Hagaris the Handsome was in the house last night . I met him in the afternoon at a bar at which my friend Sian Hutchinson was performing her funny solo show. I went to there with Brooklyn Ukelele man Ben Lerman and his mates. Ben and I went to the bar to get some coffee and this Viking impersonator cat Hagaris, was having a big glass of scotch and telling no one in particular about an american woman’s show he had seen.
So I took that as an opening to give him my flyer.
I tried to pretend I wasn’t Marga Gomez just her flyer girl but you can’t pull the angora over Hag’s eyes and then he asked if he could take a picture I said -really?- Then he leaned in got close to my mouth as I squirmed away. And he froze there and then I stared at him freezing there. No camera by the way. It was very lizard like the whole thing. He was in my front row that night. I wasn’t surprised.Well he bought a ticket so he tended to talk to me now and then during the show. Unfortunately his story was a sad one. He lives in Glasgow. He wants to go back with his ex wife. They got married in toronto and more stuff I didn’t want to hear.. That almost sucked all the funny out of the room but the audience and I worked together as a team to get the comedy back. Even the tech person told me it was the best show so far.
I like to say hi to everybody after shows and most people are great and respectful but there are a few grabby people here who may ruin this practice. In the lobby Hagaris put his hat on my head- then took it back. I don’t like to have old man hats placed on my head. One woman ran her hand along my face. I literally flinched. But I thought to myself well maybe it’s the scottish culture then she starts talking and she’s like from OHIO!! Not cool. Not as bad as last weekend at a club when another woman grabbed my face with one hand and then poked her finger in the gap between my teeth with the other. WTF? I’ll be bobbing in weaving out of innapropriate touching for the next 2 weeks here in Edinburgh.
Last night I saw a shooting star on the way back to my flat about 1am. Part of the metor shower I think. Thanks to the universe for that.
My bedding issued at our cell block/student housing
King Arthur's Seat: I can see it on the way to my gig
Week one of the Edinburgh Fringe was spent searching for internet, trying to figure out sodium content on european labels, Learning to live with roommates; two gay solo performers and a 75 year old comedienne stripper who has become the toast of Edinburgh and wrote her name on her toilet paper so we don’t use it. I understand, that’s how I feel about my ambien and coffee filters. There is one more roommate who’s over 60 and she’s just starting out in comedy. So I’m the young chick. But we never see the two senior ladies who stay out till 3 am every night.
the hip hop bagpipe shop
Oh yes I also opened my show at the Zoo Southside on Nicolson st and got 4 stars from “The List” an important publication in these parts. They called me “Absurdly Brilliant.” They also said my Gold Lame jacket and matching boots were ridiculous. But that is so not true- my boots don’t match the jacket at all.
Edinburgh is a lose money deal usually and I’m in the usually category. Last time I played this festival was 1994. I had a rich producer, full court press, my own one bedroom flat and spending money. Now I’m broke as a joke having to put up my own posters. My producer this time is a clown. At first I was in denial. I thought his act was juggling and magic. When anybody asked me about my clown producer I snapped “Where’s his fucking red nose then?”But at his show last night he made balloon animals. And he is never without his little red brimmed pork pie hat. Pretty sure my producer is a clown. They don’t always have red noses.
In the queue to pitch their shows to the Edinburgh press.
I went to a very hip party for lesbians and friends last week called Velvet. They invited me to perform a few minutes and afterwards I gave out flyers, accepted a beer, made some new friends and invited myself over to their house for Sunday Roast. As I left the club I said to some other girls- I’ll see you here next Saturday but one lass sadly told me “This party is only once a year” (you imagine the scottish brogue)
So that leaves CC Blooms for semi lesbian night life. It’s got a reputation as grim -like one of those dives we come out in to make sure we’re serious about being gay. Anyone can come out in a pretty bar.I tried handing flyers outside of this place but gave up after a table of dykes (and two pit bulls) thought that I was performing at an actual zoo.
Scotty tries on my Tartan at the Velvet paty