27th October 2013: Admitting Defeat - NO NOT THAT

On Thursday, I had to admit defeat.

Against my better judgement, against my intentions, I broke down. Like a car in the desert.

After my last blog I felt strengthened, confident even. All of the nonsense had been dealt with. I got it out there, some people even read it. But I was still broken.

So I put on facebook: I admit defeat.

My mum, and Jane, asked me what I'd admitted defeat to, worried about me. I told the truth. I couldn't go on anymore, so my body had broken down. I could hardly move that day. I spent most of it in a semi-conscious, self-recriminating state. Yeah, lots of fun there. Hardcore comedy.

I was supposed to have finished reading Das Schloss by Kafka and write a 3000 word essay on the horror of school in Buddenbrooks and Fruhlings Erwachen (don't come bitching at me about umlauts. I'm borrowing this laptop, which has got a UK keyboard, therefore being unable to do any language other than English. That's why I chose a US keyboard for my new laptop, with French/German/Spanish possibilities. But I digress). It wasn't mandatory, but something I chose to do. You know. Low stress. I could write that on Thursday if I went to school early and just bang it out. But there was no banging to be done on Thursday. Far from it.

So I sent an apologetic email to the lecturer of the German Lit course and typed the status into facebook when I could slightly move again.

AND THEN JAMES HAMILTON LIKED MY STATUS!

I had to check, is he just being his horrific self, or was something more ugly -uglier than that- afoot. There wasn't anything. He was just being his horrific self. Fine. Go and see his stupid show if you're in the Manchester area. It's called House of Nostril, it's produced by the Lowry, it's got people in it who are good, there's a musician in it who's great, there's unity of time, place and action blablablabla reviews, blablabla Malcolm Hardee blabla Copstick bla.

You know the drill. Voyez-les-mecs!

So for two days I was basically immobile, watching Zelda videos on Youtube. Not fun.

Before that, I had a very enjoyable Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The Tuesday Stand-up Club was a lot of fun, but I had somehow overprepared and we ended up not being able to have everyone do a spot. I am very sorry about this. I, however, stayed too long, chatting and catching up with the comclub people and, after another overlong busride home, it was after midnight. The day after I kicked myself out of bed, I met up with a friend from Sussex, who’s now doing an MA at King’s. We had a wander and we had omelettes at a restaurant in Soho and drinks in King’s student union bar. I liked it, because there weren’t as many students there as there are constantly around UCL. He, unfortunately, couldn’t make the gig I was doing later. And good on him. I was tired. Just broken. And I forgot rule number one: Take Care Of Yourself. As I was coming back from the gig, I was thinking about why I died on my arse. It wasn’t about not caring about the gig, but about being too tired to care about the gig. I wasn’t even slightly nervous. Now, after doing comedy and theatre for YONKS, I’m never nervous to the degree I used to be. I used to be a barfer. I think, but only until I was 20. Now, I have a nice fidgety sense of nervousness throughout the day. When I’m walking about, thinking about the gig, I’m never happier. I get my best ideas when I’m in that nice state of self-consciousness and the awareness that everything was possible. Wednesday night, however, I was just tired. I wasn’t looking forward to the gig (which never happens either) and not feeling well AT ALL. Then I did the gig and hey presto! I was rubbish. I made the decision that night that I’m either going to do stand-up WELL or NOT AT ALL. Option 2 doesn’t work. Because. You know. I’ll be stuck. Stuck, being. Being me, I suppose. I love stand-up too much for that. And I dislike the idea of ‘just being a person’ too much. Well, not dislike. But it frightens me. I can never NOT do comedy, NOT take that back seat view and reflect on how life seems to work. Other comics have any idea about that? The comments box is yours.

Then Thursday happened. And, again. I need to learn how to take care of myself.

Yesterday, I was out in a Turkish coffee shop, where they specialised in Shisha. I like the smell, but I’m not a big fan of the tobacco-element. I would do petrol though. I love the smell of petrol. Don’t know what that means.
I finished listening to the BBC audiobook version of Ulysses, reading along on Project Gutenberg. I wholeheartedly recommend it.

