Thursday 14 July 2011

Come one, come all. Just one will do. Yeah, you.

Welcome.
I have no clue what this blog will be about. I haven't planned as far ahead as the next sentence let alone the next few months.
Shit-weasel (I think that took us all by surprise).
I suspect this will evolve into a kind of diary. Possibly even used as evidence at some point.
The authorities will no doubt ask those of you who read the blog why you didn't do anything to stop me. Consider that fair warning - you'll probably want to have a decent excuse prepared well in advance. "Schadenfreude" is always a good one. 
With that being said, let's crack on. 
 A sensible place to start, given this site, would be my stand-up.
Comedy is a relatively new addition to my life - joining the ranks of Werther's Originals, ear hair, and an overwhelming urge to  switch the lights off whenever I exit a room. 
I've been at it for over a month now and have performed a grand total of six times. Gigs, they're called. Gigs. I have to get over my aversion to the word and use it. Gigs. 
I threw myself into it to see if I could swim, approaching it with very much a 'nothing to lose' attitude. I totes did like, totes.

My Dad always told us kids that there was no point in doing things half-heartedly. His exact phrase: "If you're going to be a prick, you might has well be a complete prick".
With those words ringing in my ears, I set myself to it. 

I had (and continue to have) two primary goals - get some laughs and maintain an acceptable level of continence whilst on stage.  I can proudly boast that, at this point, I've achieved (at least 50% of) those goals.
 
The first four gigs were great - I started off with a set that relied on heavily on punchlines. That was fine - but there's always the risk that if you don't get a laugh when you expect one, you're on a downward slide. I'd yet to 'bomb' but I didn't feel as confident with the material as I would've liked. It was quite audience specific and dark at times....and I knew that sooner or later, I'd be performing to a quiet room.
I made a decision to put the punchlines on hold until I start doing longer sets and concentrate more on story-telling for the time-being. The first time I tested this was a couple of weeks ago. It was something that I'd come up with on the morning of the gig (in the shower....just to leave you with an unsavoury mental image), and although I felt relatively confident with it - I didn't have anything to begin and finish with. As a result, I felt it came across as a bit mixed up with the best material wedged in between a weak beginning and end. I wasn't overjoyed with that night, despite being assured I'd done well by friends and another couple of comedians.
  
And then came Monday night.... 

Halfway through my set on Monday is when something 'clicked' and I felt eerily at home on stage. The closest thing to an epiphany I've had in recent years. I've had epiphanos and even the occasional epiphanas...but not an epiphany.
Don't get me wrong - I had enjoyed the experience previously but the least enjoyable aspect was the performance itself. I loved the writing and the post-gig glow but the actual stand-up itself was a blur. It had been like a schizophrenia-simulation. On stage, I would be almost entirely focused on the voice in my head telling me what my next sentence was, rather than concentrating on getting the current line right. 

That changed on Monday night, when about two minutes in....I relaxed, and I loved it. I don't know why I relaxed - it certainly wasn't continence related, before you ask - but I just did.
 
The organiser of the night sat me down at the end of the night, the lights dimmed, the room began to empty.
He put his right hand on my shoulder and said "Dave, tonight you walked on that stage to 'do' stand-up comedy. When you walked off, however, you were a Stand-up Comedian".
A girl appeared from nowhere, kissed me on the cheek and gave me a card with her number scribbled on the back. She'd dotted the 'i' in her name with a love heart.
The organiser smiled, pulled an amulet on a chain from his pocket and placed it around my neck. 
And on whispering the words "Welcome, comrade, welcome", he disappeared into the shadows. 
That's not necessarily accurate, but only in relation to the facts. 
What did happen is this: He said "Fuck, you seemed to enjoy the second half of that". And then he told me to get myself a beer. 
However I am confident that if he had access to an amulet, or indeed an appreciation of what he'd just witnessed...it would have played out exactly as I previously described.

Tonight - gig number seven.

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