Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Bombing or are you?
Bombing or are you?
Anytime I get a gig that I feel is “So important I kill,” I’m going to bomb. It’s preordained.
I occasionally get a call from a particular prestigious speaker agent. Let me put it this way: they consider the fact that I will work for only $15,000 a gig – cheap. So, when the phone rings with a gig from this agent I get down on my knees and thank the powers that be. I make a commitment to hit the ball way out of the park. I'm going to be the funniest I've EVER been, I'm going to get a standing ovation, I'm going to have the agent so impressed that they're going to be booking me for -- hell -- 10 times a month! I'm already looking in yachting catalogues.
With this attitude, any comic is doomed to fail.
I worked my butt of before the gig. I called people who were attending to find out the “inside poop” on what was going on in their business so I could write customized material. I hired comedy coaches to go over my jokes. Their theme was “Super Heroes.” I wrote and honed Wonder Women jokes. “I’m just like Linda Carter, but without the first name and the waistline.” Weak, I know. I called on other comics to help punch up my “Super Hero” jokes. I even got my gym- trainer, who is a comic book expert, to give me advice.
The client emailed me the script, as it was an awards show. I worked out funny rifts; I even got permission to lisence some funny slides that I found on the Internet. I was going to be funny in a multi-media HUGE way.
It’s the night of the gig. The room is enormous and decorated with the “Super Hero” motif. The rehearsal goes great. It’s an award show and I practice announcing the award winners with the kind of enthusiasm of an academy award winner.
The show is about to start. The audience is at their tables eating their prawn appetizers. The hum of the room is deafening. I go over and over my super hero joke opening. Someone goes out and introduces me. I come out to some loud music. I do my first joke and realize that the audience has not stopped talking, nor even turned around to look at the stage. One minute in, I have already let go of all the new material I spent hours planning.
What to do? If I was in a nightclub, I could say, “Shut the fuck up!” Not at a corporate gig. I go to my killer stuff and still no laughs. I finally say, “For God Sakes, how long does it take to eat three prawns!” That got a small laugh. “Some gala affair – three gala shrimp.” I got another laugh, but everyone went back to talking. My first 10 minute set was over. I left the stage sweating profusely. And yet, I still had to come back after dinner for another set and the awards.
They ate dinner and it was time for me to go out again. Maybe this will be better. No such luck. I arrived onstage and still no one would stop talking. Now, I’m getting pissed. I got an idea. I went into the audience with the mike. I stood between two guys who were in conversation and asked them, “So, what are you guys talking about that is sooo important?” It was risky, but it worked. The entire audience went quiet. They were all afraid that I would pick them out. I had them for a few minutes.
My next comedy bit went great. But then I had to announce the awards. What the client didn’t tell me was that none of the winners were there and everyone already knew who won the awards.
The night finally ended with a thud and I went to the hotel bar to drink. After my second drink, I realized that wanting something to go well is the kiss of death. In comedy, the audience has to sense that we “Don’t give a shit.” Trying to be “good” is like trying to have good sex. Any time we are trying it’s going to be bad. Any time trying is involved, phoniness, failure and heavy drinking will follow.
What a shock it was that I got a very nice letter from the client about how good I was! I think they were just too drunk to remember that they didn't hear one thing I said. After all, I was an improvement from last year’s mariachi band.
Anytime I get a gig that I feel is “So important I kill,” I’m going to bomb. It’s preordained.
I occasionally get a call from a particular prestigious speaker agent. Let me put it this way: they consider the fact that I will work for only $15,000 a gig – cheap. So, when the phone rings with a gig from this agent I get down on my knees and thank the powers that be. I make a commitment to hit the ball way out of the park. I'm going to be the funniest I've EVER been, I'm going to get a standing ovation, I'm going to have the agent so impressed that they're going to be booking me for -- hell -- 10 times a month! I'm already looking in yachting catalogues.
With this attitude, any comic is doomed to fail.
I worked my butt of before the gig. I called people who were attending to find out the “inside poop” on what was going on in their business so I could write customized material. I hired comedy coaches to go over my jokes. Their theme was “Super Heroes.” I wrote and honed Wonder Women jokes. “I’m just like Linda Carter, but without the first name and the waistline.” Weak, I know. I called on other comics to help punch up my “Super Hero” jokes. I even got my gym- trainer, who is a comic book expert, to give me advice.
