Hog

What a difference a week makes! It makes calendars slightly larger. Or the print slightly smaller. Either way - a difference. To calendarsmiths at least.

I had an impromptu stand-up gig on Monday night. Or was it impromptu? I had about three days' notice. That probably qualifies as promptu.

It was a very nice gig at a nice venue, but I was the only comic; the other acts being poets, musicians, and, in one (fictional) case, a Venus Fly-trap who had learned to speak (it was mainly hack "fly-digestion" material).

I wasn't very good. It was my first bad gig for a long time, and it brought me back down to earth with a bump. That chandelier wasn't as strong as it looked.

AHAHAHA! Get it? I just used a metaphor and then pretended I was speaking literally. That's the kind of wit that got me so many half-smiles and a lack of eye contact.

The audience were actually pretty good, given that they weren't necessarily there for comedy, but I performed badly. I didn't have time to (re-)learn my newer, more interesting material, so I went back to my old stuff, which I know, but am a bit bored by. I should have warmed them up a bit before starting. I did some ad-libs that didn't really go anywhere, and kept coming back to them. These interjections served as regular, timely reminders of my own ineptitude.

It wasn't that bad, just a bit flat.

The worst part was just being in my own head for the whole evening. Whenever I'm out in public, I'm the most awkward person in the room. I radiate awkwardness powerful enough to blow hats off. I feel like my clothes are ridiculous, my small talk is painful and my body language screams "I'm screaming".

I know I'm awkward. People know I'm awkward. I know they know, and they know I know they know. But that just makes things worse. We're trapped in a feedback loop of mutual unease.

I spent a lot of time on my own trying to look normal. I could have tried to talk to some strangers, but I was terrified as always.

To take up some time, I genuinely wrote the following on my phone:

I'm writing this whilst perched, like a sweaty gargoyle, on the bicep of a leather sofa, because it makes me look slightly better than if i was playing tetris. It's not even proper tetris, but some loser pop game. I can't believe i'm going to have to transcribe this all later.

It has been a struggle. Well recognised, PastPaul. Though you should have capitalised your 'I's and 'Tetris'. You've made us seem like (a) chump(s).

I should just embrace the life of a hermit. I've tried to fight my nature, but I can't do it. I have to remain true to myself by myself.

There's nothing wrong with being incapable of dealing with other humans. I was born this way (shying away from the midwife), and I shouldn't have to hide it. Say it loud! I'm timid and I'm... well, not proud exactly... but... uh.... and not loud either. I don't want to... you know... draw any attention to myself...

(Apart from this whole blog about myself that I urge people to read. But at least you can't see my stupid jacket on here.)

On the way home from the gig, I saw a hedgehog. That made me feel a lot better. I like hedgehogs. I think they must be worth at least 8 points.

On the way to work, Lucy and I are sometimes cheered up by seeing animals and birds. Ordinary birds (sparrows, tits, blackbirds) are worth 1 or 2 points. A robin is worth 4. A duck is highly prized. Ducks will always cheer you up. That's why they exist. 7 points.

A squirrel is also a joyful sight. As is a puppy, or dog that's 'puppy-at-heart'. The latter requires surgery to verify, which is less cheerful.

I think a bear would be 15 points, but we haven't seen one yet. Not on Banbury Road.

***

I wrote (part of) a song at the weekend. I write songs fairly frequently, but do nothing with them. I've tried to record them properly before, but it never sounds as good as it does in my head. I blame it on my technology rather than any talent-dearth I might be suffering from.

So I thought "screw it", and just recorded this on my webcam, terrible audio and all (terrible jacket not pictured). I also split myself into four for some reason. Does that make me a band?

I think this is something about teenage sexuality, but I haven't really worked out what any of the lyrics mean.

Still... it's some mixed media. That's always good for making me feel accomplished. And look at my shirt!

(I seem to nod my head a lot when I sing. Like David Gray. Remember him? I don't. I don't even know if he's 'Gray' or 'Grey', and refuse to check on principle.)

***

I should leave it there. You can ponder what you've seen today. It doesn't just have to be this blog. Ponder everything. Did you see a shoplifter? Did you see a fishing rod? Did you see a bear?

If so: bravo.

Bra.

Vo.

The full 15 are yours.