For the first time in my life, I think, I wasn’t aware that the clocks were going to change. So I awoke pretty pleased with myself.Today, I set out doing the same thing I did yesterday: go out and read 61 pages of Kafka in German, whilst moving my mouth slightly and sometimes reading aloud the German so the rhythms would make sense. I found a place, but I only stayed there for a bit. Then moved on to what I think might be the poshest caff in Clapton, all white, the cash register was an iPad. Yeah, that kind of place. I found myself, very unhelpfully, working on a writing project that I am not going to tell you about yet. Because I’m coy like that.

I just wanted to find a place to read Kafka in where they wouldn’t think I was a mental.

Then, as I decided to go back home, I found a bookshop. Not just a bookshop. A proper one, with seats downstairs and a dog (who wasn’t there today but will be there in the future). This will be a hangout. If nothing else. I bought some books. I tried to argue back to myself how that would be a good thing, not a bad thing, since these were books I needed for my course anyway. Also, I smell books. Deal with it. MORE INFO: http://www.theguardian.com/science/grrlscientist/2012/may/01/1 and especially: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/the-smell-of-a-book. Somehow, old Penguin Pockets, the weather-beaten paperback ones, smell wonderfully. I picked up Lady Chatterley’s Lover, thought of Larkin, and inhaled.

I’m going to leave you with that image. Much love,
J

19th October 2013 - Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Life, like all things in life, is a balancing act.

No, wait. I got that wrong.

Life, like all balancing acts, is really difficult.

There, that's what I basically mean to say. Now, if you care to read on, I'll be saying fundamentally the same thing. Be warned. I might remove this later on. It's a bit honest, and I don't want to endanger my position within UCL, UCLU or the comedy community by moaning about being... well, just read it.

The last time I blogged properly, I was in the Induction week. I went to a couple of induction events- for Master's students, for my own MA, gatecrashed one in the Dutch department. It's a blessing I don't drink, otherwise I might have been constantly -slightly sozzled-. It's difficult enough for me not to make a knob of myself when I'm sober.

On the level of Student Union things, I was successful to a degree that I didn't expected. I got into a Fresher's Play called Love and Money (reviewed for the UCL Union paper here: http://www.pimedia.org.uk/review-uclu-drama-freshers-plays), I started working with UCLU Comedy Club, doing improv and, just once so far, Sketch. Auditions for the Fresher's Plays were on the Friday. I was at UCL anyway, so I chose to rock up. The recalls were on the Sunday. I spent a long time there, auditioning for different roles, with different people. But, having just moved into my more long-term accommodation (in Hackney. It's very nice, thank you very much), I wanted to spend as much time as I could actually doing stuff.

For the next bit of information to work, I have to explain something first. My laptop, trusty since January 2010, is at death's door. I can't use it for 5 minutes without it suddenly freezing, usually necessitating a reboot. This meant I was at a disadvantage with regards to choosing optional modules. I could only do it on Uni computers. I could only access those when I was there and I'd usually have to wait AGES for one to be free. This also meant convening with the MA conveners frequently. For instance, I found a course I really wanted to do. I went to the people involved and got it sorted. Then, the next day, I found out that the first seminar had been and gone on Monday afternoon. I don't know about you, but doing an 8000 pound MA, I refuse to miss a single session. So that one went. Additionally, I found out that the seminar I'd chosen for the second term was actually being taught in the first, luckily, on Friday. I was moved into the course, but only got a tentative OK, because I was actually one student too much for the course, officially. This had then also be taken care of, by me. Also, I had successfully auditioned for Love and Money. Myself and Annie Hawkins had a difficult duologue to do. My brain, unfortunately, was slightly buzzing with everything, so I lost quite some sleep over it, by learning, relearning and relearning it again when I messed up. Also, I had to register with a GP and a bank. The bank was all right, but despite repeated visits to the GP, they have refused to register me. I cannot register at the UCL GP, because I live too far out of the way. I initially couldn't register because I didn't have my NHS number to hand. I phoned the Sussex University Health Centre (where I was registered in 2010) who refused to give me my number unless I went to Brighton and show up with my passport otherwise they wouldn't give it. Now, I am yet to register proper after 3 visits and finding the practised closed on two separate occasions. I also had promised my friend Alexander Bennett that I'd come to see the first night of This Is Not A Cult, the new comedy night he's doing at the Camden Head. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but I was on edge and couldn't get to sleep afterwards. My first stand-up gig, at Pearshaped in Fitzrovia was scheduled the day after. I was inordinately stressed out over it. Even though I enjoyed it thoroughly, again, I barely slept. Also, the registering at UCL kept on throwing me curve balls, like the message that I was supposed to pay half of my tuition fees before the end of the month. Because my MA is funded by the Dutch government, I only get my tuition fee loan on a monthly basis. Result: all out panic. The next day I had a chat with someone from the Registry, we made an appointment about the paying of the tuition fee. The Dutch government itself, was being difficult and I needed to write them asap. The first week of term, therefore, was slightly manic. And when I say 'slightly', I mean massively. I was already tired from moving country, which is an intense thing in itself. I hadn't really recovered from Edinburgh, nor from the 3 weeks in Holland I spent trying to move country. Sigh.

