yesterday's afternoon-to-evening work shift was notable in that i'm underperforming, have probably lost my w££kly bonu$ already. the unboosted wage is awful, but i'll live. fact is, since there's been a regime change there, the place is becoming less appealing by the day. casuals like myself are making big exodus right now. what we need to do is get a second monthly ICFTHS happening - allegedly in paris, but more realistically, london. if we cd make a success of that i cd quit work entirely, devote my days to writing etc. 'quality of life'.
currently redrafting the film, lacklove. is a big job, no breeze. 80pp of chronological fragments... spent much of work shift scribbling on it and musing, trying to get a grip on enormity of it, contain the timeline and the relative relations between actions in my head. all but impossible. suppose i'll just have to zero in on corners, nibble away till micro-changes accumulate. texture and character are fine, but needs a lot more narrative shape. gonna be a struggle, but i'm determined to have it done by end of month, at which point i'll hopefully have heard from theatre - whether they want me to a)pursue last play, b)work on one of my suggestions, or c)fuck off and die.
when i finished my shift last night, made the long walk to drivey's place, bathed in monitor light until the early hours of the mo, finished the ICFTHS MAY/JUN/JUL poster. it rules. it's completely anti-summer. many will hate.
oh, i don't think i mentioned, but we put up the ICFTHS slideshow for 'ecstatic bedroom parties everywhere' (i'm quoting myself!) there are slides created by many creative types and, um, moi. my favourite is 'i work in a call centre', which takes us neatly back to the beginning...