What? oh yes, that ol' cliche.
You know when things come to an end, especially when you're about to leave a place, when you wake up in the morning and start planning your day and calculate the time you got left to execute each activity you set your self to do.
So i don't know whether I'm going to fly tomorrow (Friday the 13Th) or next week, in any case my flight back to the UK is on the 19Th but i would be better off returning beforehand.
That decision is mainly to do with money, yes money, that ol' cliche.
I have to pay money to change my flight and at the same time i don't have to pay at all to do that if i stay till the 19Th, one of those dilemmas we all face once in a while when it comes to money - 'I already am paying for this, so what difference does it make if i add a bit more money and just....' dilemmas that make life more interesting and spiced with brave decisions about money handling, where is Bernie Madoff when you need him to fix you up with some cash you want to invest, ha?
Movies I've seen so far in NY - 'Che' part 1 - interesting and factual, for the lovers of the revolutionist and his pop culture heroic status.
'Synecdoche New York' - A tangled surrealist legend about a play write who's body is falling apart in the beginning of the movie and then his personality and his mind follow up in the middle and end of it. Kind of 'Deconstructing Harry' meets the 'Truman Show' and a touch of 'Lost highway'. It's a Charlie Kaufman shtick and is a hefty dose of cinematic philosophy which leaves you wondering - how long was i sleeping and when did Diane Wist had joined the cast?
'Frost Vs Nixon'- A tour the force, as film critics would call this one, and i agree. It's the famous David frost shindig where he interviewed the ashamed Nixon after he parted from office based on the allegations of the Watergate shambles. Frank Langella, whom i will track down his filmography for sure, plays a very dour, spiteful and defiant Nixon while Michael sheen completes this excellent two hander gripping drama by playing the fast living, womanising and very determined Frost in his BBC heydays. Must be seen by every future wannabe strong character TV presenter who wants to make a career in the small screen by grilling politicians.
'The class' or 'entre les murs' as it's known by it's original french title who won the Canne best film award in 2008, is the story of troubled and misbehaved pupils in their Early teens making part of one classroom in a special school in Paris.
It's a microcosm of modern french society where sons and daughters of immigrants, mostly Arab and west Africans are tangled in an identity crisis filled with disdain towards french society and french people in general. The origins of this hatred and feeling of rebellion has to do a lot with the fact that most of these kids have grown up in what is called 'Cites' in France which are a reminiscent of modern day council estates in the UK or projects in the US, with once crucial difference - they are located far away from city centres and thus are some sort of Ghettos in the middle of nowhere where the younger generation feels excluded and without much of a future to become an equal part of the white indigenous french society which leaves those kids very angry and frustrated.
It's a gripping doco-drama with children actors who play themselves and come across as handfuls to those trying to educated them and teach them the subjects taught in french schools.
'The Wrestler' - OK so what is all the fuss about Mickey Rourke not winning best actor academy award for his part? Great film none the less but still lacking some important parts in the plot. It's a great come back for Rourke but still, better films and better performances were shown this year.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Snowy month of January has passed
Dear oh dear, what a month that was.
New york, my city of choix, i officially declare that, it should become my status on facebook - 'NY, my city...' ah smug, ah I love smug, ah I feel smug. And how do i know all that? because I read the village voice when everyone else is reading the daily press (the equivalent to the Sun, horrible horrible piece of reading, without the page 3 though) and when everyone else is carrying those black carrier bags I carry a recyclable paper carrier bag from the 'Whole food store'.
Now if there was a Heaven somewhere, where you go when you're dead, and that heaven would happen to be a food store, this is how it would look like.
I can't even start to describe the wholeness (hence the name), the richness, the pleasure and the absolute fine delicacies that are stacked on the shelves, fridges, carving boards, salad and desserts bars and fromagerie, not to mention the fruit and veg section and the second floor with all the big organic, fresh, un this and un that creams, soaps, air fresheners and rubbish refuse sacks that you can add to all your organic, fresh, un this and un that food that you can buy or eat there.