The client emailed me the script, as it was an awards show. I worked out funny rifts; I even got permission to lisence some funny slides that I found on the Internet. I was going to be funny in a multi-media HUGE way.
It’s the night of the gig. The room is enormous and decorated with the “Super Hero” motif. The rehearsal goes great. It’s an award show and I practice announcing the award winners with the kind of enthusiasm of an academy award winner.
The show is about to start. The audience is at their tables eating their prawn appetizers. The hum of the room is deafening. I go over and over my super hero joke opening. Someone goes out and introduces me. I come out to some loud music. I do my first joke and realize that the audience has not stopped talking, nor even turned around to look at the stage. One minute in, I have already let go of all the new material I spent hours planning.
What to do? If I was in a nightclub, I could say, “Shut the fuck up!” Not at a corporate gig. I go to my killer stuff and still no laughs. I finally say, “For God Sakes, how long does it take to eat three prawns!” That got a small laugh. “Some gala affair – three gala shrimp.” I got another laugh, but everyone went back to talking. My first 10 minute set was over. I left the stage sweating profusely. And yet, I still had to come back after dinner for another set and the awards.
They ate dinner and it was time for me to go out again. Maybe this will be better. No such luck. I arrived onstage and still no one would stop talking. Now, I’m getting pissed. I got an idea. I went into the audience with the mike. I stood between two guys who were in conversation and asked them, “So, what are you guys talking about that is sooo important?” It was risky, but it worked. The entire audience went quiet. They were all afraid that I would pick them out. I had them for a few minutes.
My next comedy bit went great. But then I had to announce the awards. What the client didn’t tell me was that none of the winners were there and everyone already knew who won the awards.
The night finally ended with a thud and I went to the hotel bar to drink. After my second drink, I realized that wanting something to go well is the kiss of death. In comedy, the audience has to sense that we “Don’t give a shit.” Trying to be “good” is like trying to have good sex. Any time we are trying it’s going to be bad. Any time trying is involved, phoniness, failure and heavy drinking will follow.
What a shock it was that I got a very nice letter from the client about how good I was! I think they were just too drunk to remember that they didn't hear one thing I said. After all, I was an improvement from last year’s mariachi band.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Writer's Block Part 2
Breaking Through Writer’s Block
I realized why I hate writing.It’s because I hate being alone. Writing feels like punishment. A sort of cosmic “Time out – go to your corner and think about what you’ve done!” That’s how my parent’s punished me and that’s how writing feels. It feels as if I’m being punished. Finally I figured out a few solutions:
NEVER give myself the whole day to write. Writing is exhausting.Far more exhausting than roofing.You know the saying – “Roofing is easy – writing is hard!” Or something like that. Or maybe not. But one of the best books on creative writing is Dorothea Brandt, BECOMING A WRITER. Written in 1936, the advice is timeless. She suggests to do no more than 15 minutes in the morning.
Yes, I can do that...
Then back to it later in the day. After writing for 15 minutes first thing in the morning, it got my head thinking about it all day. All day I’m jotting ideas down and my attitude now is that I can’t wait to find the time to write them down.
I find that getting out of the house is a good thing. Too much distraction at home.On Sunday, I did morning chores and headed off to write at the Del Rey hotel. It has a gorgeous lobby with overstuffed sofas with an amazing view of the ocean. A perfect place for an office.I started writing and it was working.A waitress kept feeding me – salad, ice tea, cappuccino while I typed away. No internet service – no distraction. My 0 words turned in 1694 words.I’m going to go to a different hotel each day. My mother would be proud – I have the life of a hooker.
I realized why I hate writing.It’s because I hate being alone. Writing feels like punishment. A sort of cosmic “Time out – go to your corner and think about what you’ve done!” That’s how my parent’s punished me and that’s how writing feels. It feels as if I’m being punished. Finally I figured out a few solutions:
NEVER give myself the whole day to write. Writing is exhausting.Far more exhausting than roofing.You know the saying – “Roofing is easy – writing is hard!” Or something like that. Or maybe not. But one of the best books on creative writing is Dorothea Brandt, BECOMING A WRITER. Written in 1936, the advice is timeless. She suggests to do no more than 15 minutes in the morning.
Yes, I can do that...
