Where am I?
Northern hemisphere.
Where am I?
Grand Duchy of Luxembourg.
Where am I?
52.
Where am I?
By myself in a hotel.
Where am I?
Scattered across the smooth and hairy countries of the world.
Where am I?
Exactly?
I still have no idea.
***
Poetic that, wasn't it? No? Well. At least wordy. Enigmatic. The touch of crudeness I seem unable to exclude. Not that I should. I am. Crudely made. Crudely drawn. Crudely amalgamated in atoms and water. Cartilage and blood. Thoughts and actions. History and passports. Pipes and songs. A man.
***
“Can you make it funnier?”
“My apologies.”
“Not at all.”
“Not at all?”
“No. I mean: no need to apologise.”
“Ah. I thought you meant not at all funny.”
“Yes. No. Funny is good. We like funny.”
“Who doesn't?”
“The people who made The Phantom Menace.”
“Mmm. Point taken. Have you seen - ”
“Yes.”
***
Less poetry. More bile and suspects. Yes? Right. Here goes....
Although might I quickly add that I just wanted to set the tone.
***
“I thought the tone set itself?”
“Well...if you're going to be like that the whole day...”
“And stop using italics.”
***
So. How many countries now?
Actually, before proceeding let me acknowledge those readers who've been asking for a new blog. You're all correct. It's been ages underline italics. The truth is I've been ... hugging italics inverted commas my way around the world and that takes quite a bit of administration. I'm not bragging. In fact I began to worry but more of that in a bit.
Nonetheless what with all the dating apps these days and figuring out the local wifi and getting passwords and then the mini-messaging and sending of face pics (or feet pics in a couple of cases honestly it doesn't surprise me anymore and perhaps that should worry me) and then switching to Whatsapping and then, of course, the actual walking to designated coffee shops and then perhaps some hugging inverted commas exclamation mark hopefully. Also time-consuming. On a good day. And there's been a happy calendar of good days, praise Durexias, the Greek god of hugging.
Athens. I suppose the Parthenon was a place of worship, what with a massive statue of Athena inside. We were there a few weeks ago. I have video. Although not of the Acropolis.
Let's face it, this blog has mainly been about churches, buildings of interest, bars of interest, and a spot of arm-wrestling dot dot dot. I haven't really seen that many churches this year. Well...seen them. The 'going in' bit has really slackened off. You tend to lose your wifi up a nave.
***
“Yes. That sort of thing.”
“Oh okay I see.”
***
On a selfish note, I have actually kept writing. Only I felt too – what word, what word? - exposed underline when I put pen to paper. Finger to laptop. The list was getting too long you see. The admin taking up too much time. I wondered if I needed to join one of those two-capital-letter groups, the second one always being 'A'. My dressing-room mate, Stan, was getting worried. In a bar in Istanbul - called Snog - a female cast-mate who has italics attended one of the two-capital-letter groups said there was no cause for concern. It wasn't addiction. Just opportunity. I was a single man travelling the world, for heaven's sake. I took heart and immediately asked the short barman out. He said yes through his thick, short beard.
And turned out to be straight. Turkey just happens to be one of those countries where the men are so self-assured and comfortable with each other that going on a lunch date with an Australian who's been to your bar a lot is not odd. There was a fair bit of Google Translating above the fistikli kebap and finally a double realisation, smiles, and finally sweat and awkwardness. I was depressed for four and a half hours.
They weren't always pretty either. Although - occasionally - godlike. Those I would ask for. As in: ask The Universe. Yes, that thing. I'm using the Law of Attraction not for money or health or world peace or less talent shows. I am using it very, very selfishly for men of a certain type, size, musculature or size yes I realise I wrote that word twice. And here's the interesting part.
It hugging works.
***
“Will there be a lot of talking about this The Law of Attraction?”
“It's featured somewhat heavily the last two years. Since Korea really.”
“That long?”
“Yes.”
“I like the descriptions of churches.”
“The Law of Attraction is very similar to praying.”
“Doesn't tell me who the architect was though, does it?”
“Mmm?”
“I like it when you write about who designed them or who paid for them or how long they took to be built. What art work is inside. Et cetera.”
“I saw the Blue Mosque in Istanbul.”
“Was it terrifically blue?'
“Not really. No.”
“Oh.”
“And I had sex with an 18-year-old there. Made him show me his citizen card and everything.”
“Eighteen?”
“Am I smirking?”
“No.”
“Phew. Got that under control then.”
“He wouldn't even have heard of Live Aid.”
“That's a strange thing to say.”
“Just giving it a little perspective.”
“He's one of the ones who keeps texting. Sent a really beautiful two-minute voice message on Whatsapp yesterday. He misses hugging me. Lower your eyebrows. He means hugging. We actually ended up spending time together. Like a...what's that word?”
“Couple?”
“That. He really misses hugging me. With his arms. I sighed when I heard that bit.”
“Eighteen?”
“I figure he balances out the 60-year-old guy from New York. I hugged him in Africa.”
“What other churches have you seen?”
***
I mean. Whether you think there's anything in it or not. I have managed to attract inverted commas or no inverted commas f**k the inverted commas a scrumful of blokes and I just didn't feel comfortable writing about them in blog-form. Also, they each deserve respect and perhaps anonymity. Forgetting underline in a couple of instances.
St Gobbans! Just remembered. Smallest church in Northern Ireland. Look it up. Hugging tiny.
So I began to write a book called Coldharbour Lane. (Legitimate use of italics.) I stayed in Coldharbour Lane in South London when we were rehearsing the show this year back in January. Hope that connection's not too impenetrable.
Consequently the blog has kindofsortof become a book about a guy called Joshua who spends a lot of time in airport lounges, churches and on dating apps and happens to be touring the world in a musical called Milky Coffee. (Legitimate use of limp pseudonym.) In fact, anonyms, nom de guerres and aliases abound. It feels like I've taken off a heavy coat and laid it down over my birth certificate when I write it. It's a nice feeling.
So perhaps that's what I need to brush off and edit and post as a blog. Coldharbour Lane. Joshua's had a very interesting year – two years - and been to fourteen more cities on the tour since February and another three off his own bat, and of course a bit of London here and there and at one point a Greek island for a week's break and Western Australia for a sad reason which also included a church.
And L.A.
Without even trying Joshua landed during Pride week. He did not attend church.
Oh yes. It's December 25. Got to get to warm-up by 5.30. We have a show. They celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve here in Luxembourg. Funny old world.
Funny old Protestant, Catholic, Lutheran, Islamic, Jewish, Greek Orthodox, athiest, African, Asian, European, Middle Eastern world.
Merry Mingling everyone.
From the Northern Hemisphere.
Specifically Luxembourg.
Where the male Prime Minister is married to a bloke.
Hmm....maybe I'm right where I should be.
***
“A scrumful?”
“It sounded right.”
“Eight blokes?”
“Is that how many are in a scrum?”
“Yes. In Union. League only uses six.”
“Huh.”
“So roughly seven blokes.”
“How many if we add both teams together?”
“What?”
“And maybe the linesman.”
“So a whoreful?”
“Well if you're going to be that like the whole day...”
***
Like a roller in the ocean (la la la la la la-la)
Life is motion (la la la la la la-la)
Move on (la la la la-la)
(All italics)