I was there on the day of the Superbowl and as an approval of my growing smugness (or just not compromising on good, fresh high quality food, there, I'm done apologising) this lady stood next to me just as I was exploring the milk and butter section, searching for butter that was produced from some super cows who only ate super grass in a super farm, and was talking on her phone.
Then when she said to the other person on the line - 'we people who shop at this store obviously don't care about no Superbowl' I was close enough to hear it and it was one of those moments when you know that the other person wanted you to hear it.
So I managed a very humble smile, and she looked at me and said down the phone - 'The guy next to me with the guitar on his back (i carried a guitar on my back that day) is smiling' she continued 'we artsy fartsy people don't care about no Superbowl'. She had a heavy Brooklyn accent and later I saw her eating a soup from the soup bar and throwing away the cup, very artsy fartsy indeed.
As for me, i was just about to pay when I noticed a chips bar (Pomme frites as the artsies and fartsies call it) and had to order the small portion, only because I knew I'm not going to get any potatoes which by any chance were not just picked up yesterday (or even that morning) and might have received a splash or two of some potato enhancing taste and were about to be sent straight to MacDonald's at the crack of dawn.
I had given a choice of about 3775 sauces (well slightly less, but it felt like it was this many
for my tired eyes) and finally chose the pesto mayonnaise. Not only that, but when they frites had come out all grizzling oil from the fryer, the man tossed them real good with some Hawaiian salt. 'Spicy' was the only word he said and walked away.
I paid for my shopping and left into the chilly evening.
I was about to cross over to East Houston st, when a Homeless man approached me, he said - 'want to help the Homeless? one day they'll help you'.
I almost wanted to turn my head and praise him for that thought and give him my garlic bagel i just purchased, but something inside stopped me from doing so, probably because I felt this very strong feeling that I can't help everyone on the street, so why even start right now?
I had so many occasions where I could have given something to someone who presented a very good display of emotions but I didn't in the end.
It reminded me of my trip to India in 2000 - so many beggars, so many sick people asking for your money, small children carrying their baby sisters and brothers, and you the western Oligarch, walking around them with your big Rupee notes.
There was no point giving anything to anyone if you were to spend time at the same spot for say more than two weeks, so I've learned. Reason being that you were to end up being chased around for more and the word would travel to the neighbouring village where everyone will come from there to ask you as well.
I always used to randomly pick a beggar and left a small donation as I was leaving the place, that was a goodbye gesture and sign of appreciation to the people who were out there struggling at each moment of the day to earn or scrounge a rupee or two while being subjected to insults and physical abuse from local passers by or hot headed policeman who had nothing better to do.
I'm going to do the same thing here when I leave - I'll pick my bum randomly and leave something, some loose change, or a piece of fruit, or maybe even a portion of pomme frites from the 'whole food store' with some Pesto mayo or some sophisticated sauce like that. And not to forget the Hawaiian salt of course, Mmmm 'Spicy' I'll say to the person who'll kindly take it from me, and then I'll just turn and walk away.
New york, my city of choix, i officially declare that, it should become my status on facebook - 'NY, my city...' ah smug, ah I love smug, ah I feel smug. And how do i know all that? because I read the village voice when everyone else is reading the daily press (the equivalent to the Sun, horrible horrible piece of reading, without the page 3 though) and when everyone else is carrying those black carrier bags I carry a recyclable paper carrier bag from the 'Whole food store'.
Now if there was a Heaven somewhere, where you go when you're dead, and that heaven would happen to be a food store, this is how it would look like.
I can't even start to describe the wholeness (hence the name), the richness, the pleasure and the absolute fine delicacies that are stacked on the shelves, fridges, carving boards, salad and desserts bars and fromagerie, not to mention the fruit and veg section and the second floor with all the big organic, fresh, un this and un that creams, soaps, air fresheners and rubbish refuse sacks that you can add to all your organic, fresh, un this and un that food that you can buy or eat there.
I was there on the day of the Superbowl and as an approval of my growing smugness (or just not compromising on good, fresh high quality food, there, I'm done apologising) this lady stood next to me just as I was exploring the milk and butter section, searching for butter that was produced from some super cows who only ate super grass in a super farm, and was talking on her phone.
