A Man's Words

Here I am, at home at 1.46am on Thursday morning with work beginning at 9.45am.  What I will now attempt to do is convey and express my thoughts and feelings of this rather tumultuous evening.  Tumultuous to none outside my head no doubt, but inside there lay chaos.

It was the 5th anniversary of the Edinburgh Revue this year and we had a show to celebrate, a collection of sketches and stand up from years past, split into two sections, roughly correlating to the first three years and the last two.  Now in actual point of fact I have been a member of the Edinburgh Revue (Comedy and That to those who were there) since September 2006.  Four and a half years.  One half year less than it’s entire existence. 

Unfortunately when I say member, that term is rather loose.  I discovered the Revue at Fresher’s Week 2006 with a flyer on the back of the comedy watching society (which I never attended…) and met with what seemed like incredibly scary people (who now include some very good friends of mine) in Dagda Bar at some point shortly after that.  I was at the first show where the audience comprised mostly drunk homeless men someone had brought along and I think there was a very racist Asian stand up (called Tommy perhaps?).  I did some sketches, some of which I wrote, not too long after that but then my gran died and the long term relationship I was in fell apart almost completely, which it had been threatening for a long time.  So clearly I was in no mood for comedy.  Hence I retreated.

I ended up behind the bar in the Canon’s Gait (the setting for tonight’s show, apt but heartwrenching in associations for me), filming from the sidelines, supremely jealous of those on stage, wishing to explore what I could do with them.  But rarely talking to those people.  Running away.

Come September 2008, having escaped from aforementioned long term relationship and meeting a new breed of Revue members (who now certainly include my closest friends) I began to perform sketches.  And stand up.  And go to Sheffield Comedy Festival.  And be in A Big Egg at the Fringe 2009.  And feel part of something.

Many wonderful things have happened since then.  Who is Jean?, headlining the Revue, compering the Revue, We Happy Few and much more.  All of this is because of that society and these people.  And yet I cannot escape how sad tonight made me.  Missed opportunities.  Regret of who I should have been back then.  Obsessively wondering why I rarely talked to those I admired on that stage in the Canon’s Gait, even when the material they performed was not to my taste, at least they were up there, they were doing it.  And I wasn’t.

I have no legacy with the Revue.  I have never served a committee position and never will.  I have never given back what I owe.  And that is everything to do with my comedy career, such as it is.  And all of that was going on while I was trying to remember lines for sketches I was in tonight, while wonderful people were checking I was ok, hugging me, singing Disney songs with me. 

I cannot truly express my regret at having to leave the celebrations to come home and sleep before work tomorrow.  Leaving is all I ever used to do and it tore my heart to pieces doing that tonight.  But I left with the feeling that those I said goodbye to knew me.  And wanted me to stay.  So perhaps that is the difference now.  I’d better go before these tears make me write more.  I am raw but open.  Not closed.  With friends but at home alone.  A mess but neatly wrapped up in a blog post. 

Thank you Edinburgh Revue for making and forming a me I can almost be proud of.

These words will not be reckless, they merely discuss the idea of recklessivity.  Though making up that word was slightly reckless I suppose.

I spoke to two different people about the subject of recklessness yesterday and it is definitely an element that is missing from my life.  I have recently been more reckless with the amount of sleep I’ve been having and the amount I have been drinking but still within reasonable limits.  I seem unable disconnect my logical, sensible brain and go beyond limits I feel are normal.  I suppose it is related to spontaneity too, something I am most certainly trying to embrace but unfortunately I did that by writing spontaneity on a To-Do list.

I think I want the same thing from my comedy performance too.  My brain runs much faster than my stand up persona to date and I don’t really think I’m the deadpan, laconic man I project in stand up.  I have injected more energy into my performance recently but again, haven’t properly let go.  My first time compering two weeks ago allowed for some spontaneous fun but that did end with a girl having to leave crying during the first break (not an expected or particularly warranted reaction, but there we go).  It won’t put me off compering or speaking to people but shows what can happen when you haven’t planned everything.  Even if I had planned everything I might have made her cry anyway, I did use quite a lot of tortuous wordplay and that can evoke strong emotional reactions.

