As a person scarily obsessed with stand-up comedy, you would expect me to be a fervent and adequate audience member as well. Unfortunately, even I do still make mistakes. This has nothing to do with embarrassing behaviour at gigs (I'm way too awkward for that) but actually getting to the gig has turned out to be a lifelong struggle. You see, I'm no star at timekeeping. I'm either far too early or way too late. There is no middle ground. I used to only be anywhere too late. Now I have added to my non-existent time-keeping skills the notion of Early. I still mess up my own life.
Today I tried to go to a gig, a late night one, in central Brighton near the pier. I was there, I was 15 minutes too early, I cycled past the venue, right through the smoker's area, locked my bike, walked back, got to the front door, got stepped on by a drunk, apologised, got in, waited for three minutes at the box office, got stepped on again by the same drunk, apologised again only before being told that the show was sold out. Lucky me. So I cycled back in my high visibility hoodie (it's bright yellow. A mixture of cream and Saffron. Yes, custard. But it glows in the dark. You can't touch me Bike-light Inspector Man!)
The day before I tried to go to the same gig, only it started at 8, and at 7.45 I was still trying to get some food I'd frozen in to defrost and by the time I got to
my laptop to check the clock, it was 5 past. No use in going there anymore.
Two days before that, there was this gig not far from where I live and I got there 45 minutes early. I ended up walking a large circle around the venue, listening to my iPod, trying not to look like I'd assault anyone (cos that's my main fear. Not that I might get assaulted (I'm marginally too tall and imposing for that(...back of my head goes: huh, arrogant! Which is slightly unfair. I am a bit taller than your average person here so shut up, back of my head!)) but that people might think I'd assault them. Weird thought but there you go. 15 minutes before it started, I got in to the pub where the thing would take place. I ordered a drink and sat in a corner reading a paper, waiting for it all to kick off. I waited some more, and some more and finished my Guinness that I had intended to take up with me to the gig, when a lady came up to me and thought: 'Hey! He looks lonely! He must be here for the comedy!' (as you know; I was). She then told me that I was one of five people here for the gig. And I've been at gigs with less than five people in (especially at the fringe) but this time, the lady wasn't sure whether to carry on. She'd give it another ten minutes whilst I was so bored, I started fake-texting again (bad habit). After the ten minutes she told me they wouldn't go for it after all; which was fair enough I suppose. So home again I went without having been an audience member again.
But it can be worse. This year, at the fringe, I tried to see Robin Ince´s early show 5 times. I missed every one of them.
1. I got there on time, half an hour early even. So I rushed to a shop to buy a European Plug Adapter for my computer. I ran back, got in to the pub only to find the stairs closed off with a red cord and the words: Performance In Session hanging off it on some paper (not just words, suspended in the air! What are you thinking?)
2. I got there half an hour late. You can call it what you wish, jetlag even, but that doesn't count since I came from GMT+1. So again, bad time keeping (and toast. They did have some nice toast where I was staying).
3. I was there an actual half hour early, so I went into some shops to browse (such as the lovely Scottish Storytelling Centre; where they do have good coffee). In the end I was late again.
4. This time I was right on the clock, but me and a couple of other people were told that the room was full, so we had to go on hour way.
5. Robin had left Scotland and the show had closed. I am a fool.
So hopefully this will get to you in time, I'm going to make myself a cappucchino. Oh, yeah, look at me go!
Today, when writing his blog Jorik got so self-indulgent that it actually hurt. Even worse, the last two ones were quite patronising. Worse than that, he felt quite good about himself after writing those, so he went out and bought a paper. As the realisation of his own patronising shit-ness started hammering his braintissue, he read the Sketch-bit written by a man. This was so rubbish that for the rest of the day, he believed that the written word had lost a great power before its time. Now he knows that is not true. The written word can manage perfectly well without him and his weird syntactical structuring; making him think he's like Joseph Conrad or something. Well, he's not. He's more shit than Joseph Conrad (though not as shit as that man who wrote that sketch in the paper). Although most people are more shit than Joseph Conrad, to be honest, so that's not that good an example. Indeed, Jorik is more or less shit. What do you mean how shit exactly? Come on people! Think! Make up your own minds! I'm not going to do all the work around here, am I?
Love you, bye!
By the way, my question to the Why Do-service (see below) was rejected by the text-answering people for the following reason: "This question is not trying to find out about young people." Yes it did! Or maybe young people just can't handle the truth! Ah well, that's another one of these filled (walks away into the sunset whistling).