Interstitial time and a New Teacast ep
 
Time and space are funny and daunting abstractions. In some ways I ignore both on a regular basis. I don't need to check my emails til later. I don't feel the need to claim a part of the world as my own. Carrying my own little nest with me means I feel pretty relaxed when I travel for gigs or plant myself in a new city. If I've got my banjo and some clean underwear, a door to close against the world and decent wifi, I tend to feel relatively comfortable. That said, there's about a week left for me here in Melbourne before I throw myself into a whole new round of uncertain prospects in uncertain places. Trying to get gigs in a new place is the equivalent of cold calling. You're flipping a foreign phone book to sell ideas and time to strangers who - a) have established supply chains; and b) might not want to buy at all. I'm not big on money, but some of it IS necessary for not starving to death in another hemisphere. Because festivals take a relatively long time to sort out the hundreds of acts and their venues and their expenses, I won't find out for a little while how much time-in-London my time-in-Melbourne has bought me. By the time I find out, I'll already have launched myself into that place without a cord. And I say I don't like gambling. Here's the time to say something dreadfully American about believing in myself and authenticity etcetera, but to be frank I've seen acts better than I am struggle to pay rent. I don't know what believing in myself will do, other than being (on an existential philosophy level) sort of a cop-out. I'm not big on faith as a virtue. What I am big on, is death. Knowing time is limited, to an unknown degree, gives effort in the moment value. Which is to say the question is if not now, when? If not here, where? The answer is, in a week, Sydney. In two weeks, New Zealand. In three and a half weeks, London. After that, time will tell. Also, my new podcast with Alex Edelman is up. Chiz!