Venue: Newmarket Hotel
Date: 20 September, 2010
This is probably the best room in Brisbane. There's a lot of expectation riding on this one.
Things weren't looking so hot. It was another rainy night, and people weren't filling up the room. Twenty minutes before showtime, and it looked like there wouldn't be more than 15 people in the audience. Then a wave came in. Not like 200, but easily 30 people in total. That's pretty good for a bar without a dedicated room for comedy.
30 faces. 30 sets of eyes staring at me. That's a lot of pressure. Okay, not really. But it's the largest room I've ever played this year.
Man, I rocked it. I'm not going to say it was easy, or that I'm somehow amazing and immune from bombing, but tonight felt great. So yay, go me.
I'm gonna be nitpicky. I really need to have better segues between jokes, or better ways of mentioning things that comics brought up beforehand. I also think the Brisbane bus joke needs a tighter intro. But I cut out a lot of fat, and threw out some jokes I'd written a long time ago that I hadn't performed yet. They went well. I think my only bit that didn't go over as well as it could have was the last bit.
Here's where I'm a bad comic. I borrowed the structure of a Eugene Mirman joke. Not word for word, like some open mic-goers I've seen before, *cough*Gonzo*cough*, but enough of the gist of it. Like if you saw them side-by-side, you'd be like 'hey, these two look kinda similar'. In the ultimate karmic turnabout, it didn't go over as well as I thought it would. That sounds like a good death knell for that joke.
It went well. The organiser gave me a handshake during the intermission and said that I'd got some good stuff. People are nice, but it still is a good sign. I'm definitely going to be that comic who's using new stuff all the time. I'm okay with that.
I've got funny jokes. I'm going to try and get video of them soon.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Open mic 2
Venue: The Hamilton Hotel,
Date: 16 September, 2010
The Hamilton was the first Brisbane open mic I ever visited, even though I didn't perform there until tonight. In a word, the venue is problematic. The stage is erected right next to the betting parlour, and close to the TVs. If you're at the Hamilton, you're either performing or you're not there for comedy.
The problem is that you're stuck with an unwilling audience, so they're not really going to laugh at much. The upside is that going into it, you can expect that people aren't going to laugh at things. That takes the pressure off.
This night went much better. I had the little list of jokes I wanted to do all written out. I told them to the audience. They made noises back at me. The process continued for a bit too long.
If there's one thing I've learned from all my previous open mics (in the days before starting this project) its that the setup should be fairly minimal. You don't want too many words between starting the joke and the place where people are supposed to laugh. Knowing this, I'm tightening my set, getting back to something much cleaner.
Interesting footnote: Kitty's is dead. They're not using that venue anymore. The Hamilton will be dead soon too. This leaves me trying to get in at the Newmarket and wherever else they find rooms.
Date: 16 September, 2010
The Hamilton was the first Brisbane open mic I ever visited, even though I didn't perform there until tonight. In a word, the venue is problematic. The stage is erected right next to the betting parlour, and close to the TVs. If you're at the Hamilton, you're either performing or you're not there for comedy.
The problem is that you're stuck with an unwilling audience, so they're not really going to laugh at much. The upside is that going into it, you can expect that people aren't going to laugh at things. That takes the pressure off.
This night went much better. I had the little list of jokes I wanted to do all written out. I told them to the audience. They made noises back at me. The process continued for a bit too long.
If there's one thing I've learned from all my previous open mics (in the days before starting this project) its that the setup should be fairly minimal. You don't want too many words between starting the joke and the place where people are supposed to laugh. Knowing this, I'm tightening my set, getting back to something much cleaner.
Interesting footnote: Kitty's is dead. They're not using that venue anymore. The Hamilton will be dead soon too. This leaves me trying to get in at the Newmarket and wherever else they find rooms.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Open mic 1
Venue: Kitty O'Shea's
Date: September 5, 2010
If I want to make this odyssey truly satisfying, I should ideally start with nothing.
Boy, did I ever.
This night had all the elements of things going horribly wrong: the night was dark and stormy. I had no clue what I was going to do. The audience was three mostly disinterested people. All things considered, it was a good effort.
I still bombed. That's bad. Killing is good, bombing is bad and I was like amateur night at the RAF. There is no worse sound than the total absence of laughter you expect to hear. It is one of those sounds that makes the bottom of your stomach drop out and you suddenly feel
very
very
foolish.
So I cut my losses and bowed out after about three or four minutes. I'm not exactly sure how long I went on for, because silence has a way of stretching time.
Pommy Johnson, the MC for the night (and a very very funny man) got me some pity applause by saying that this was my first night.
I wanted to say that it wasn't. I knew in the past I could command a room like this and make people laugh. I've performed at the shittiest venue I know of, on nights that were (in the abstract) far worse than this. But that was years ago. I was a different person then.
