Visa delays and situational sadness, aka Bereft in Berlin
There are many good things about Starbucks: their coffee is pretty much always the same over-roasted blend everywhere (at least you know what you’re getting?), and you can always get free Internet, which is a boon when you’re out and about in a strange city. There are usually power outlets somewhere in the walls, though you might have to hover a bit. And the typical Starbucks is busy enough that nobody will notice you sitting in the corner crying.
I’m doing that right now. I’m totally happy with people ignoring me; I don’t think I could really handle a well-meaning stranger asking me if I’m okay. I’m sure I am okay, intellectually I know I am, but the reasons why I don’t feel okay would take too long to explain.
It’s just international bureaucracy in the end, a mismatch between what the visa processing web site says and what the harried but polite people in the visa-processing office said in person. I had planned to get back into the UK on Monday—with the 3-to-5 day processing window, that was optimistic, but hope thrives like a cactus on very little. But in the office this morning, after waiting an extra half-hour beyond when my appointment was scheduled, they informed me that it was actually five to seven business days for processing, and that did not include the amount of time it would take to courier the passport back to me.
So I will almost certainly be missing both the London and Bristol Smut Slams this month, and maybe even the one in Brighton, and I am a little taken aback by how much that upsets me. I think my co-producers can pull together the show just fine—they’ve been watching my shenanigans for three months now, and the structure is of course easy enough to follow—but I hate being away from the slams at this critical point in their development.
We’re starting to getting regulars at those events, and I think they want to see me, in part, and I know I like seeing those people and knowing that I know people. This is where it starts feeling personal. Do you know how hard it is for me to get to know people? Everyone knows me but I don’t know anyone, and that was just starting to change, in all those different cities, but now there’s this fucking glitch and I have to wait until May.
And then, I didn’t plan to be here in Berlin past April 9, so obviously I didn’t plan anything to DO. I don’t do tourist stuff; I don’t care about architecture. Maybe I’ll try out some baked goods and Turkish kebabs. But really, the thing that I enjoy the most about touring, besides the performing aspect, is meeting people, and I don’t mean in bars. I mean, I want to do the things that I know how to do—performances, Smut Slams, Sidewalk Smut—and then start conversations with people that way, and then we get to talk. My performances are this week, and that’s it, and then I have at least four days hanging empty in front me.
It’s not that I have nothing to do. Patreon. Videos. Catching up on social media and all the assorted admin. Sidewalk Smut, I guess, if I can find a useable typewriter and table/chair combo to borrow. It’s still a bit chilly here, but I can wear my Lumberjack Lingerie ™ and find some fingerless gloves and do a few evenings. Hell, I could be really decadent and spend a few hours a day working on my next show (“Cameryn Moore Is HEARTH-CORE”).
I’ve got lots of stuff to do, I guess, but it’s not what I had planned, and I was just starting to find my feet, get my routine in the UK. Now I just feel lost and terrified all over again.
Normally I have some fun way of phrasing this, but today I’m drained. I got nothing. Become a patron of mine over on Patreon, and help me build the Cameryn Moore network of heartfelt, sex-aware performance and community. You support my work; I pop you over some exclusive videos every now and then. It’s a weird little relationship, but it works.