I'm in Hava Java. Which irks me to begin with because of the turgid fog of pretentiousness that I have to sift through just to approach the counter. Fucking university graduates.
I stumble upon one of Tracey Brown's friends who I had randomly met a couple of nights prior. We chitchat. I don't know what to say to this person.
Moot.
I peruse a bulletin board near the coat rack, and I notice an ad for an open mic comedy night happening next Sunday. Before contemplating anything, I start writing down phone numbers and starting times. I am already asking friends to go. All three of them.
Because I miss it. Badly. Even though it is terrifying.
I'm far from good (that is not modesty; it's rationality), but if you're curious...
I tell people that it's like a dartboard. It's like you're standing in front of a dartboard.
There is no lonelier version of performance.
I stumble upon one of Tracey Brown's friends who I had randomly met a couple of nights prior. We chitchat. I don't know what to say to this person.
Moot.
I peruse a bulletin board near the coat rack, and I notice an ad for an open mic comedy night happening next Sunday. Before contemplating anything, I start writing down phone numbers and starting times. I am already asking friends to go. All three of them.
Because I miss it. Badly. Even though it is terrifying.
I'm far from good (that is not modesty; it's rationality), but if you're curious...
I tell people that it's like a dartboard. It's like you're standing in front of a dartboard.
There is no lonelier version of performance.
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