5th August
Today it rained, and Edinburgh started to morph into its true state: glistening, saturating, oppresive grey. From pavement to sky. I squelched along, trying not to look up at the posters. I don't want to know who has four million stars. It only ever demoralises. I know a lot of these people who get endless 5 stars. They're good, they have worked hard. But if it wasn't for the fact that they had an uber-powerful management agency, they wouldn't get a single review. Praise is always lavished on the people that need it least. "Free to those who can afford it. Very expensive to those who can't."
Slightly more demoralising was a young comic I was on a morning bill with. The promoter kissed him on the head. When I was a bit younger and showed some kind of promise he used to give me suffocating hugs. Those have stopped. Up til now I didn't care, now it seems significant. Like when Jude Law's Alfie gets dumped by the older woman for a younger woman. The fact that I'm referencing Alfie here worries me, but it was an odd form of jealousy, but feelings generally get odd. Then this 23 year old went on and did very well. I knew he was good because I sat there and wondered what all the fuss was about. He told lots of stories about sex he had had. How can a good comic realistically get so much sex? I pondered this a little. I'm sure for most comics, comedy is a release for their insecurities. There was a comic I know a little of already called Lindsay Sharman. Really brilliant! Commits wholely to the material. I could watch the shit out of her. She's not doing an hour this year. Shame.
I realised I was getting annoyed by the relative merits of others, so it was time to leave. I ejected myself from comedy, did a supermarket shop and listened to Radio 4 to reset the brain. Later at my gig, I improvised a lot of stuff about my brain, how it was like an overprotective, vindictive mother, also about the fear that I may throw myself off a cliff on a whim. Oh, and punting a baby out of a window. It REALLY connected with people. Or maybe because I honestly meant it. I will develop it today and try it tonight, possibly to bemused silence. This is what happens when you tamper with the truth. A word in the wrong place seems to change everything. Ah comedy, you are a frustrating bastard sometimes.
My show was quieter (in both audience number and laughter) than yesterday and I struggled to keep any kind of momentum. People said they enjoyed it after, but what I think they enjoyed were the moments when I relaxed and got on with it. There were some nice moments, but these were hard won. I need to LEARN my show.After the gig I needed a drink and there was nothing doing with the Canadian. If I make an unsuccessful pass at the venue manager, that's 3 awkward weeks ahead. Even if I manage to sleep with her somehow, ditto. I like pretending that me backing off is shrewd, as opposed to cowardly! Nice one, Ed. Delusion working its magic I see!
I met up with my Edinburgh flatmates and went to a disco at the Gilded Balloon. It's basically just the Magic FM playlist padded out with a weak "Hot Dub Time Machine" theme. A section of a song from 1955-today, with a Chinese air hostess introducing each era. Not very authetnitc. For Chuck Berry's "Johnny B Goode" they used the Back to the Future scene. For Rick James, they took a segment of the Chapelle show. It was like the Scottish kilt. Inauthetic. Sometimes you have to look at the screen and follow the moves and, because they assumed that loads of people would be there who were growing up in the late 80s, they played the theme tunes from Never Ending Story and Ducktails rather than classic hits of the same year. I got chatting to a cute barmaid but then my brain reminded me that she was paid to be nice. She was also attractive and young, and that reminded me of a terrifying girl I slept with, so I bugged out. Then I looked at a tall, sweet looking girl dancing away and just never made a move. It's not that I desperately wanted to, it's just that it felt like something I should have done. "Darling, why did you approach me that night when we met?" "Well darling, I saw you on the dancefloor and thought 'That's something that I should do.'" Later on the tall girl fixed me with a slightly reproachful stare. Possibly I imagined it. Yeah, I probably did. I'm quite dramatic!
It's odd how I don't act. I guess that the girls I've gone out with I have just gravitated towards, or vice versa. I guess it's interesting for my show: I know that women love confidence, and that really doesn't help. It's like when I used to be afraid of dogs, someone said to me "Don't show any fear. Dogs can smell fear", which is the most unreassuring thing to say. "Hey you know those four legged things with sharp teeth? They're telepathic...well, have a nice day." I actually had the thought, "Hey, maybe I can do an Edinburgh show where I have to approach girls on the street and..." Such a comedian's/ writer's solution. Rather than just going and talking to someone I decide that by far the best thing to do is to turn it into a production! I have spent all of my bucket money on gin and tonics. Wise? No. Inevitable? Yep.
No comments:
Post a Comment