Both people I spoke to about recklessness mean a lot to me and are a challenging and refreshing influence.  I will try to learn from them.  But, as with much of my current development and discovery of who I am, it is actually entirely down to me.

I have ten minutes until I give my first tour of the day and haven’t been on here (visibly) for a while.  The parentheses there allude to the fact I have a draft of a review for Submarine that will be completed at some point.  Maybe tonight.

But anyway, We Happy Few last night was a great success by all involved.  I hugely enjoyed playing a cowboy and my favourite part was probably the very first yee-haw as I came down the stairs.  That or showing Niall up when he forgot a line.  A truly enjoyable show that demonstrated what WHF is all about, inclusivity of performers and audience, all being part of something never to be repeated.

Right, tourists beckon.  This post is less angst filled than they normally are.  I wonder if maybe I’m feeling better.

I’ve never quite felt this unsettled before. This is entirely a situation of my own making, I am convinced it is the right thing for me to have done and there are definitely positives too but I feel like I’m constantly making small adjustments to achieve equilibrium and overshooting.

I almost feel the need to apologise for how self regarding I am being with this blog but I think it might be helping.  Or feeding the problem.  Either way, I am unlikely to stop.  As I was saying to a friend of mine last night I hope that this blog will continue once I achieve some sort of life balance and maybe then I’ll be writing witty, entertaining entries for all the world to see.  For now it remains those worried about me who will have read this far.  Thanks to those in that camp.

Those positives I mentioned - I am able to give attention to the many wonderful projects that are continuing; Who is Jean?,  We Happy Few, my own stand up progression (I hesitate to use the word career at this early undefined stage), filmmaking, film watching (and eventually reviewing) and general socialising.  I am more of a social animal than I realised (or as the same friend mentioned earlier also said last night, attention whore…)  I am in the process of discovery of a new person here and I am interested to meet him.

I can’t deny I am on edge, unsettled and disequilibricised (an invented but hugely fun word).  Maybe that is who this man is.  Well, it certainly is for now.

As you might know I recently entered a filmmaking competition for California Classics to remake a scene or the entirety of a film set in or filmed in California.  The prize is a trip to California to film some part of said film for real.  The film is 500 Days of Summer.  And today I received a message on Facebook from someone involved alluding to the fact that we will hear the results today. 

“Hey James Zoe will be in contact in a bit… *hears a distant sound of twilight zone themeness* :)”

The mention of ominous Twilight Zone music is unsettling and very hard to interpret.  I have of course done a little bit of investigation to see who else might have been contacted in the same way but no results are forthcoming.  And there is no “may” or “might” in that message.  But that’s just my optimism shining through I imagine.  Or bounding through panting and wagging his tail, for those in the know.  My realism would also point out that “in a bit…” is rather a vague timescale so waiting can only lead to suffering.  Like the dark side.

So here I am, at work on the computer, waiting.  I was going to be waiting anyway as I finished at 4.30pm and the leaving drinks planned for tonight start at 6pm.  But now my waiting has purpose.  Also known as frustration. 

Just to add to the confusion, perhaps this post (which will appear on Facebook and thus potentially be seen by the person I was contacted by) will inspire a further cryptic message in a slightly meta-textual way.  One can only hope.

So.  I was offered hot fireball sex last night in Banshee Labyrinth.  I said no for reasons that will become abundantly clear in the course of this post.  Wow, this post is like every episode of a rubbish American TV series that gives the ending away first.

I was out for a wonderful night out with Robert and Duncan, ostenisbly to celebrate Duncan getting his PhD, though it was also a “cheer James up” type deal I believe.  We had a very enjoyable burger in Holyrood 9A (along with Noah and Clarisse, one of whom only had dessert) then moved on to The Malt Shovel and finally Banshee Labyrinth.  Whiskies started happening at The Malt Shovel (I must recommend Lagavulin, a wonderful dram recommended to me but I’ll take credit for now) and continued at the Banshee.  I was initially reluctant to go there having spent much time there filming and do comedy but it is open late and nice and quiet midweek.

