So, you thought you might like to go to the show?

NEED to start putting my house in order for tonight's show.

I really have no idea what will happen. Dan the fiddler says that he's going to turn up and play. I have my finger crossed on that one.

I wrote in my last post about viewing this gig with trepidation. I still do. I seem to be running through a crisis of confidence.

But I also have a lot of anger building up in my gut. I hope that I will find a way to channel this tonight. Anger is a poison. I hate it. It needs to be purged.

I may also, finally, meet the mysterious Mobile Oracle tonight. This person I have never met nor know what they look like, might be in attendance. The deal is this, if she's there I have to pick her out of the crowd using only my instinct. Scarecrow senses.

I have no idea what will happen. I do sense the end of an era though. The snow we have in London at the moment, blown in from north is but the second coldest thing in town. The other is harder countenance. Nothing is more frustrating than when people assume they know or understand what drives the artist to make art or what drives the performer to perform. The guess of the dilletente always assumes that trials and tribulations must feed the creative process. It does not. The story goes way, way back. You have no idea. You, have no idea.

"STOP! I want to go home. Take off this Uniform and leave the show. And I'm waiting in this cell because I have to know. Have I been guilty, all this time?"