If there's one thing that you should watch for in Edinburgh, it's letting the place bite you in the arse. If you let your guard down or get complacent, it will take a chunk out of you. Today I put on shorts. The sun was suspiciously ruling over the sky. The clouds waiting in the wings. "Come and play, Ed" said the sun. "Yes, dig out those shorts. All will be well." I climbed up from our place to the Burns monument. A very pretty panorama awaited me after a lovely waft of wild flowers. Just as my heart rate started to drop, the rain clouds ambushed me, the air chilled and it started to bucket it down. Edinburgh knows there are comics here. Even the weather systems feed reflect the all-pervasive manic depression. I seem to remember that being called pathetic fallacy. Nice one Mr Chidlaw. You taught me so much for which I have no useful outlet.
I had had a very turbulent sleep again. My bed is soft and saggy. You can be comfortable, but I shudder to think of what damage it is doing to my already warped spine. I awoke with a blistering hangover at 8am and then fell back to sleep only after the inducements of mobile phone youtube and weetabix. I used to think of sandcastles to lull me to sleep. Now I think of Napoleanic memoribillia, muskets, artillery and suchlike. I may complain about the all too sporadic presence of women in my life, but the fact that I get any is a fucking miracle.
After giving up the search for a legendary Tesco Metro which is supposed to be near our flat, I then went on a quest for WIFI. I paid a whopping £2.50 for a Starbucks coffee only for the WIFI to fail after 20 minutes. The staff shrugged. It's outrageous. Why do they actually think that any one who likes coffee goes into the place? Not for the piped jazz music. This is Edinburgh. Cheapskate writers need their WIFI.I finally found a free source in the performers centre. I was about to send out some press releases before spotting a hatchet job done on one of my flatmates. The reviewer (some turd basket from the Scotsman) said "This show was free. Frankly, I think that's too much.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Why is it that backseat comedians have more power than people who actually have the power to amuse? If hacks want to slag off a crumby phone app, fine. But rubbishing a stand up comedian just to flex a muscle is vindictive. No journalist in their right mind would give a poor review to anyone under the wing of a powerful agent, but they're happy to use unrepresented people as target practise. I hesitated before sending out emails. I want to make sure the show works. I can't give them an excuse to sharpen their knives on me. I decided to send out emails on Wednesday. This gives me two days to days to iron out problems with the show. All of a sudden I remembered a solitary man in the back row of yesterday's perfomance. I hope he was a loner and not a comedy reviewer, although in essence it's the same thing. All this is wishful thinking, of course. I highly doubt if the media will swing along to my show. I am rightfully ambivalent about the eventuality.The rain continued to pour and my saturated shoes turned into footspas. I made changes to my show and was late leaving the house. Flyering was never going to be effective in this weather. People have umbrellas in their hands and aren't minded to stop. The umbrella almost provides a zone of protection from incoming flyers. Shields up! Even so, I only managed 30 minutes of it under a bridge. Flyering, that is.
Four Swiss people were joined by a middle-aged woman who wants to start comedy. The show started off very informally and then four Scottish people came in. Although the crowd were the smallest so far, they were incredibly appreciative. Barely a line failed and I actually felt very lucky to have them. They were enjoying themselves far too much, and so was I. One of the Swiss guys said "That wasn't funny. It was hilarious and brilliant. Brilliant and profound." They looked like a bunch of people who had had a superb hour. I asked them to write audience reviews and they agreed. Of course "hilarious, brilliant and profound" today could well be "shit, boring and clunky" tomorrow. I may be caught have been caught in shorts, but I've got my mental umbrella up.
The older woman was slightly less impressed. I think perhaps my liberal use of swearing put her off, and maybe lampooning my mother's advice. She put a pound in my bucket. "Listen to your mother" she said. Pssh. Open spots.
Called my friend Lottie for a chat. She's a depressive musician type who complains about the inauthenticity of stuff. She has a brilliant voice, is very amusing and a real tortured artist. She makes me look like Bambi. I like spending time with her, however. Some people put me in a good mood, regardless of what they say.
Off to see Tony Law tomorrow. The man is exceptional.
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