If I'm going to start from nothing, then there's no better place to start than here. I felt like a complete moron for a good half hour. The show ended, I talked with the other comics, and slowly started to feel better. Walking back to the bus, I felt... alive. I had done open mic and survived. I bombed and lived to tell about it. I was already re-working the things I had said on stage, creating newer, funnier things. Things I could not wait to try.
That's why I do open mics.
Date: September 5, 2010
If I want to make this odyssey truly satisfying, I should ideally start with nothing.
Boy, did I ever.
This night had all the elements of things going horribly wrong: the night was dark and stormy. I had no clue what I was going to do. The audience was three mostly disinterested people. All things considered, it was a good effort.
I still bombed. That's bad. Killing is good, bombing is bad and I was like amateur night at the RAF. There is no worse sound than the total absence of laughter you expect to hear. It is one of those sounds that makes the bottom of your stomach drop out and you suddenly feel
very
very
foolish.
So I cut my losses and bowed out after about three or four minutes. I'm not exactly sure how long I went on for, because silence has a way of stretching time.
Pommy Johnson, the MC for the night (and a very very funny man) got me some pity applause by saying that this was my first night.
I wanted to say that it wasn't. I knew in the past I could command a room like this and make people laugh. I've performed at the shittiest venue I know of, on nights that were (in the abstract) far worse than this. But that was years ago. I was a different person then.
If I'm going to start from nothing, then there's no better place to start than here. I felt like a complete moron for a good half hour. The show ended, I talked with the other comics, and slowly started to feel better. Walking back to the bus, I felt... alive. I had done open mic and survived. I bombed and lived to tell about it. I was already re-working the things I had said on stage, creating newer, funnier things. Things I could not wait to try.
That's why I do open mics.
The manifesto
People say to follow your dreams; do what you love instead of what makes you money. Some of these people are lucky enough to already be famous. Some aren't doing what they're truly passionate about, and instead are doing something to pay the bills. What happens is that most of us are doing things we'd rather not be doing because our dreams are just a bit too far away.
I'm fighting long odds. Comedy is a soul-crushing business, I'm told. Comedy is next to impossible to make it big in. If I believe that I stand a good chance of making it big, I'm delusional. I admit and openly accept that I don't stand a good chance of being successful in my goal. That's the basis of this blog: to see if I can actually do it.
Why am I doing this? Because I want to. Because I'm a hopeless optimist who will either be sorely disappointed in the bitter reality, or I'll somehow get lucky. If I fail at my goal, feel free to mock me. Feel free to join in the chorus of people telling me that I need to grow up and face the real world.
I admit that wanting something isn't enough. There are loads of people out there who want to be famous, to be rich, to be something special. We can't get what we want just because we want it really badly. But if years of focused dedication towards a goal isn't enough to make it happen, then I don't know what is.
The current thinking says that expertise and virtuosity in something only emerges after 10,000 hours of focused and dedicated practice. That's just under 3 hours per day, every day, for ten years. That's working a full-time job for 4 years and 10 months. It takes a lot. Why do you think that so many people stop before ever getting to that level?
I've been trying to be funny for longer than I can remember. I've been writing since age 13, and it took four years for that to click. I've probably put in 1000 hours already, but none of that matters. I'm setting this arbitrary goal of 500 open mics for myself.
I want to break the mold and do what I want because it makes me happy. I might succeed. I probably will fail. But I'd rather fail doing something that fulfills me than succeed at something that leaves me unsatisfied.
I'm fighting long odds. Comedy is a soul-crushing business, I'm told. Comedy is next to impossible to make it big in. If I believe that I stand a good chance of making it big, I'm delusional. I admit and openly accept that I don't stand a good chance of being successful in my goal. That's the basis of this blog: to see if I can actually do it.
Why am I doing this? Because I want to. Because I'm a hopeless optimist who will either be sorely disappointed in the bitter reality, or I'll somehow get lucky. If I fail at my goal, feel free to mock me. Feel free to join in the chorus of people telling me that I need to grow up and face the real world.
I admit that wanting something isn't enough. There are loads of people out there who want to be famous, to be rich, to be something special. We can't get what we want just because we want it really badly. But if years of focused dedication towards a goal isn't enough to make it happen, then I don't know what is.
The current thinking says that expertise and virtuosity in something only emerges after 10,000 hours of focused and dedicated practice. That's just under 3 hours per day, every day, for ten years. That's working a full-time job for 4 years and 10 months. It takes a lot. Why do you think that so many people stop before ever getting to that level?
I've been trying to be funny for longer than I can remember. I've been writing since age 13, and it took four years for that to click. I've probably put in 1000 hours already, but none of that matters. I'm setting this arbitrary goal of 500 open mics for myself.
I want to break the mold and do what I want because it makes me happy. I might succeed. I probably will fail. But I'd rather fail doing something that fulfills me than succeed at something that leaves me unsatisfied.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)