It's showtime, baby.
Well, not for me. Not yet. My showtime, the true test to see if there is a drop of creative blood left in my body, comes later tonight. Tonight, as I sit with a bottle of Jameson at my left and a pack of Camel Lights at my right, I am put through the artistic ringer... Tonight, as I sit trying to write a ten minute show by eight a.m. tomorrow with suggestions pulled out of hats, put there by sadistic audience members that really love to watch writers squirm.
They don't really, but I will curse them in such a way in the small hours of this morning, when I'm not even close to finished and everything I have is shit. We shall see, my friends, we shall soon see...
A good friend said last night that 'good sketch writing' means that every line, every last word adds something to the plot, furthers the character, and is funny. That's a lot of pressure, per word. I'm not positve my rusty artist bones are going to be able to withstand the assault.
...And I have yet to mention that I probably won't even start writing until two this morning, because it is the last show of my friend's band, so I have to drag my exhausted self out to a bar.
...And try and get two of my friends laid, one of whom has no place to stay because I didn't call two days ago to confirm the hotel reservations I made for him?
Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. It's going to be an interesting evening.
About Me
- This Exquisite Madness
- Reno, Nevada, United States
- I have no idea where I'm going and even less of a clue how to get there.
4 comments:
Lauren -- you had it correct the first time: sadistic audience members.
(Seriously -- who the fuck thinks about Bob Dole and Minators? Is it just me, or do both those seem completely out of place?)
You may feel like you failed when you didn't get a woman on my cock, but alas! You didn't let me down! You probably don't know, but I had a love affair on Friday evening with the audience. We both know that's WAY better than the Slutty Dorothy we saw at the Reef...
Don't feel bad about the hotel either. You have the rest of your life to make it up to me.
And yes, it's 3:46AM. I'm wide awake and I don't have anyone to walk circles with...
I slept away my entire Sunday. I'm not kidding, I was dead to the world until five thirty p.m.
The audience loved you right back, kid. You were practically slathered in their admiration.
Like I said, the show was funny. Not very smart, but funny. My show was the guy you take home after one too many beers... The one who isn't very good looking and who happens to think Plato is just a toy, but who made you laugh about the time he got his hand stuck in a toaster...
And I ramble. Because I have no one to walk circles with either...
...hand stuck in toaster...ha ha ha
Well, that's what my show felt like. It could have been so much better... Next time, will sleep.
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