Then when she said to the other person on the line - 'we people who shop at this store obviously don't care about no Superbowl' I was close enough to hear it and it was one of those moments when you know that the other person wanted you to hear it.
So I managed a very humble smile, and she looked at me and said down the phone - 'The guy next to me with the guitar on his back (i carried a guitar on my back that day) is smiling' she continued 'we artsy fartsy people don't care about no Superbowl'. She had a heavy Brooklyn accent and later I saw her eating a soup from the soup bar and throwing away the cup, very artsy fartsy indeed.
As for me, i was just about to pay when I noticed a chips bar (Pomme frites as the artsies and fartsies call it) and had to order the small portion, only because I knew I'm not going to get any potatoes which by any chance were not just picked up yesterday (or even that morning) and might have received a splash or two of some potato enhancing taste and were about to be sent straight to MacDonald's at the crack of dawn.
I had given a choice of about 3775 sauces (well slightly less, but it felt like it was this many
for my tired eyes) and finally chose the pesto mayonnaise. Not only that, but when they frites had come out all grizzling oil from the fryer, the man tossed them real good with some Hawaiian salt. 'Spicy' was the only word he said and walked away.
I paid for my shopping and left into the chilly evening.
I was about to cross over to East Houston st, when a Homeless man approached me, he said - 'want to help the Homeless? one day they'll help you'.
I almost wanted to turn my head and praise him for that thought and give him my garlic bagel i just purchased, but something inside stopped me from doing so, probably because I felt this very strong feeling that I can't help everyone on the street, so why even start right now?
I had so many occasions where I could have given something to someone who presented a very good display of emotions but I didn't in the end.
It reminded me of my trip to India in 2000 - so many beggars, so many sick people asking for your money, small children carrying their baby sisters and brothers, and you the western Oligarch, walking around them with your big Rupee notes.
There was no point giving anything to anyone if you were to spend time at the same spot for say more than two weeks, so I've learned. Reason being that you were to end up being chased around for more and the word would travel to the neighbouring village where everyone will come from there to ask you as well.
I always used to randomly pick a beggar and left a small donation as I was leaving the place, that was a goodbye gesture and sign of appreciation to the people who were out there struggling at each moment of the day to earn or scrounge a rupee or two while being subjected to insults and physical abuse from local passers by or hot headed policeman who had nothing better to do.
I'm going to do the same thing here when I leave - I'll pick my bum randomly and leave something, some loose change, or a piece of fruit, or maybe even a portion of pomme frites from the 'whole food store' with some Pesto mayo or some sophisticated sauce like that. And not to forget the Hawaiian salt of course, Mmmm 'Spicy' I'll say to the person who'll kindly take it from me, and then I'll just turn and walk away.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
So it's been like 3 weeks plus since I've landed in NYC.
The one thing that's been on my mind since I got here is how I love everything here, simply admire it, even the dirt and filth swarming between the rails of the subway. Now as for rodents walking on the tracks - they're all rats, haven't seen one mouse, this one's reserved as a London display of underground wildlife that you won't find here. I guess as the theory goes - where there's mice there are no rats and vice verse(so i was once told by a man who kills rodents and insects for a living) now it is becoming clear why i haven't seen even one mouse yet running around helplessly on the tracks, while trying to find cover from the intimidating presence of humans.
I can go on and on wondering about rats and mice living in NYC subway but it's not really what i wanted to talk about on this blog. I'll try and portray a picture for all of you out there who'll be reading this piece of writing, may be out of sheer interest in my adventures, or just to kill some time, but whatever reason that may be, I'll try and spare as much interesting details, anecdotes and funny stories that I can possibly think of in the course of my time here to give you some good time while sharing my experience as I go along.
I live in w184Th Street which is in Washington heights near the Washington bridge. Yesterday I was told it was part of Harlem, I was surprised because I always imagined Harlem to be some kind of a danger zone, out of limits for white people where you can't walk outside late at night, apparently I was wrong.
The uniqueness of this area is that it's all Dominican/Spanish inhabited and the vibe is all in all quite friendly. Yes there are the odd dodgy looking type whom you can't figure out and just what do they mean when they're staring at you but hey, we've all stared at someone at some point in our lives and they must have felt strange being stared at by us, now do they?
