It's tough to know what to write about. Lot's of things go on in my life, and it's hard to know which are actually relevant. I guess I'll start with comedy:
I got into the Festival. That's actually really important news, and I'm super psyched. But also at the same time, it freaks me out badly. I'll be producing a show (self producing is still technically producing), which I've never done before. I still have to rent (they called renting "hiring" here. It's fucking goofy) a venue, come up with a title, verify visa details, and take a set of photos for the show's theme within the next 3 weeks. Oh, and beyond that, I need to write about another 15 minutes. I'm not so much worried about the comedy; I know it's mostly all there, and what isn't will come within the next 5 months. I still don't have a title yet. I've been considering something dumb like "Dan Juola Conquers Melbourne" and then take photos of me pretending to take over places American military style with lot's of spectators ridiculing. But I'm also considering being more genuine, like "Becoming Melbourne" and have a description of everything that I've been through to get to where I am, and how I feel like a Melbournian. It's less gimmicky, and there's more honesty in that title. The way I've been organizing the show is by just putting together all the bits I've been working on written on post it notes, and arranged on my wall. I've attached a picture of the process, which is neato torpedo!
Being here is certainly weird. I knew I wanted to move, but I didn't know if it was going to be permanent. Now here I am with inroads, and friends. I very much miss Minneapolis, but Melbourne has become to feel like home. I'm sure I'd leave if I had the option to stay. Melbourne is definitely will always be a home away from home now. I can't imagine this being my last Melbourne Festival.
I'm not looking forward to the extreme heat that's coming. Spring has brought variable weather, which I'm fine with. Melbournians winge quite often. I don't worry too much about it. I went to the beach yesterday. City beaches tend to suck, and while they're better than any of the oceanic beaches of Minneapolis ("Oh I see what you did there"), they still kinda suck. I'm going to have to get a job soon in order to do the festival, but I really want to travel. I may have to postpone my trips around the country due to cash. Ideally, I could get a halfway decent bar job during the day that paid under the table, but that's probably too much to ask for. Realistically, I'll just go to Melbourne Central and hand out my resume to everywhere I would even remotely consider working. I think if I work until January or February and I can get by. As long as I can get about a grand a month I can live off what I've got. I know I'll be getting tax and super annuation (mandatory retirement fund, paid by employers), so that will set me up for when I get back to the States.
I think I should include more than just scratch the surface of my life bullshit in this post. Part of why I don't write often is that I know it's just "these are random events in my life blah blah blah" that I find utterly dry and unuseful, which is apparently not a word. This sabbatical has entailed a lot of soul searching that I did not fully expect. Well, it's not that I didn't expect it, it's that it manifests in ways that are unexpected. On election day a couple of months back, I had a hard night of drinking, took a cab home, passed out, and woke up to see that I'd thrown up during the night, but hadn't woken up (gross). The first thought I had was christ that's gross I need to clean that up. But as I got to thinking about it, the more disturbed I became. That's the kind of thing that people die from. Hell, I've know people who've died that way. I could have died. While I haven't stopped drinking, it's definitely been a wake up call (which is ironic, because I didn't wake up to throw up (gross)). I mean, I've already been concerned with mortality lately, and that kind of event stares you right in your fucking face. The invincibility was a myth.
Something tells me that that last paragraph contains a very funny, very dark joke.
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