And that was only the first week.

I enjoyed doing Love and Money, but I was stressed out to a ridiculous degree and it might have been better not to do it in the end. But I couldn't have foreseen this. I still have to buy a bicycle, because I spent 2 pounds 80 a day travelling by bus to and back from UCL, which is about 2,5 hrs on the whole. Usually there are problems with the bus or on the route, which means longer waiting times and additional walking to UCL from the middle of Camden or home from the middle of Stamford Hill. I can't relax on the bus, due to too many people crowding in and me being in general stressed out and therefore anxious of others. Which isn't fun.

The weeks after weren't much less stressful. In the second week of term I did a gig in Brighton with Nigel Lovell and Alex Kealy. The trip was fun, the gig was hard work. I met some friends who saw I was as stressed out as I was and rightly told me this was not the reason I moved to this country. It wasn't. Tuesday to Thursday I spent reading Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann. I thought by just reading a novel and staying inside, I'd be able to chill out a bit. No such luck. Although I did really enjoy the book, it was a weight on my shoulders. If I had known I'd be doing this module in the summer I could have read it then. Now I had 3 full days to read all 600 pages in one massive Mann-based binge. Good as it was, I got slight cabin fever, my brain fizzing constantly with the things I still needed to take care of.

On the whole, whenever I managed to take care of an issue, this didn't manage to reduce my stress levels about that issue. Everything that made me anxious and I couldn't deal with just became a heavier weight on my shoulders. I didn't feel relieved after those stressful aspects of life had been taken away. It just became worse.

What I then do, is knuckle down and do more. The only way to escape feeling anxious and stressed out is, essentially, doing more and finding more specific rest-moments. For instance, I learnt from the Love and Money-experience and didn't do the recall for a production of Woyzeck for this reason. On the Sunday, I met up with friends from Sussex in Soho. We had a nice chat over coffee and cake, after finding with difficulty the place where they were, after taking care of more uni-business at UCL. I felt anxious, and disappointed in the way I acted. I wasn't a dick to them, but I just didn't really feel like myself. That I'm sorry about. The day after, I had another gig, which was inordinately stressful. I tried to hide in the performance space before the lights were on and people came in. I was politely shown the door, until I could go back to do the gig. This was another comic-heavy gig, so people didn't really listen. Understandably, they had their own material to think of. The audience that was there preferred homophobic, racist and misogynist stuff anyway. So I didn't succeed, really.

The day after that, there was a change. I didn't have a 600-page novel to read, so the only way I could rage at myself is for sleeping too late, because I can't get to sleep at night, or for not eating enough. I am currently involved in running a stand-up comedy workshop with UCLU Comedy Club. It's a friendly, no-stress environment where students can come and try material out on a nice crowd. I enjoyed this a great deal and I'm looking forward to the next one. And every one in the near future. I find it difficult to try material in circuit gigs, since they tend to require punchy, jokey stuff straightaway. And I'm rambly at the best of times. When I'm tired it's even worse.

