Some books I read small pieces of in my room in Vienna. Susan Sontag’s Regarding the Pain of Others, a couple of books on Central Asia, several Dykes to Watch Out For comics, one Small Favours(?) comic, German lesbian sex-porn… and the first three or so chapters of Stone Butch Blues. Each time I have read some of this, (and would dearly love to own it) I can never get through the first chapter, her unsent letter without crying. As for the subsequent chapters, oh this book is harrowing for me, knowing somehow those who populate the pages, finding myself in some of them, seeing who I desire in others…
I’ve had some post-show blues, though met with equal amounts of excitement at my impending return to Zürich. I write this on the train, we are just leaving Linz HBF. I miss the rhythm of being with a group, each day the rehearsals and the familiarity of it all. I’m first greeted by much tiredness and oh, like something departing from me. And this is all mental and emotional though. What I think is most difficult is feeling the performance and weeks leave my body. Or rather, it is not so passive. My body covers up these weeks, most obviously healing torn skin and bruises, less visible but no less real is the diminishment of how the inside feels from these weeks. My ankles no longer so fragile, shoulders, back, all this gradually dissipating. This is the hardest thing, to feel all this depart.
…
Zürich… later this week Freiburg to see my beautiful Daniel and Paea. I feel a impelling need to get back to Berlin and commence.
