Ah, Karma

I should have known better than to make fun of the non-traditional wheel. Though in my defense, I did restrain myself and try to point out some of its positive points. In the end, however, the Circus Gods would have none of it. I would get my comeuppance swiftly, and in front of an audience of over a thousand people. And for it to really count, it would be the night the staff from the Lido was to attend the show.

I often mention the more disastrous performances. The ones riddled with technical glitches and costume malfunctions. But this show was different. I felt off from the start and never managed to get back on.

Of course it didn't help that a good chunk of the cast and crew had their substitutes come in, or in the case of P, take over from his substitute. Among those picking up the slack, was B, the guy who replaces the pianist and composer. I remember back in St-Quentin there was a bit of a problem with one part of my music so I made sure to go over it with him prior to the show. So you can imagine my surprise when, getting into the groove of my act, the music starts a good 30 or 40 seconds early. The other musicians, of course, had no choice but to follow.

Thrown completely off guard and left extremely unsettled, I spent the next 6 minutes chasing the music. The number was terrible. I was in a panic the whole time, I was messy, I made a number of stupid mistakes and just wanted the act to be over.

Afterward, I had to endure comments of "you scared me when the wheel wobbled, don't ever do that again" and "wow, your number seemed better tonight. It wasn't as slow as usual". And my favourite, "Oh? There was a problem with the music?"

The musicians were oblivious to the fact that the music was not at all with the number and T left me feeling like my act, when done in a way that feels authentic to me, is slow and wrong. That I should be in a panic all the time. Great.

I was so angry. Those responsible for hiring me at the Lido got to witness a mediocre number (we hired her? Aieee...) and now I'm completely questioning how I am on stage. That state of questioning plagued me the entire show. I wanted so badly to redeem myself that I became hyper-aware of everything I was doing, judging myself as I went along. And that right there, is artistic suicide.

The whole show I went from feeling bad to worse. There were times I just wanted to burst into tears I felt so ill at ease on stage.

And yet, today, with 12 or so hours distance from that crap show, I don't feel quite so bent out of shape about it. Which is a relief and a welcome change of character for me. I'm curious to see what tonight's show will bring...