Well well well. My computer remains broken and I love it. I have an excuse now for everything. I am free to add an extra 2 days before replying to emails. I can have extra chippies. I can spend 6 hours in the bath. What am I supposed to do? My laptop is BROKEN, sir! It has delayed the old newsletter though hasn’t it? I have felt bad about this. I started writing a handwritten newsletter for you in Edinburgh!
Feels more like a diary entry doesn’t it? Not very interesting but sharing because I took the time to take a little picture of it, bless. I stopped writing it abruptly because Lou Wall entered the cafe and I wanted to talk to them about the new musical of theirs I am in (had to make sure they have written me a very cunty song). It opens in a month -ish at The Hayes theatre in Sydney. It’s called Flat Earthers the musical. I am the villain. Perfect. I cannot wait to sit in a character offered up by somebody else. I cannot write any more characters. I cannot be creative. I am sucked dry.
My latest episode of Thank God You’re Here came out this week and I loved the edit. Something people don’t realise is that you improvise that scene for like ten minutes and then they cut all the bits that aren’t that funny, things you say that are too rude for TV, songs you play on a harpsichord that are protected by copyright laws etc. So you never know how it will look in the edit. I love that show so much and I still cannot believe I am allowed to do it. You can watch it on Tenplay. Being put in a costume and tossed to the wind with no idea what will happen next is the best thing in the entire world. I wish I could just do that every day.
My book is in stores tomorrow. People can go to cinema nova, have a glass of red and then wander over to Readings and come across my book. This is a madness I will never get used to. Writing the book was such a viscose experience. It was so sticky and hard to get out of. I wanted to stay in the book forever. I got to spend so much time with my brother and my father and the girl I was growing up. The day I had to hand it over I couldn’t stop crying because I didn’t want to let those things go. I have such a heavy gap in my ribs longing to be filled by Michelle Brasier aged 17. I love her so much. She was fucking brilliant. Annoying but so authentic. Right down to the frizzy hair.
I am in the airport lounge waiting to fly to Brisbane for my first ever book launch. The Melbourne and Sydney ones seem easy but I don’t know the venue that has been lined up for me in Brisbane and I am afraid when I get there everyone will know I am a fraud. I didn’t have a hand in planning this one except choosing my friend Amy to host. I don’t know what happens at a book launch really. I hope there is wine. I sent an email asking if there was any wine but my team replied with no answer apart from ‘let us know if you have any questions’ so I feel stupid asking again about the wine. Brisbane fans, I guess BYO. Tell them Mother said it was fine.
There is nothing profound in this newsletter because I don’t feel profound today. I feel incredibly sad. Which is to clarify most people’s 7/10. Sadness for me is so rare. I am lucky. When it hits, I am rendered useless. I have no weapons against her. Well maybe that’s not true. I do have a dog. I have no coping mechanisms. My therapist says sometimes you just have to ‘feel’ sadness and that I have to stop making everything including myself a project but what does he know? He’s a boy! I consulted my tarot cards for a second opinion and pulled something like the WHEELS OF FORTUNE card. The little tarot book tells me that this card signifies life as cyclical. What goes up must come down. Success, new chapters, moving forward to harvest after a long period of tending the fields. Maybe the real Edinburgh Fringe is the friends we made along the way. I haven’t stopped in so long. My year looked like this:
In Jan I put together and performed my show Average Bear with a string section at Sydney Festival and they finally let me on The Project. Please enjoy this cropping.
In Feb I recorded my first album and the Malthouse asked me to do a show so I made Songs With My Friends where two people got engaged during the Fingering Shed!
In March, flew to New York with Screen Australia where I met Steve Martin and went to a VIP party where the door girl asked Sting for his last name because she couldn’t find him on the list. Sold out Average Bear off Broadway and in LA at the iconic Dynasty Typewriter and had lots of meetings with enthusiastic Americans some of whom even meant what they said.
In April I launched my album at The Forum and came back to LA for Netflix is a joke festival where I got so drunk because of the American free-pours that I woke up and thought ‘okay where did I put my drunkness?’ And had to go through all my apps and messages to see what I had said or posted that needed fixing.
May and June I toured the UK and Ireland with Reform - my favourite show and finished it off with a huge show at Clapham Grand which I think is the largest solo show I have ever done in my life. Back to Australia for Adelaide Cabaret festival sick as an absolute dog, went to hospital and came home with a double middle ear infection that felt like it would never go away.
Back to the UK to do Latitude Festival (never let me ‘glamp’ again) then to Scotland for Edinburgh Fringe to do my show about the time two years ago when I had a bartholin cyst and got another bartholin cyst. Back to hospital. Didn’t miss a damn show. And 4 days ago, I got home to watch my episode of Australian Story which has been 3 years in the making.
Some might say, it is natural for me to be feeling the weight of all of this now that i have finally stopped. She said as she waits to board a flight to Brisbane to launch her book. ‘Stopped’ LOL. Sure, bitch.
I am very grateful for all of this. It goes without saying except that I do have to say it otherwise you might think I have no grasp on my privilege. I have not worked in an office. I have played dress ups for a living now for many years. My dreams have come true. Thank you thank you thank you. And I am so tired.
I feel such an ache for myself as a teenager at the moment. For all of the wonder. I usually have such wide eyes and this week I can hardly keep them open. I know it’ll pass but I wish I could fast forward (Magda!). An old friend, the person who taught me how to love and how to drink and how to be, is doing a show at the Opera House this week about growing up in Wagga and making mistakes. I am so sad that I can’t go because I feel like if I could watch it, it would be like seeing his version of what the book is for me sorry no okay wait guys what the fuck is happening -
Sorry.
SORRY
There is a man sitting across from me in the Virgin lounge. He is probably in his early 60’s. Long white hair. Scandinavian vibe. Looks like a cool guy if I am honest. Like I trust he votes well. Up until just now he was eating a huge tub of yoghurt, watching things on his laptop without headphones which was making me insane but I just put my head phones in and it was fine. I can problem solve. So then this guy, this Temu, off-brand Skarsgard goes on a mission and comes back with headphones in and I think, ‘Oh, fantastic! He has asked for headphones. A normal thing to do.’ Well guess what bitch! Plot twist, now he’s eating a whole ass rectangle of butter with a spoon. Not like a butter you get at a restaurant. Like a butter from the supermarket. A household sized butter. Like it’s a dessert. What in the Huberman lab is this? What am I to do? Do you know what, dear reader, *this* is that weapon against sadness I was after. The absurd can always break the spell of a sooky Edinburgh come down on a windy afternoon. I guess my DMs are right. Comedy is important.
And just like that, my jet lag and my sadness evaporated.
See you at the book launch, babe. I’m back on top.