Here's a song to listen to whilst you read my blog, I hope you enjoy it:
I didn't bring my notepad with me this time round. After arriving, I ordered a drink and then one more before I took to the stage. Drink in hand I do my bits. I had already started drinking before I left home so a lot more hate and bile comes out than intended. I manage to pluck skits that I have refused to use in the past, as there's only thirty or so people watching and I have liquid courage to back me up. Everyone laughs, but that's a given, in my mind it was a lukewarm reception.
I've managed to go out almost every night since I wrote my first blog, so it stands to reason that the only night that I don't socialise with people is going to be a bit tougher, especially considering that it's on the eve of my 20th birthday. After staying at the club for another twenty minutes to knock back two more drinks I made my way home, boldly texting women I shouldn't be texting. I don't think I'd make a very good alcoholic as after the first week of heavy texting, I'd realise that all of my ex-girlfriends are not interested in sleeping with me again. Chances are I'd just commit suicide. I think it's better to think there's a small chance they'd still suck my dick, otherwise I would be in a deep, dark place.
The whole night had an odd vibe to it, nobody came up to me afterwards to say they liked my jokes. Maybe it's because I chose to not sit at a bar, but instead in a corner stall that faces a bare wall. Maybe it was because I just wasn't that funny. Comedians talk about how they'd do a show and get great audience feedback then a day later do the same show somewhere else and die on their arse. That's yet to be true for me, maybe I need a much larger audience as it seems easy to get an audience to like you, just a lot harder to have them love you.
I remember the first time I was heckled. I told a story that started with the line: "Honestly, sometimes I wish cancer would rip its way through my mother like tissue paper, just so she'd stop complaining." It's a cheesy line that I wouldn't use now, but it lead into bit that was fun to play with, as it gave me a chance to just make up bullshit about her on the fly.
So I say the line and wait for the laugh. Just long enough to know it's not coming. There's no collective gasp, but there's no laugh either. I go to continue, but a man stands up. He's in the second row and I can clearly see his face. I lose focus when I see him, forgetting the audience. We lock stares and without any irony he shouts "Boo!".
"Boo?, I think. "Wh-what?". I look at the audience dumbfounded, the man takes his seat whilst my brain goes into overdrive. I've got to think of something witty, something to get the audience back on my side. I look around the room before finally deciding on my retort. My riposte. My verbal annihilation of this man's character.
"Y-yeah?", I mumble into the microphone. The audience erupts with laughter. The show goes on and I dodge a bullet. Maybe one day I'll experience what all these hardened comics talk about, but right now comedy seems easy. Although it it's not like I'm challenging myself to begin with. It's not very difficult entertaining a Maidstone audience, I'm sure I could just throw a slinky into the crowd and get a similar response.
So, turning 20 is no mean-feat. A friend once told me that I'll die by my mid-twenties through drug overdose. If he's right, I think that now might be the time to start doing something constructive with my remaining few years. I had my first epiphany only a few days ago when I realised that I needed to start exercising. I went swimming with Nigel, managing around 25 lengths before crawling out of the pool using only my hips. I projectile vomited shortly afterwards and haven't felt well since, but I guess I'm going to have to get used to that if I'm going to become the strongest man that's ever lived.
My second epiphany has come in waves. Every few months I tell myself that I need to start participating with the world instead of just observing. After having made some calls to old friends and contacts from clubs I've worked at it seems like I'm the closest I've been to my ultimate goal in not being a waste of flesh, bone and muscle (lots of muscle).
Tomorrow I see a nark and his nark friends for a week. Then I'm going to focus my full attention on writing and performing, less of this shit that I've been slopping out semi-regularly. Let's see if I can craft myself into a mature adult, if only for a while.
Sam
*I've lied, it's pretty shitty.
Published at 23:45
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