Then back to it later in the day. After writing for 15 minutes first thing in the morning, it got my head thinking about it all day. All day I’m jotting ideas down and my attitude now is that I can’t wait to find the time to write them down.
I find that getting out of the house is a good thing. Too much distraction at home.On Sunday, I did morning chores and headed off to write at the Del Rey hotel. It has a gorgeous lobby with overstuffed sofas with an amazing view of the ocean. A perfect place for an office.I started writing and it was working.A waitress kept feeding me – salad, ice tea, cappuccino while I typed away. No internet service – no distraction. My 0 words turned in 1694 words.I’m going to go to a different hotel each day. My mother would be proud – I have the life of a hooker.
Writer's Block Part 1
Writer’s Block
“I have a whole day to write” and other fantasies. I have been avoiding writing lately.I have been trying to find time to work on a new book and I’ve been putting it off forever. There is so much on my calendar every day, so I cleared Saturday of everything. A whole day to write! This made me feel better for the rest of the week.I’m working in the office every day this week, but that’s OK, because on Saturday I’ve got the WHOLE DAY! Saturday rolls around.I usually exercise in the morning, but not today...today is my writing day.I’m going to focus. Here is what the day looked like:
9am:In bed, I reach over to my laptop.I open MS WORD and I write a sentence. Hmmm… why is my computer writing in size 10 font? I want it to write by default in a size 12 font. I don’t know how to do this, so I have to go to the help menu and figure it out. I then realize that not only can I create a template to adjust the font, but also styles, formats, and even the menus. I added “Save All” to the FILE menu, and word count to the TOOLS menu. I activate it and see that I have written 12 words.
10am:I don’t like that in this one sentence I’ve written the word “comedy” twice. I wonder if there is a better word than that.I go to the Thesaurus that comes with MS Word and find it lacking.I’m an author.I need a better Thesaurus.I open up Internet Explorer and go to www.downloads.com looking for a better one.I find one and download it.Then I realize that I already downloaded a Thesaurus.I can’t find it.I realize that I need a better way to organize my “Favorites.” So I download another file that guarantees to organize my favorites.I open it and start creating folders and topics to organize my favorites.
11am:I wonder if I have enough money in the bank to afford these new software programs I’m buying. Well, I’ll have enough money when I finish this book, but I better see how my stocks are doing. I go on to Schwab.com and start reading the news on these shitty stocks I own. Three stocks have taken a 20% dive. This is not good. I better move money from stocks to invest in a CD that’s more conservative.
Noon:Wow, I’m hungry. There’s nothing in the refrigerator to eat. I get in the car and drive to the market.I take my computer with me, because I realize that I can’t write at home.I’ll write at a restaurant.I’m at the restaurant, turn on the computer, but I realize that I forgot to charge up the batteries. I could write by hand, but I’ve long forgotten how to do that.
2pm:Back home I realize that I forgot to feed the fish. I get their yummy frozen bloodworms out of a little freezer and realize that they are stuck because the freezer needs to be defrosted.
3pm:After defrosting the freezer, I get my computer charger which is under a huge stack of unopened mail. I better go through it. In the mail, I see my Netflix have arrived.
7pm:I’ve watch “History of Violence” and “Dead Ringers.” Both good.I would turn on my computer, but it’s time to feed the animals and walk the dog.Walking the dog, I run into my friend who wants to come over and watch my third Netflix movie with me. I tell her I need to write, but she’s going to bring over dinner -- and I’m hungry again!
10pm: I’m back in bed again with the computer on my lap.It’s charged up.I open my one sentence and delete it. It’s stupid.According to word count I have 0 words. I think, “Well, it’s not like anyone is really waiting for this book. There’s tomorrow -- and the next day and the day after that.I have plenty of time to write.”
If this sounds like you, maybe I can help.I found a way to break through. Stay tuned to next blog...
“I have a whole day to write” and other fantasies. I have been avoiding writing lately.I have been trying to find time to work on a new book and I’ve been putting it off forever. There is so much on my calendar every day, so I cleared Saturday of everything. A whole day to write! This made me feel better for the rest of the week.I’m working in the office every day this week, but that’s OK, because on Saturday I’ve got the WHOLE DAY! Saturday rolls around.I usually exercise in the morning, but not today...today is my writing day.I’m going to focus. Here is what the day looked like:
9am:In bed, I reach over to my laptop.I open MS WORD and I write a sentence. Hmmm… why is my computer writing in size 10 font? I want it to write by default in a size 12 font. I don’t know how to do this, so I have to go to the help menu and figure it out. I then realize that not only can I create a template to adjust the font, but also styles, formats, and even the menus. I added “Save All” to the FILE menu, and word count to the TOOLS menu. I activate it and see that I have written 12 words.
