Hullo, me hearties.
It's been a couple of months since I last updated my journal, so I've decided to sit down for a spell and write a few lines about what I've been gathering lately.
2013 so far is an uncharted sea I've been shyly sailing, and unveiling the most quaint of things, happenings and people when looking closely to its waters. Since the year began, I've been working weekly with my hurdy-gurdy as a street performer, and I am receiving a generally positive feedback which is steadily diminishing my natural displeasure harboured against the company of people. I released a single, I met wonderful folk, had terrible fallouts with some, attended a lovely medieval feast, and another not so pleasant one a couple of weeks ago. I got to play with another band in a stage, and I sang a Greek song for the most awful crowd I have ever seen. I dyed my hair, I recorded hurdy-gurdy tracks for a fellow musician who really needed a friend, and I became acquainted with talented visual artists whose works inspired me greatly. I recorded videos, I opened up an Ask.fm (Est-ce que a Femme?) account, and found a way to interact with a fanbase I never knew I actually had. I took pictures, played harp in parks for no-one to listen to, and sold many CDs. I discovered new music, old music, traditional music and had insightful conversations with younger people about gender identity and transphobia, and I got invited to participate in a compilation album about transgender musicians, which I am rather excited to see it done.
And yet, all the while I've been mustering my personal army to face this war that is the releasing of "Schadenfreude". It is as if I have only been distracting myself, to avoid facing the final stages of this enterprise, which is so close to an end. Something in which I've been working since 2009, admittedly the most important and relevant thing to come out of my heart and mind, shadowing all the work I've put up until this day, as if it was a mere essay of the trade, to help me perfect that which means the most to me, and must be delivered into the world in the most perfect, polished and minutely-crafted way I am able to offer. More frightening than the content of the album itself is the feeling of emptiness that ultimately will come after: what to do then? Where to go? Where now? Will I survive it? What will be left of me? I do not know the answers to any of these questions. And that is dreadfully scary. It's been a manic rollercoaster in a way, and a dismal landscape in the other, a colourful rush passing through a bleak emptiness. Why does it always has to be this duality?
It's been interesting to distract myself with these little nothings, but they can only do so much, and go so far. September is approaching, and "Schadenfreude" comes swiftly. I haven't actually considered what will be like to have you all peering into the last secrets only water knows. It will all be stripped naked, to the bare bones. It will all go downhill from this point on.