Seven days until Montreal. I love what is happening to me in Toronto, but I seriously need to get out of town as soon as possible, and steal away to Montreal. Through the generosity of one good friend, I'll have my own apartment for seven days, at the corner of st. denis and duluth, and I have every intention of making this a working vacation. Whatever mysterious illness I've had upoon my legs is not within my blood - if anything, I had bloodwork done for everything from HIV to calcium levels to everything else, just to eliminate the possibilities of what this could be, and everything turned out 'clean...' as the doctor said (which is such a horrible word on other levels - I didn't like the usage cause it would imply that others are 'dirty...') But I understand the implication - I'm healthy, and that's wonderful. Perhaps it's a new reaction to chemotheraputic cream, or some new skin disorder, but whatever the case, the biopsy is tomorrow, the session in front of U ot T medical students soon after, but there are no worries on that level, and now that there are not, the mind is clearing up. This trip, and this show, are a priority. I've settled into my new role at the practical job quite well (I've actually become a better leader, and fundraiser, and suddenly have found myself to be quite a teacher when it comes to training others) There is no intellectual contemplation required as to how I can be better because in those hours that I work, I simply learn how to be. No distractions, and no excuses any more, and I need to get out of this town and figure out just what the hell this show is to be, and come back to Toronto with clarity, and everything intact, so that I can start performing here (and return to Montreal one month later, to perform it further)
My voice got stronger, the body more daring, while I went through this. I haven't had time to properly realize just what this means, and seven days from now, I'll have that opportunity (I just have to be elsewhere, to understand it properly)
I wonder where Maia is.