10am:I don’t like that in this one sentence I’ve written the word “comedy” twice. I wonder if there is a better word than that.I go to the Thesaurus that comes with MS Word and find it lacking.I’m an author.I need a better Thesaurus.I open up Internet Explorer and go to www.downloads.com looking for a better one.I find one and download it.Then I realize that I already downloaded a Thesaurus.I can’t find it.I realize that I need a better way to organize my “Favorites.” So I download another file that guarantees to organize my favorites.I open it and start creating folders and topics to organize my favorites.
11am:I wonder if I have enough money in the bank to afford these new software programs I’m buying. Well, I’ll have enough money when I finish this book, but I better see how my stocks are doing. I go on to Schwab.com and start reading the news on these shitty stocks I own. Three stocks have taken a 20% dive. This is not good. I better move money from stocks to invest in a CD that’s more conservative.
Noon:Wow, I’m hungry. There’s nothing in the refrigerator to eat. I get in the car and drive to the market.I take my computer with me, because I realize that I can’t write at home.I’ll write at a restaurant.I’m at the restaurant, turn on the computer, but I realize that I forgot to charge up the batteries. I could write by hand, but I’ve long forgotten how to do that.
2pm:Back home I realize that I forgot to feed the fish. I get their yummy frozen bloodworms out of a little freezer and realize that they are stuck because the freezer needs to be defrosted.
3pm:After defrosting the freezer, I get my computer charger which is under a huge stack of unopened mail. I better go through it. In the mail, I see my Netflix have arrived.
7pm:I’ve watch “History of Violence” and “Dead Ringers.” Both good.I would turn on my computer, but it’s time to feed the animals and walk the dog.Walking the dog, I run into my friend who wants to come over and watch my third Netflix movie with me. I tell her I need to write, but she’s going to bring over dinner -- and I’m hungry again!
10pm: I’m back in bed again with the computer on my lap.It’s charged up.I open my one sentence and delete it. It’s stupid.According to word count I have 0 words. I think, “Well, it’s not like anyone is really waiting for this book. There’s tomorrow -- and the next day and the day after that.I have plenty of time to write.”
If this sounds like you, maybe I can help.I found a way to break through. Stay tuned to next blog...
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Standup in the Red States (Part 2)
Standup in the Red States (part 2)
(Read the first part below before you read this)
Arriving at Ozark Lakes, MO at 10pm, I had dinner at the Tan-Tar-A Resort restaurant. I was the only one in the place except for the stuffed animals that surround me. In the middle of the restaurant was a stuffed grizzly bear standing on her hind legs and growling at a stuffed fox for all eternity. Birds that were offered on the menu were also strung to the ceiling. I've never found it appealing to see the animals I’m ordering.
Since I was the only customer, this was a chance to talk to the waitress and see what things were like in Ozark Beach so I could get some local comedy material. After about five minutes my waitress told me her whole life story. I don’t know if it was because I mentioned that I met Oprah, but she told me the most intimate details of her life: her child is Autistic, her husband and her don’t have sex, she had her stomach stapled to lose weight. Finally, something I could relate to. That’s when I realized that deep down; we are all alike and struggling with the same problems; family, sex, comestic surgery.
Got up at 8am (5am LA time) to do the gig for the bankers. I wrote the Ozark Banker's Rap song.
(Listen to it here)
I did the gig cutting out anything that would alienate the group starting with language. I didn’t know “Hell” was a bad word until I did a gig last year in North Dakota.“What the hell” changed to “What the heck.” “Oh God! To “Oh Goodness.” And "Oy!" to, well, somethings just don't translate.
But in the end, I found something that we had in common to poke fun of: people from Los Angeles. I made fun of Botox (“Nobody laughs at comedy clubs in LA. They can’t. They have too much botox”); I make fun of myself. Because in the end, they aren’t the joke – I am.