Thursday, my friend Jane, who had come down from Scotland, was in London. We met up at Goodge st. Station, in the middle of a teacher demonstration. I find it difficult when I really want to support something but can't -or won't. I'm not good with crowds. What I do is pat someone on the shoulder and tell them I support their cause. Yeah, I know. What a dick.

Then Jane came out of the station. We spent an hour sitting in an inner city garden talking about our lives since the Edinburgh Festival. We've both had a pretty rough time. She then proceeded to take me around London. In Soho, I somehow managed to get us really cheap tickets for Matilda, that night. We had a great lunch, a great dinner (all vegan. I feel bad about eating meat per sé, it's worse when I'm anxious like I am now) and some high quality convo. We've known each other for more than 4 years now, and we've remained friends ever since. After the show (which. Was. A. Mazing) we said our goodbyes and promised one another to take life at a more leisurely pace from now on.

Jane has a Poetry Pamphlet out. It's called Short Term Parking. Buy it. Watch her here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVs3-RgnJwI

After an enjoyable seminar, I attempted to buy a phone. I didn't succeed. This will be turned into a bit, because it's beyond Kafka.

In short: Life has been ultra-eventful. I, for my part, am broken. I need to find a way in which I don't hate myself for being lazy but also one in which I don't hate myself for doing to much (and failing). There is also the notion of not burning out, which I need to take seriously. As a result, I've taken today off. Tomorrow, I'm reading a book on Translation studies and doing a gig at Brand Spanking Comedy in Chelsea. I'll also try to add to the Gig list. I'm still looking for gigs. Preferably nice ones. In the next week, I will try to sort myself out, as my life (hopefully) becomes more and more sorted out too.

Life is a balancing act. The past three weeks have been among the most stressful I've had over the past couple of years. But I hope to one day find a golden median where I don't hate myself (as much) and I actually have the energy to enjoy a full life. I don't at the moment, but any kind of compromise feels like failure. Ah well. As Jane always says: Keep on keeping on. That's what I'll do then.

28th September 2013 - HACKNEY - Done or suitable for doing by a drudge - UPDATED GIG LIST!

Apparently.

This is just to let you know that the gig list is updated. JUST LOOK AT IT! That's pretty healthy. If you want me to do your gig, let me know asap. Also: I'm in a play over the weekend called Love and Money. It's good. Come.
Now, I'm off to the library for some French literature and tonight I'll be seeing Alexander Bennett's THIS IS NOT A CULT- show. Please come too.

More info on the last couple of days when I have time and energy. x

25tt September 2013: London in the Sun

Bonjour.

It's been pretty swell for the past couple of days. I've managed to survive all the induction nonsense, so I'm now awaiting the faculty drinks and Student Union welcome stuff to start. Although I am an old, old man (I'm 25 mate, what, wanna fight?) I will join in the student union drama/comedy and maybe even musical theatre (perish the thought!)  groups. Why? I really loved the experience at Sussex and, whilst my degree and stand-up will tbe the most important strings to my bow this year, being with a society was throughly brilliant. I wonder if they are interested in an old, massive dutchman. You never know.

UCL is the most confusing place I've ever been in. Apart from, perhaps, the city of Edinburgh, which I only really cracked at about 3 years in. On the first day, I got lost about 15 times. Per hour. To have the dead face of Jeremy Bentham look at you sarcastically is not something that's worthy of being repeated. But, face to face, the staff at UCL are nothing less than charming. Not a fan of email, that's for sure. I managed to enroll, without having to take an English Language Proficiency Exam, which would have set me back 180 pounds... As is obvious from the language used in this blog, and the endless Henry James-esque sentences that just keep going, and going, and going, with comma splices everywhere, and just keep going and going and going without ever reaching a point that could either be called interesting or comedically valid; (hûûûûh!) I would have to pay for something I'm already pretty much OK at. Or have the examiner laugh in my face. Probably the latter.