Excepting girls called Ruth who come to join your table.  Duncan is a man very happy to talk to strangers and have them talk to him so we started chatting and it became apparent quickly that she and I were not of the same stock.  She mentioned drugs as her passion, seemed to advocate the sexualisation of children (though perhaps I took her logic to an extreme) and managed to tell us about her abusive father in the space of roughly 30 minutes.  As the conversation seemed to be winding down she mentioned I had very hairy arms and then took her phone out and asked me to put my number in.  It means one thing.

I said no.  She asked why.  I said I had felt no connection with her at all in the course of our conversation (I had in fact been sitting with arms folded laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation during most of it) and she said something about “well sex can be a connection”.  I asked her to clarify what she’d said and she said

“We could have had hot fireball sex”

Not a phrase I’ve ever heard or even had the potential to be partially involved in.  Shortly afterwards she mentioned she was in a relationship anyway and then she moved on.  I feel it is important to share this information because I’m not sure my brain can process any of what it means yet.  It probably means nothing and yet I have written about it.  So now maybe it does.

I think it just fried my brain.  But it is a little bit awesome.

clarisseloughrey:

Now THAT is exactly the kind of kick-start I need this morning. 

I failed.  I wrote nothing pertaining to any sketches this weekend.  But the planned sketch meeting was beset by various illnesses and I gained a slight reprise.  The cancelled meeting also meant that I joined some work colleagues for a drink instead.

This seems to have been a good choice as I worked through some of my ridiculous angsting about my new life and what it might mean (see Twitter for details, wait, actually don’t bother, it was ridiculous).  I got rid of some of the weight of worry by talking it all through.  The topics were familiar ones; existence is interaction, some selfishness is requisite for happiness and The King’s Speech is not surprising but beautifully crafted.

I have watched two slightly disappointing things since coming in (Being Human didn’t go where it needed to, The Fly (1986) is beautifully disgusting but plays as a series of vignettes not a flowing film) and now feel the need to onanise in a new extended format here on Tumblr.  I feel a slight need to consume something more satisfying but tiredness may be a limiting factor.

Contact today with people both known (those drinks) and relatively unknown (through unexpected texts and the engagement of tourists with what I was saying) has brought me from entirely self-obsessed doldrums to an awareness of how much it means that others are there.

I feel I may have suffered the problems I ascribed to The Fly with this post so perhaps I should go and write other words in a refreshed state tomorrow.

One half of this blog duo is the inspiration for my previous post.  Some would say the better half.  Others wouldn’t.  I daren’t say anything.

catandabidolent:

‘a mild desire, a wish or urge too slight to lead to action’

‘a desire to see something done, but not enough desire to make it happen’

an excellent word my life.

Why on earth does it take so much effort to actually start writing words for something constructive?  I mean not this, I’m just typing this without much thought as to where it might be going.  I suppose this is training my hands to be typing in the vain hope that I might somehow alt-tab to the Celtx file that is open in the non browser window and that the words will flow for the sketches there as they have here.

I learned a new word this afternoon “velleity - a wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action” and it is more apt to my situation than I realised earlier.  I mean, it’s a word that sounds and looks absolutely beautiful but it probably describes how I used to feel a lot of the time.  It’s a difficult definition because I think it needs some qualification of how strong the inclination might actually be.  The threshold for action is hugely variable in different situations and I have been a person in the past for whom my wishes or inclinations, however fervent I believed them to be, led only to frustration and not action.  

That is not the case any more as evidenced by the many wonderful things that are progressing in my hoped for careers in film-making and comedy but still, every time I try to sit down to write something the effort involved surely isn’t justified.  If only I could train myself to somehow get things done, I’d get more things done.  But that is not the way of life.  

So now I have typed (almost) four paragraphs about nothing but my inability to do things I want to I think I’d better actually go and do that thing.  I have cowboys to write words for.

I have been inspired to try this tumblr malarkey out by this blog

http://catandabidolent.tumblr.com/

It looks pretty and I had no idea it was this easy.  I have little to say for now really, I am not long out of bed and it is nearly 2pm but that odd time schedule seems to be dominating my life at the moment.  Today is a day of writing sketches and then perhaps trying to get an early night for once this week.  That will not happen.

So it appears I’ve said my first blog-based words, there should be more at some point.