was completely out of character by that point and the audience was in stitches. We’d do one more song and call it a night. So there’s the whole whore thing explained.

-Speaking of Mr. “Sugarpot” - I was greeted off stage several times in various parts of the city with shouts of “Hey, Crispy!”- including once by a bevy of drag queens up by Bristo Square. Great, now the city of Edinburgh, Scotland thinks my name is “Crispy Sugarpot” and I’m a walking STD incubator.

-I do not, repeat, do not expect that to catch on in Austin.

-Scottish newspaper recipe: Take 3 pages real news, add 8 pages of footballers’ liaisons (or rumors of liaisons), 4 pages of actual sport, sprinkle in multiple articles concerning the Minogue sisters, Patsy Kensit’s fourth divorce, turmoil over the latest “X-factor” or ‘Must be the Music” results, anything to do with the Beckhams and/or the royals/or the Queen’s corgis (half-page if it’s potentially embarrassing), a gratuitous picture of Cheryl Cole or Valerie Baber doing nothing in particular, 1 page business news, 3 columns godawful dating advice, a few small smudgy black and white print ads for no discernible product featuring boobies (yes, they call them boobies), and some real estate listings. All ingredients must be in colloquial (i.e. crappy, bantering, informal… nah, just crappy) English. They’re rather fun to read, though.

-Speaking of “boobies” (sorry, ladies), the most prominently displayed magazine in many liquor, smoke and convenience shops is called “Nuts”. Yes, it’s a girlie mag, but I never got over being tickled by the juxtaposition of the words “Nuts” and “Boobies” in boldface on the covers. Which is it?!!

Coolest thing I did: TIE – the Scottish National Galleries and the climbing of Calton Hill

Biggest regret: The History Museum was closed for renovation the entire time I was there. Bummer.

Coolest thing I saw: (mentioned in a previous post – but still hands down the winner) Edinburgh Castle at 1AM lit up blue with flames along the ramparts. I cannot reiterate enough how breathtaking that was.

Dumbest thing I learned: Wool suit + unexpected North Sea squall + hot stage lights (in that order) make you smell funny. Moral? ALWAYS carry your trenchcoat or umbrella, no matter how nice the day seems (or what the BBC says) when you start out.

Thing I learned to hate most: Flyering. It’s a necessary part of the deal, but often an exercise in constant rejection.

Correction to perception: Haggis, neeps and tatties are not the national dish. Lager is. (P.S. Haggis is OK, neeps are to be feared. Bleagh.)

Another correction to perception (take note guys): American men are perceived as being, and I quote, “better at wooing” than the average UK guy. I would’ve thought we would be perceived as boorish, loud clods; but apparently many of the women of the UK consider us quite, dare I say: sophisticated, kind, well-spoken and gentlemanly (oh, and they love our “accents”). I got the feeling, though, that many of these women had been dating footballer-types who got drunk, threw up in their laps, made clumsy passes at them and left with the impression that they had shown the lady in question a good time.

Speaking of perceptions of Americans, I found that Americans are generally quite well liked. I gather that they think of our country as their big, powerful, lumbering, not-always-terribly-bright and possibly dangerous cousin. Nevertheless, when I mentioned I was an American from Texas such news was greeted with hearty and seemingly genuine approval. That was nice.

Well, I have a train to catch. I will admit that starting around Wednesday or Thursday of last week homesickness really began to sink in. Odd for someone who used to make a living on the road and have no home to speak of to be saying this, but ‘tis true. Perhaps that is coloring my viewpoint at this time but I will say the following:

1. I recommend doing the Fringe to anybody who hasn’t done it before. Odds are, without careful planning, you will lose money (possibly lots of money) – but the experience, I believe, is worth it.
2. I recommend visiting Edinburgh if you ever have the chance. It is simply lovely. I myself will undoubtedly come here again at some point, however…
3. I rather doubt, given the same set of circumstances, that I would do the Fringe again. If I’d known everything I know now, I still would have gone this time – but I doubt I shall repeat.

There are numerous reasons for that last assessment. One universal reason: money (I did OK, but only because of outside ventures – not because of our EFF show). Several more personal reasons: too many damn people for my taste. Rather like Mardi Gras; I’ve done it once - I’m glad I did - but I have little to no desire to repeat the experience. It’s also simply touristville at this time of year - I had the odd feeling at times that I was visiting “Edinburghland” at EuroDisney rather than seeing this lovely little town as it should be.

That wraps it up from Scotland. I may leave a post tonight from London if the opportunity presents itself. Otherwise, I shall be home tomorrow (Tuesday). Although anybody who tries to contact me before, say, Wednesday evening will probably have a half-wit on their hands as my travel schedule (including tonight’s train minus a short rest in London) totals up to about 17 hours or so.

I will, of course, post pics ASAP should any of them prove to be worth a crap. Taking shots with a camera phone against a uniform background of medium grey does not give one the contrast one might hope for.

Fare well, fair Edinburgh: A drinking town with a beautiful problem.

[mpbrockman]

Home, sweet home. I look (and feel) like an extra from a George Romero film - but I am home.

And I am pleased.

At some point, energy permitting, I will post some pics and perhaps a few extra notes. Then we can wrap this little thread up.

[mpbrockman]

Pix are up on my website.

http://www.perfectlyreasonabledreams.com/

Click on "Edinburgh Festival 2010" in the sidebar and enjoy the huge variety of picture quality.

That's all until, well... next year?