The biggest mistake comics make when traveling is that they write material about “How weird the place is.” But that won’t help you connect to the audience, because it’s not weird for them – they live there. The only weird person is you. Yes, it is normal to look at endangered animals while eating chicken fried steak. Who am I to judge? A comic can’t get people to laugh unless they build a bridge to the audience. So, I connected with them. They loved the rap song. And all was well. Well… except maybe I should not have said it was “Hard out there for a pimp.” Which is weird because in Ozark Lake it probably is one of the hardest places for a pimp. What the heck!
(Read the first part below before you read this)
Arriving at Ozark Lakes, MO at 10pm, I had dinner at the Tan-Tar-A Resort restaurant. I was the only one in the place except for the stuffed animals that surround me. In the middle of the restaurant was a stuffed grizzly bear standing on her hind legs and growling at a stuffed fox for all eternity. Birds that were offered on the menu were also strung to the ceiling. I've never found it appealing to see the animals I’m ordering.
Since I was the only customer, this was a chance to talk to the waitress and see what things were like in Ozark Beach so I could get some local comedy material. After about five minutes my waitress told me her whole life story. I don’t know if it was because I mentioned that I met Oprah, but she told me the most intimate details of her life: her child is Autistic, her husband and her don’t have sex, she had her stomach stapled to lose weight. Finally, something I could relate to. That’s when I realized that deep down; we are all alike and struggling with the same problems; family, sex, comestic surgery.
Got up at 8am (5am LA time) to do the gig for the bankers. I wrote the Ozark Banker's Rap song.
(Listen to it here)
I did the gig cutting out anything that would alienate the group starting with language. I didn’t know “Hell” was a bad word until I did a gig last year in North Dakota.“What the hell” changed to “What the heck.” “Oh God! To “Oh Goodness.” And "Oy!" to, well, somethings just don't translate.
But in the end, I found something that we had in common to poke fun of: people from Los Angeles. I made fun of Botox (“Nobody laughs at comedy clubs in LA. They can’t. They have too much botox”); I make fun of myself. Because in the end, they aren’t the joke – I am.
The biggest mistake comics make when traveling is that they write material about “How weird the place is.” But that won’t help you connect to the audience, because it’s not weird for them – they live there. The only weird person is you. Yes, it is normal to look at endangered animals while eating chicken fried steak. Who am I to judge? A comic can’t get people to laugh unless they build a bridge to the audience. So, I connected with them. They loved the rap song. And all was well. Well… except maybe I should not have said it was “Hard out there for a pimp.” Which is weird because in Ozark Lake it probably is one of the hardest places for a pimp. What the heck!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Standup in the Red States
Comedy in the Red States
Got off the plane in Springfield, Missouri, a bit nauseous. You know the plane is going to be small when the pre-boarding announcement is: “You might want to use the bathroom at the gate.” I had an aisle seat AND a window seat. The captain flew the plane and served drinks. Scary.
I arrived, jumped into my Budget rental car and got directions to Ozark Beach. Weird going to a beach in the Midwest. Sort of like Death Valley Ski resort. But I guess there’s a lake at the Tan-Tar-A Resort, where I’ve been hired to give a funny closing keynote for an association of Missouri Bankers.
I love driving to a gig. It gives me a chance to soak in the local culture and figure out what jokes I can do and what I should cut.
Just passed an ad for Andy Williams who’s doing a show with Petula Clark. Wow, I didn’t know they were alive. The next billboard for Yahov Smirnoff’s show, “What a country!” His billboard is snazzy, with some sort of spinning lights and Yahov in a big purple turban and right after that a billboard for a Red Skelton revival. I had no idea that after Vegas stops booking you, there’s always Missouri.
This is not going to be exactly a hip crowd. I’m thinking that I might not be in touch with Missouri reality. Maybe I should change the references in my act. Maybe I should change the joke about Three Six Mafia “It’s Hard Out There For a Pimp” to “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp.” And “What’s up with Frank Sinatra!”
I’ve been driving for an hour and it’s totally flat. Not a hill in sight. OK, there goes all references to mountain biking and I’ve got to let go of that hysterical story about going down a black diamond ski run. And there are no buildings. The tallest building is a Dunkin Donuts. So I can’t do my “Working in a High Rise” office building routine. That’s gone.
