I'm in a hiding mood. I have been hiding a bit. The people I'm staying with went out for dinner and expected me to go off to my evening show. I didn't. I lay on my bed. When they came back, I stayed still. My room is over the top of the sitting room so I had to creep around to not be detected. There was no reason for me to do this. I have a small history of hiding when I feel awkward. On this occasion it's because I'm insanely tired again. The tiredness came from insomnia mixed with having a 3 year old boy staying here over the weekend. This child does not stop talking or making noise. Only for naps. To recharge his energy for more noises. It's all right for him. I can't nap. It's not personal. He's 3 and I'm almost 33 and am under stress. We're incompatible.
I went out on Thursday like I was supposed to. I ended up in the Loft Bar as expected and watched the successful comedians at play. They were mostly desperately drunk or looked bored. Like they were waiting for something to happen. Seann Walsh looked impatient with everyone. He was demanding cigarettes and respect. That's the place you're supposed to make contacts. I can't see it.
I looked at social media today. Everyone is having a great Edinburgh except for me. Okay. Patently, that's not true. Still, lots of people I know are getting very good reviews. Deservedly so, but still. I don't know how this is done. I think your show has to be either very slick or very funny or both. Mine are none of these things. They are disorganised and have funny bits. That should go on my tombstone: 'Disorganised but with funny bits'. I heard the audience for the improv show after my show. That was real laughter. Loud and sustained. Not like the titters I get. The biggest laughs I get are for not talking about history. Someone came up to me and said about the Rome show: "That was lovely." I'm not complaining, but that's all the accolades I can expect. This isn't about accolades. I don't know what this is about.
I can hear someone watching Moto GP downstairs. This is the problem with this room. It's unfinished. There is no insulation. You are at the mercy of the rest of the house. I don't mind hiding up here, but it doesn't feel like home. Neither does the flat I live in in London, and I have to move out of that in October. Nowhere does. The job I work in feels like a strange prison sentence. My shows feel like the an unnerving daydream. I am quite sure I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I have a vague idea that I will book a long weekend to La Rioja in September and just eat tapas. One of the guys who lives here said "Can I come?" and I said "Yes" because it's nice that someone else thinks I have a plan.
I'm not saying, incidentally, that my life is totally meaningless and unnerving - it just feels like that at this moment. It is almost certainly meaningless, but that's okay. I don't believe in God, but I do like the idea that he has a plan for all of us. Then we must be his software. What for? What are you up to, God, you weird bastard?
Tomorrow, I will go and do both of my shows. I will just follow through because I am booked in to do them. I will try not to think about it. I will just do the thing I am here to do.
I went out on Thursday like I was supposed to. I ended up in the Loft Bar as expected and watched the successful comedians at play. They were mostly desperately drunk or looked bored. Like they were waiting for something to happen. Seann Walsh looked impatient with everyone. He was demanding cigarettes and respect. That's the place you're supposed to make contacts. I can't see it.
I looked at social media today. Everyone is having a great Edinburgh except for me. Okay. Patently, that's not true. Still, lots of people I know are getting very good reviews. Deservedly so, but still. I don't know how this is done. I think your show has to be either very slick or very funny or both. Mine are none of these things. They are disorganised and have funny bits. That should go on my tombstone: 'Disorganised but with funny bits'. I heard the audience for the improv show after my show. That was real laughter. Loud and sustained. Not like the titters I get. The biggest laughs I get are for not talking about history. Someone came up to me and said about the Rome show: "That was lovely." I'm not complaining, but that's all the accolades I can expect. This isn't about accolades. I don't know what this is about.
I can hear someone watching Moto GP downstairs. This is the problem with this room. It's unfinished. There is no insulation. You are at the mercy of the rest of the house. I don't mind hiding up here, but it doesn't feel like home. Neither does the flat I live in in London, and I have to move out of that in October. Nowhere does. The job I work in feels like a strange prison sentence. My shows feel like the an unnerving daydream. I am quite sure I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I have a vague idea that I will book a long weekend to La Rioja in September and just eat tapas. One of the guys who lives here said "Can I come?" and I said "Yes" because it's nice that someone else thinks I have a plan.
I'm not saying, incidentally, that my life is totally meaningless and unnerving - it just feels like that at this moment. It is almost certainly meaningless, but that's okay. I don't believe in God, but I do like the idea that he has a plan for all of us. Then we must be his software. What for? What are you up to, God, you weird bastard?
Tomorrow, I will go and do both of my shows. I will just follow through because I am booked in to do them. I will try not to think about it. I will just do the thing I am here to do.
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