Sometimes comedy feels very difficult, although not, as a non comedian might expect, the getting on stage and talking to the crowd of strangers part. This week, it feels hard because of the contacting people and selling yourself as the next big thing to hit the comedy world. Since those cans of springy snakes, obviously.
This week, the decision to continue comedy as a viable means of supporting myself feels like someone a few years back said, "Hey, that's a great cross stitch you've done there... You should go pro..." So I did, I quit my job and spent all my money on aida (technical term - more than a one trick pony me) and thread and spent my days quietly being good at something that was totally useless.
Obviously, all is nowhere near as bleak as I would make out. In fact, it's a pretty exciting time... it's just the continual worry of the self employed person that nags away saying... well, yes you've got gigs this week but what about next week? Hmmmm?
Of course, I have made matters entirely harder for myself by moving to Brighton. Not exactly my choice - thanks to the good old London Olympics my rent was increased by 30% - yep, so, apologies if I'm not waving any flags come August but I was practically evicted from my house by people profiteering from people who are very good at running in circles very fast. Hurrah. Excuse me while I still think athletes are just the people who were better than me at school, only now they're being shoe horned into tampon adverts for no apparent reason that makes any sense to an avid tampon fan.
However, I must say Brighton has been fairly welcoming - they got the sun out and have given me full use of the beach with some excellent gigs and some pleasant theatre reviews too. Isn't that dandy. I shall blog more when I'm less of a grumpus.