Wednesday, August 08, 2007
zawa's
Decided after Clint"Father Goose" continued to encourage to come out to a comedy open mic at Zawa's on the drive, to go there last night. There were a few young assoicates of mine who were doing sets there, as well as some aspiring comics whom I hadn't met. They all seemed very excited to meet me, and anxious to see me perform. This was nice, after meeting so much hostility in the comedy scene. It was great reminder of what stand-up is really about, and made me feel better about it, and me doing it. I haven't done many open mics of late, but was glad I did last night.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
tuesday rain
let's see. some updates.
back to work with my shrink DR. A. We are doing a kind of therapy called EMDR, which is a way of clearing out imblance within yr noggen. Progress pscologically has been good, and I feel that I will be in a good place when I hit the road in the fall. He was very pleased to hear how well I had handled leanne's latest attempt to shame me by conjuring up all sorts of accusations about, while remaining amazingly quiet and unrepentant for her own behavior(chasing poor Richard Van Camp around). It is very easy for women to accuse men of being abusive, but the truth is, she was as mean to me as anyone has been, as well as leaving me with huge debt and medical problems. I never laid a hand on her, but she is obviously a dishonest person, and will say anything to be seen as the victim. Her not showing up at poetry events, and then sending her venom out, is simply a cover for her chronic unfaithfulness. All of this is nothing, apparently compared to my poem "She Got Fat". The poem kills whenever I do it, and of course I don't name her, although I do take pleasure in slagging Salmon Arm, which I guess might identify her a bit. That and her fat.
The Poetry Slam didn't go too well for me, as my scores for the Immune Poem weren't high enough to get me into the second round, so I headed to The Backstage Lounge, but was called away to drive and escort before I could get up. I am short on August rent, and so am trying to make as much, and spend as little as possible. Ah the life of an artist.
back to work with my shrink DR. A. We are doing a kind of therapy called EMDR, which is a way of clearing out imblance within yr noggen. Progress pscologically has been good, and I feel that I will be in a good place when I hit the road in the fall. He was very pleased to hear how well I had handled leanne's latest attempt to shame me by conjuring up all sorts of accusations about, while remaining amazingly quiet and unrepentant for her own behavior(chasing poor Richard Van Camp around). It is very easy for women to accuse men of being abusive, but the truth is, she was as mean to me as anyone has been, as well as leaving me with huge debt and medical problems. I never laid a hand on her, but she is obviously a dishonest person, and will say anything to be seen as the victim. Her not showing up at poetry events, and then sending her venom out, is simply a cover for her chronic unfaithfulness. All of this is nothing, apparently compared to my poem "She Got Fat". The poem kills whenever I do it, and of course I don't name her, although I do take pleasure in slagging Salmon Arm, which I guess might identify her a bit. That and her fat.
The Poetry Slam didn't go too well for me, as my scores for the Immune Poem weren't high enough to get me into the second round, so I headed to The Backstage Lounge, but was called away to drive and escort before I could get up. I am short on August rent, and so am trying to make as much, and spend as little as possible. Ah the life of an artist.
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