In my daily Schlep to and from UCL, I have taken a different rout on the tube every day. Possibly my worst decision was yesterday, wherer I walked from Monument to Bank. It took me 15 minutes, and although my leg muscles got the best workout they've had since the Edinburgh Fringe, I was pretty ruined. I was also hit by how incredibly deep down into the soil the central line actually is.  Like Edinburgh, the London Underground is a three-dimensional maze. Only way more expensive. By next week, I hope to own a bicycle. Partly because of being Dutch, partly because the tube is bankruptcy-inducingly expensive. Three years ago, in Brighton, (a number of years I have to count out on my fingers every time I say or write it, because it's just so recent in my mind) I was strongly advised against buying and using a bicycle to get from a to campus. I have definitely learned not to buy a crappy bike that's too small  and has a steering wheel that is too low. It tends to mash one's testiclés. As I found out to my cost during an especially embarrassing visit to the GP in late October 2010. An experience that inspired my friend Sabina (with whom I followed ta course called 'Tragedy'at Sussex, taught by the great Prof. Tom Healy) to say that I, in fact, was a tragedy. Why? I inspire pity and fear. Too right.

As I was trying to waste time today between an appointment with the UCL support services and a Welcome drinks thing at half 5, I walked around the grounds. I remember being here 3 years ago, when I was up to audition for an Edinburgh Show called the 'Lunchtime Club'. I was so incredibly nervous that I just went in and out of coffee shops buying small espressos (which can't have helped) with my brain constnantly instructing me not to show people that I was 'a failure, like everyone can see. Or they'd never take you on'. My brain, everybody.
It's weird to see bits of London I haven't seen for 2, 3 or nearly 4 years, as I was hit with the realisation that I had been at a particular traffic light in January 2010.
Marcel Proust's brain, everybody.

I've also managed to write the first bits of a comedy song. My friend Chris didn't approve, since he finds all comedy songs 'a coopout'. He may be right.

Right, I'm going to read  David Foster Wallace and try not to have a book-induced breakdown. And as for how I'm doing:  haven't been happier in a long time. So there. Deal with that. BOOM! Etcetera.

ALSO: why do English people always say 'excetera' when it CLEARLY is 'etcetera'?  I've even heard professors use it. WHY?

In the meantime, I'm still looking for comedy gigs. Hook me up. xxx

22nd September 2013 - Back in Britain/Back in Business

Well, here we are.

After 1 Edinburgh Fringe, 3 weeks of getting stuff organised, a leaving party that will never be forgotten and a 12 hour coach trip I am, finally, in London. Good grief.

I am currently in Bow, East London, with some wonderful friends who agreed to put me up/put up with me for a week and a bit before I'm moving to my next abode. My friend Chris even collected me from the tube statio, starting a twenty minute odyssey to his flat, with lenty of baggage changing hands and man-shouting. It does make one feel like Bear Grylls, only with skin, tearing from too heavy baggage. Taking along more bags than was necessarily sane, I survived through the kindness of some fellow travellers who just happened to have to get on to the District Line. Next time I'm moving with that many bags, I'm installing a couple of extra arms on my back, like Dr. Octopus. Whether I'll then ever be able to get through airport customs again is a matter for another day.

I concluded Friday by sleeping for 15 hrs. That about tells you about the intense tiredness I'm currently rocking. Back from Edinburgh, I started a course of AlkaSeltzeer/Supradyn Complex Fortississimo.My body then, didn't have a change to get ill, which it still wants to I think. Now I'm here though, I'm developing a slight cough.

Being in the UK after two years of relentlessy looking forward to it feels likehigh school again, in a way. I always had maths exams on the final hour of Friday afternoon. When I had one,  my sense of time would be cut and my entire future stopped at that point. Then there would be a cliff after Friday afternoon. Cycling home was like awakening from a coma. I realised that life was not just about numbers I didn't understand. There were also crisps, novels and tv.  Now, I feel similar to that. I'm completely living in the moment, bso what I'm doing right now is the only real thing on my mind. That will change. Especially when the term starts on Monday next week.

