October 17, 2008


Aska told me today that part of my job as tour manager is to tell them when their singing sucks. Unsolicited, she said. Just notify them. I said no, as "tour manager", I can't get involved. No critical commentary and no packing up backline. I gotta have rules, or else you die by the non-rules. I cannot soft pedal my opinions or hold them back in most situations, so really, lucky treat I can keep my yap shut for once. Xmas miracle perhaps. It is funny to be tagging along in the Euro, which seems opulent and worldly, and I cannot shake the feeling that I'm orbiting the unreal. Back home JR is feeding my cats for me, and I had my lowest paying week as a freelancer in years ($49.50, and huzzah to those weak American bucks) and I'm waking up tomorrow and living on someone elses dimes/pence in the second most expensive city in the world simply by virtue of the fact that I was available to leave the country for the rest of the month and my friends believed I had the skills required to untangle 64 pairs of headphones and remind them where we have to be and at what time. If I was at home I would be panicked, hustling for work, very possibly even a real-ish job, but instead I'm going to the wholesale flowermarket at 8 am for arrangements for the show and then Tuesday I go to Paris with my friends. I'm not fully into the relaxed gratitude part, it's more just the jetlagged over caffienated weirdness--baffled gratitude--and wondering what is the possible next? My life is an unholy WTF dream.

Posted by jessica hopper at October 17, 2008 08:09 PM | TrackBack