The good thing about Edinburgh is that it gives ambitious performers a chance to get around the system, all the while being a system itself, one at least as likely not to work as the one it theoretically gets around. By giving the appearance of meritocracy, it creates the sense that your future is in your own hands, so with no one to blame but yourself, you are free to move on, knowing you have done all you can. Or continue to fight the theoretically good fight. As you prefer.

It’s almost Buddhist or Hindu. Something eastern, anyway. A perfect illusion; summer camp as proving ground.

Certainly, it’s an equal opportunity deluder. Everybody thinks they’re participating in something that works. The lazy journalists who rely on unnecessary, highly paid PR reps think they are doing their jobs. The rapacious venue owners genuinely love theater and tell themselves their usurious landlord status is just the thing. The promoters know the incompetent talent ought be grateful for the scraps of their attention. And the acts know if they just spend the money required, with the prodigious talent they already have, they will be assured their place in heaven.

All this is bullshit, of course, but the month itself, the time you spend doing what you do, in a city that also does what you do, is its own reward. It’s just that there are eleven other months to get through where this is not the case.

For me, this year, it has been twelve full months. I am unmoored.

But it reminds me that I (and you too, really) have to do something and not rely on any system. But it’s hard. I mean, it’s 11:50am and I’m still naked.

In a few minutes, when I post this, it will be about the time the last performance of my 2013 show would have been ending.

I wonder when I’ll be dressed again.

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