On Saturday night, a friend of mine had her leaving do. She's going to Paris, for Drama school. Meeting up with a lot of friends from Sussex was wonderful. It is strange that I once did exactly the same thing as Alice is dooing. It's so brave, to just go to a place  where she doesn't know anyone. I did it, once. I couldn't do it again. So I wish her all the luck and awesomeness in the world.

Tonight, however, I'm meeting the people I'm going to live with from Monday next week. And I will attempt to keep this blog a bit more often. I't's good to be back.

P.S. I will be updating the gig list. I've got a gig at Pearshaped Comedy on October 2nd, in Brighton (BRIGHTON!) at Comedy Corner on Monday October 7th, Land of the Blind in Stockwell on the 10th of Oct and one at Comedy Squared on October 23rd. Would love to see you there!

Overthinking Films #1 - The Internship

Dear mortals.

One days to go. Actually less than that- until Edinburgh 2013. It's going to happen. Finally. But for now, something different.

This particular blog will be a try-out for a potential new feature, depending on how often I will find the time to go to the cinema and watch a movie, or anything, specifically not aimed at being over-analysed, and then over-analysing it. To a ridiculous degree. I find, if I over-analyse everything else in my life, why don't I use this ability to effect major positive change in the world? Or, of course, I could talk rubbish about films, which is what everyone does on these things. The choice is blatantly obvious. So, film number one:

#1 - The Internship
(sarky) Blurb: Essentially two hours of smoke blown up the arses of gazillionaires Larry Hagman (spot the cameo!) and Sergei Brin, with the blonde and chubby double act of Owen Wilson (starring as 'blonde') and Vince Vaughn (starring as 'chubby') regurgitated ad nauseam. Includes nerdery, strippers and lots of 'university of life'-based positive thinking crap. Actually very diverting.

Firstly, and unavoidably, The Internship is a relentless commercial break preaching the goodness of google. I imagine that coming up with a non-existent internet search engine would be missing the point slightly, since the work-as-play attitude that currently represents neo-dotcom corporations, and, with it, silicon valley. But I would argue that calling it Lycos would have been funnier. The essential benignity of 'connecting people' was spouted as if it were not a multi trillion dollar advertising machine. The language used reminded me of plenty of 1990s information superhighway masturbatory fantasies, as lived by idiots who prefer the beanbag over the swivelchair. More about that later.

Secondly, the visual representation of google's headquarters. Part Teletubbie land, part training levels in Final Fantasy VIII; google is presented as a bouncy castle for hedonistic manchildren with poor social skills. These manchildren populate the place, typing away and flapping at their tablets like morons. The only person who seems to have an actual job is the unavoidable 'hot one', who's Aussie (but uses a New Zealand/RP/Mid-Atlantic burr in order to sound sexy I can only assume). 'Blonde' obviously falls head over heels in love with her. More about that later. The manchildiness is represented most potently by a character called Lyle who is mainly a nerdy haircut and some glasses. So am I, but that is not strictly speaking relevant. There also is a 'cool' nerd, a kid who picks out his own eyebrow hair in an OCD-typical act of self-punishment. Self-mutilation, obviously, is hilarious. Especially if the perpetrator is a young male with some kind of Asian origin. Haha! Did I mention this is a comedy? Although drawing on an eyebrow with a felt tip pen is very funny.

Thirdly, naturally, the baddie. He is English, called Graham. Personally, I know one Graham, he's from Manchester and unquestionably lovely. One of those mistakes that Hollywood keeps on making is casting British actors as the 'evil' ones -which they're allowed to do, I suppose- but then giving them the script for the jocks in a Revenge of the Nerds film. From my experience British people don't bitch to people straight into their faces. If they hate you, you will probably never find out. Not that I care, but it does mean that I now doubt the veracity of all of my friendships. I suppose that's the territory that goes with politeness. But leaving the notion of my personal life for just one moment: the actor who's playing the baddie, is justifiably good at playing a dick. To the extent that he becomes just that.
God, I just realised.
He is Draco Malfoy.
Also highly unpleasant, Draco Malfoy, in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, first tries to bond with Potter, before becoming the überdick from space that we all love to spit at. Graham thingy, in this film, does exactly the same thing, meaning that his character has the depth of a minidisc.

