And Just Like That ... (Patreon)

How should I craft this message? I agonized. 

And as I sat there – 

PING! 

A message from Dorothee landed in our chat.

[DOROTHEE]
<<Nothing from Gregory but I sent your video to the Apollo Varieté>> she wrote. <<They do 'theme shows'>>

[ESS]
<<Great!>> I replied. <<Thank you.>>

Did I have any idea with the Apollo Varieté was? 

No.

Under normal circumstances would I have immediately sprinted to Google and done a rapidfire research dive into the architectural and cultural history of whatever this place was?

Also yes.

Was today 'normal circumstances'? 

No.

I drew in a steadying breath, steeling myself for the message I didn't want to send, but knew I had to write:

[ESS]
<<...Do you think I should release the end of September/October dates, then, since there's nothing from Gregory?>> I asked hesitantly. 

[ESS]
<<Or would you like me to try to hold off until Monday for a definite answer one way or the other?>> I continued. <<Frank and Peter are pushing me hard for answers because of the videogame contract I'm doing right now – they're still asking for more dates to book me.>>

One minute ticked by.

Two minutes.

Three.

Then – 

PING!

[DOROTHEE]
<<Do the videogame!>>

My breath caught in my chest.

"Do the videog–" my indignation kicking in instantly. 

Did she even read m–? 

That contract is already happening, I was asking if – 

Oh, nevermind. 

The answer is actually the same, no matter her response in this chat, I realized.

I guess that's that. This is how it ends. After all that PUSH ... 

You have your answer.

That's ...

... that's it.

A dusty bitterness rolled through me, tempered with a soft, defeated kind of acceptance. Dorothee's words – coupled with the cold, hard reality of knowing that we would've been told if the act was wanted by this point in the month, from Gregory – confirmed what I had hoped against hope wouldn't come true.

[ESS]
<< Okay. >> I replied anti-climactically. 

Well. I guess it's over, then.

I sat down and closed my eyes, breathing gently through my nose. 

I let the realizations sink down into my chest like smooth stones through the waters of a still, clear pond:

No Zurich.

No Moulin Rouge.

No Paris, not this fall, anyways.

And no Festival next spring.

I kept breathing, slowly, evenly.

In...

Out...

In...

Out...

In...

All that work.

You didn't need to rush.

You didn't need to push yourself so hard.

You didn't need to make it so hard on yourself.

You wouldn't be so tired now.

You could've had an easier time with this if you'd just known that the timing didn't matter.

Maybe the work would've been better.

In...

Out...

In...

Out...

In...

Slowly, slowly, new thoughts trickled in.

You still made something good, though.

Yeah, you did.

You still tried, though.

That's worth something.

People liked it.

Yeah, they did, didn't they?

Maybe this is just the start of something.

It could be, couldn't it?

Think of all the places this idea could go.

There's a lot I can do with it.

It was hard but something beautiful came of it.

That's true.

Maybe you wouldn't have gotten what you ended up with without the pressure of that creation intensive. You don't know. You'll never know. All you know is that you've got something you can keep moulding, exploring, researching, pushing ... 

This doesn't have to be the end. 

* * * * *

And so it goes, dear patrons. 

It's not the ending we hoped for, but it also doesn't have to be the ending.

I've sat with the feelings.

I felt them all.

And now it's time to move forward.

Thus, I am left with:

"Okay, Ess. This one's off the table. You tried, and it didn't work out. But you fucking tried your heart out. Now you need to ask yourself: what do you want next?"

You'll find out next week.
Thanks for being along for this ride with me.

Stay strange & wonderful – 

* * * * *
XO XO XO Ess