Dash

My heart is racing.

My mind is racing.

My pulse is racing.

My chin was disqualified because of a false start.

7,000 laps to go.

(My tongue is also racing)

***

Don't think that I'm living in some kind of hole. I haven't been blogging or tweeting much because my attention has been diverted elsewhere. I'm building a wicker caber.

That's untrue, but it could be false. That's what makes it all so exciting.

I've been trying to write the beginnings of a sitcom. I've also been thinking up material for a stand-up gig on Friday.

I'm doing all new stuff for no particular reason. I've decided that my gigs are so infrequent that there's no point in honing old stuff. It would be like shaving a tunnelling dog: by the time it comes back, it will be shaggy and covered in big clods of earth.

So I might as well just do something different each time. That can be my thing. I can demonstrate how prolific I am for a short period every few months.

I haven't had a bad gig for a while, so I'm probably due one. To protect against that, I've come up with some clever ways of turning the gig around:

1) Whitney Houston jokes
2) Breakdancing
3) Put down a heckler who resembles an empty stool
4) Pretend to drop the microphone, and then pick it up (pretend)
5) Say "Is this thing on?" about every object in the room. Even ones that can't be off or on, like a poster.
6) My legendary impersonation of Alistair McGowan
7) Simon Says
8) Pretend I'm playing basketball and then have myself ejected for "gluttonous travelling"
9) Worship some kind of holy tree.

I've only got nine. Ten would be excessive.

***

I haven't got much time. I want to finish this blog post before I reach a particular clock time. It has imbued my writing with a sense of purpose that I will never is for something I perfect semsme klu

I've also had coffee.

You'd think I would have realised that when:
a) I noticed myself drinking some coffee
and
b) various parts of my body were racing

But it was only a few seconds ago that I realised how jumpy I was. A colleague's phone rang and I jumped so high that I've been declared clinically airborne. It's lucky I was holding onto my keyboard.

I need to learn how to marshal my own chemical intake. One minute I'm hopped up on caffeine, the next I'm necking liquid palladium just so I don't lose face with an gang of "ghost peers" who wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for those three paracetamol I had for brunch.

Time's nearly up. This must be what it's like when you're making an Oscar acceptance speech. Too little time, too many neurotic producers to conspicuously omit.

This will be my Oscar acceptance speech.

I couldn't have done this without Nancy, Brad, Brod, Lynne, Squedrick, Phil, Danielle, Brynn and Leroy Rosenior.

THAT IS ALL