Fourthly, it is unquestionably a high school film. The 'campus', where the bulk of the film takes place, is quite nightmarish. The hanging fluorescent tubes on wires reminded me of Welles' The Trial and similar office-as-hell environment. Such as The Office. Like high schools, offices are prisons we enter into every day like the willing slaves we are. We are incarcerated until the late afternoon until we are once again set free to do an entire day's work on 'having a personal life'. That's why I don't have one. That being said, the idea of office politics and high school cliques still makes me violently sick. I don't want to be in a hierarchy, nor in a place that overtly celebrates its own hierarchical nature. The fact that the interns had to wear helicopter caps with 'noogle' written on them reminds me of deeply depressing office outings. Team spirit. Even worse is the four minute sermon on team playing. Yay! Someone please kill me before I soil myself.

Fifthly, the idea that selling people stuff is a good thing in and of itself. Fuck off. Blonde and Chubby play laid-off watch salesmen, who keep on going on that selling people shit they don't need and the psychological tricks they play on their unwilling customers is somehow a good thing. I remain unconvinced. I have seen rooms of sales dicks in callcentres (a.k.a. the seventh circle of hell) turn into rabid dogs to log even a single sale. That, and The Persuasionists. Didn't think I'd use that as a reference point, did you? No, you didn't.

Sixthly, the buddy movie thing. What happens is that one of the duo Blonde and Chubby has made a decision that would throw the entirety of the film's running narrative into disarray. What follows is a long dialogue, which is best described as:
1. No.
2. Yes.
1. No, leave me alone.
2. Yes.
1. No again.
2. Yes.
1. Ok, yes.
[manly cuddles and walking off downstage centre, looked at in bewilderment by Will Farrell et al]

Seventhly, the corporate wankfestiness.
For this, I googled 'google tax avoidance', only realising as I was typing this, that google may decide to throw my internet search history onto the open market. Still, it gamely produced  7.270.000 results. Most of these are from UK based sites, the top one being the parliament website. Take for instance the following sources: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20560359 because it's the BBC and http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/10/google-taxes-bermuda_n_2270354.html because Ariana Huffington. That should be the new argument winner among teenagers. Down with 'whatever', 'duh' and the now oddly quaint and 90s sounding 'yeah, right'. If you want to win any argument, you should just say:
'Because Ariana Huffington". You may add a 'Boom!' and a fistbump, but that is all optional.
Back ontopic. The idea of google being so incredible and especially the catchphrase 'googliness', which doesn't sound so much like a cheer, but more like a symptom of Graves' Disease; has fallen out of favour in recent months. Revelations that google and other dot-com giants abuse the tax system by using postboxes in (in Google's case) Ireland, Amsterdam (yes, they're here!) and Bermuda to basically pay nothing to the UK, US and European markets, where they owe, big time. The sheen has gone from the big corporations and the youth of today is (hopefully) less entranced by corporate living. Not that there's anything we can do about it anymore, apart from living of the grid completely. The Guardian's John Harris explains: http://www.theguardian.com/business/2013/jul/29/serco-biggest-company-never-heard-of

Eighthly, Vince Vaughn - most memorably during the sporting match - is shouted at for being tall. I am myself a tall man, and I have never been called 'ya big tree!'. Not even in Scotland. The worst I ever got was in Holland, 'Is it cold up there?' which is annoying. Or, from ancient maiden aunts at sundry family gatherings: 'Gosh you've grown! Aren't young people tall nowadays?' Then I'd quip: "Yes aunt something, you're right it IS a generational thing. It has something to do with hormones in beef in the early 90s.' That would shut them up. God, was I a pleasant 15 year old or what? (I wasn't) I don't think calling someone 'ya big tree!' is sufficiently sweary. As a tall person myself, I often stare with impugnity at people who are taller than I am. Mainly because I feel all protected when I force them to hug me, after I have seduced them.

