The Moving Finger

Who would have thought time alone to do whatever I wish would result in doing too much of whatever I wish. As Janis Joplin once said, "Where the hell's my Southern Comfort?"

Or even more appropriately, "Freedom's just another word for 'dem ol' cosmic blues mama". I can utterly relate. Sometimes that's the problem with thinking. It leads me where I have no business going. Like the cooking section of Barnes & Noble, or any kitchen store, or indeed anyplace that has to do with food except grocers and restaurants.

I don't cook. I don't hunt. I don't camp. 200 years ago, I'd've been dead. Or the founder of Safeway.

When I think, which is quite frequently, I must always be sure to put my mind on the proper things or I will end up blowing three days like I just did. In addition to performing comedy, I also write it, although you probably can't tell from this blog. Like every comedian will tell you, it is of the utmost importance to keep a notebook and write things down constantly, before you forget them. It does no good whatsoever to write them down after you forget them, unless you're James Patterson.

I do write things down, sometimes even before I have an idea, which is why I ended up doing 6 minutes on my shopping list last time I took the stage. The problem I have is organizing them in a coherent manner so that my monologues make a direct path from funny bit to funny bit, rather than from "Huh?" to "lol", which expression is very hard to make work verbally. It usually means my audience is texting during my act, something I find lots more distracting than the schmoes who do that during a movie.

A few years ago, I did a routine for a bloggers convention and they didn't laugh once. They just flashed "lol" on the screen behind me with PowerPoint. I had to keep turning around to find out how I was doing. I think they were "lol"ing behind my back.


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