I’m now out in the country and passing a lot of farms where people seem to be growing things that I buy at Gelsons. Oh, if only I had some sod jokes. Now, I’m passing a lot of cattle. “Got milk?” That’s something I know. Oh, I’m not feeling so good!
I’ve passed now at least 15 churches. Not one synagogue. “Growing up Jewish” jokes are all out. And my “Gay chunk” is cut. This is weird about not being about to talk about gay stuff because on the plane I was sitting next to the two gayest straight guys. They talked to me about cooking, decorating, used the word “fabulous” as much as a West Hollywood queen and then showed me pictures of their wives and kids. In the Midwest even the gay people are straight. And at the airport, I’ve never seen so many lesbians with husbands. The gay chunk is definitely cut.
I’ve been on the road for two hours. I’ve seen a lot, but there seems to be something missing from the landscape – black people. This will definitely be one of those Caucasian gigs. So much for my routine on my black lesbian lover.
Now I’ve just passed my 4th RV park. Trailer parks. Maybe a joke about: Why do trailers have wheels when nobody goes anywhere. I’m desperate.
15 minutes away and I just passed the Evangelist Center. I better not mention nipples -- matter of fact, I think I'll take them off.
I’ve arrived. It’s 11 pm and the gig is tomorrow morning. I have to do an hour. I have nothing. What am I going to do? How am I going to relate to people who come from such a different culture?
Stay tuned.
Got off the plane in Springfield, Missouri, a bit nauseous. You know the plane is going to be small when the pre-boarding announcement is: “You might want to use the bathroom at the gate.” I had an aisle seat AND a window seat. The captain flew the plane and served drinks. Scary.
I arrived, jumped into my Budget rental car and got directions to Ozark Beach. Weird going to a beach in the Midwest. Sort of like Death Valley Ski resort. But I guess there’s a lake at the Tan-Tar-A Resort, where I’ve been hired to give a funny closing keynote for an association of Missouri Bankers.
I love driving to a gig. It gives me a chance to soak in the local culture and figure out what jokes I can do and what I should cut.
Just passed an ad for Andy Williams who’s doing a show with Petula Clark. Wow, I didn’t know they were alive. The next billboard for Yahov Smirnoff’s show, “What a country!” His billboard is snazzy, with some sort of spinning lights and Yahov in a big purple turban and right after that a billboard for a Red Skelton revival. I had no idea that after Vegas stops booking you, there’s always Missouri.
This is not going to be exactly a hip crowd. I’m thinking that I might not be in touch with Missouri reality. Maybe I should change the references in my act. Maybe I should change the joke about Three Six Mafia “It’s Hard Out There For a Pimp” to “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp.” And “What’s up with Frank Sinatra!”
I’ve been driving for an hour and it’s totally flat. Not a hill in sight. OK, there goes all references to mountain biking and I’ve got to let go of that hysterical story about going down a black diamond ski run. And there are no buildings. The tallest building is a Dunkin Donuts. So I can’t do my “Working in a High Rise” office building routine. That’s gone.
I’m now out in the country and passing a lot of farms where people seem to be growing things that I buy at Gelsons. Oh, if only I had some sod jokes. Now, I’m passing a lot of cattle. “Got milk?” That’s something I know. Oh, I’m not feeling so good!
I’ve passed now at least 15 churches. Not one synagogue. “Growing up Jewish” jokes are all out. And my “Gay chunk” is cut. This is weird about not being about to talk about gay stuff because on the plane I was sitting next to the two gayest straight guys. They talked to me about cooking, decorating, used the word “fabulous” as much as a West Hollywood queen and then showed me pictures of their wives and kids. In the Midwest even the gay people are straight. And at the airport, I’ve never seen so many lesbians with husbands. The gay chunk is definitely cut.
I’ve been on the road for two hours. I’ve seen a lot, but there seems to be something missing from the landscape – black people. This will definitely be one of those Caucasian gigs. So much for my routine on my black lesbian lover.
Now I’ve just passed my 4th RV park. Trailer parks. Maybe a joke about: Why do trailers have wheels when nobody goes anywhere. I’m desperate.
15 minutes away and I just passed the Evangelist Center. I better not mention nipples -- matter of fact, I think I'll take them off.
I’ve arrived. It’s 11 pm and the gig is tomorrow morning. I have to do an hour. I have nothing. What am I going to do? How am I going to relate to people who come from such a different culture?
Stay tuned.