Ninethly, ageism. Oh dear. This film is nasty about every age group, apart from successful babyboomers with lots of cash, who are curiously absent. There's a bit about a salesman who's into nonogenarian threesomes. That's funny, isn't it? The objectification of old people, then the entire room going 'yuck'. Get fucked. By someone in their nineties, preferably. And enjoy it.
It's nasty to young people, who are nerdy, virginal try-hards. It acknowledges for a moment the severe difficulties faced by young people, fresh out of university, but then doesn't try to talk about why or how or because of who this generational discrepancy has occured.
It is also nasty towards men in their early forties (which Blonde and Chubby inhabit). Graham (the Baddie), is initially nice to Blonde and Chubby, believing they are successful, purely because of their age.

Tenthly, the treatment of women. OH DEAR. The nerdy one (Lyle) has fallen in love with a dance teacher at google, but then Blonde and Chubby take the 'team' out on the piss. The piss-up happens in a Cantonese restaurant, then a strip joint. THEN: ha! Hey-hey! The hot girl is one of the strippers.
Also, 'the hot one' and Blonde hit it off, go out for dinner. She hasn't had 10 years of depressing dates with dickheads. As a true Gentleman, Blonde then proceeds to be an absolute dickbag, and ends up in bed with the hot one. MEANING: be a dick. Girls go for that.

Eleventhly, the sense of 'University of Life' witticisms. TOO TIRED TO THINK.

Twelfthly, the sense of this film being 'out of time', dot-com bubble, young people unemployed out of college.

I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE.

Basically, this may not be a very good idea for a blog. I will publish it. If you want to contribute you can, but I am too tired from all this negative energy. I used to be able to do this negative run for days. Now I can't really deal with it anymore. AH WELL. EDINBURGH TOMORROW!

7th July 2013 - Back to the Grindstone

So, this is it. I had officially taken a year off performing (apart from the odd spot here and there) but we're finally starting again. I'm going to start this blog again, twitter also. Firstly, I will be performing in this show in Edinburgh every day: https://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/alexander-bennett-s-afraid-of-the-dark
I will probably not be doing the Edinburgh Podcasts, unless someone is willing to give me recording equipment. But stay tuned about that. Also, I'm getting back into regular stand-up, see the gig list to the right of this blog.

The reasons why I decided not to do stand-up for a while have to do with the sheer visceral intensity of performing. If I don't do a gig for months, and then do one, the hit of adrenaline is enough to keep me an insomniac for 2 nights, then dropping violently and feeling horrible for a week. So, I reasoned, doing stand-up in Holland just isn't worth it. I was only able do gig about once a month (if I was lucky) and once, because the MC had forgotten to tell the audience I was doing the gig in English, I wasn't able to do any material and improvise for 10 minutes in Dutch. This wasn't such a disaster as I felt it would be when I saw everyone in the audience unable to switch languages. It wasn't even that late; Nijmegen, you disappointed me.

The last gig I did in Holland was in Utrecht, at Tivoli. This was fun, especially since the MC was so thoughtful to introduce me as the 'ugliest comic on the circuit', which was exactly why I wasn't successful in the UK. The reveal, that I actually was Dutch, was pretty cool. I love the look on people's faces when their cognitive system bridges the gap of non-understanding to understanding. That's also a lot of fun when you're teaching. The moment where people go: 'OoohhaahahahahahaaHAAA!!' is a pretty good summation of my style at the moment.

So I will be doing Edinburgh properly, with a full show, for the first time since I first came to the Festival in 2009. Edinburgh has changed my life, all for the good. I'll probably talk about it in one of the coming blogs. The year I spent in Brighton, at Sussex University (written about extensively on this blog) was incredible on many levels, including doing about 80 gigs. For the past two years I had to focus on my health and finishing my Bachelor's degree. I will be in London for a week and a bit, then back to Holland for a spell, then the Fringe. I cannot wait. This will be followed by moving to London in September. I'm going to be doing an MA in Comparative Literature at UCL, attempt to keep on losing weight (aim: 90 kilos by 2014), teaching German and French and (hopefully) gigging every night. That should be possible, so if you happen to run a night, contact me on twitter, on here or via email. I don't mind travelling.

More stories coming this week.

It's good to be back.