So the comedy scene here which I've come to check is pretty much different from the one I'm used to in the UK. Much more comics, or aspiring ones at least, ranging from the genuinely funny and original to the boring, unfunny and mentally challenged ones, who are treading along each evening in those open mics nights. Some of these evenings are better then others, but mostly be prepared to be stared at (and judged by) those other comedians who are on the same bill with you.
The feeling of standing on the same stage as some of your personal comedy heroes is quite uplifting and flattering, so much for that when you do it in front of no real paying audience.
The last one I did in a place such as this one ('purpose built' is the word for that) was one in the east village which had 3 people left in there after a bill of about 15, and they were all tired, jaded and just wanted to resume their lives. Unlike every other business, show business is the cruelest of them all in my opinion, but, I also believe that the rewards can be far beyond our own predictions and small-ego mentality of failure or success pre-conseptions that we have accumulated from day one of wanting to be part of that business.
21/1/09
I barked (Meaning I stood outside in the freezing cold trying to get people in) for the first time on Wed just gone. Two guys approached me, one of them had a dog, a bull mastif from what I could recognize, mixed with something else.
When you stand outside trying to bring people in from the street, you have to be engaging immediatelly, meaning - you have to engage them imedtailety as they walk pass you (most likely on their way to somewhere else) to go down into a free comedy show and promise them that they're going to have a life changing experience through the next 2 hours. I used to flyer for stage time in London, that's much easier. A flyer is a piece of paper with words and drawings on it, it offers information to whomever takes it from you. In other words, you cannot change the contents of it, and the person who took it from you may or may not use that information to come to the advertised event or not. But when you have to talk to someone who swiftly passes by you and could, in some cases, react in a manner which can leave you humilated or curse the moment you volountereed to do this then it's a different matter altogether.
Let's go back to the two guys who approached me with the dog. Turns out it was a she and that the guy who was holding her on the leash just got out of jail that same morning.
Both took interest in what I was doing and why in the name of allah/jehovah/jesus and the devil I was standing there freezing my ass off.
Then the guy who got out of jail asked me if I wanted to see something cool, I said sure why not?
So he lifted the dog up and showed me her belly, there was a tatoo on it of a gun, a Barreta.
I asked how on earth could he have tattooed the animal without it going totally berzerk and he replied that she was asleep when they tatooed her. I don't want to even think how and with what she was put to sleep.
The other guy was less talkative but his gaze was direct and calm and he had a hearty smile, i connected with them both so they offered to bark with me. Not soon after the other guy (the less talkative one) stood in the middle of the sidewalk, almost blocking the passersbys and saying that Barack Obama was downstairs giving autographs, we managed to pull 4 people in, that was fun.
I suggested he should ask for a spot to go on stage and try some comedy, but he politely declined and they both wished me a good evening and good luck with my future plans and took off.
I was kind of curious to know why his friend with the dog did time in jail, but I didn't get to ask that. He did remind me a bit of the type of inmates you see in reality shows about jails in america on the National Geographic channel.
30/1/09
OK, I wanted to write something earlier but just didn't have time, or rather was tool lazy to let my creative bloging juices flow into the keyboard.
It's Friday evening, didn't go to an open mic tonight, got really late with all this 'day to day running around, everybody knows this is nowhere' as Neil Young rightly put it.
Meaning - woke up again at mid day, dazed with some remains of a dream about my past. This is a metaphizycal reaction to Geographical distance, or just cheap and meaningless reminiscence about my 'Youth I pray to keep' as Chris Cornell rightly out it. That's just too much of a load to figure out for you readers, maybe I'll just write about subway rodents again?
Talk about Subway experiences, on late Tuesday (or was it Monday? or Wednesday? who gives a toss, it all seems the same to me since I got here) I took the 1 train uptown back to where I stay, and sat close to the door. This large woman walked in (her race is not important, but she wasn't white) and while i was hovering over some story about shootings in Brooklyn on the new york post that i found laying around, she asked me to move so she could sit down. I was about to move when the next thing I know i hear this thud and turn my head just to see she's laying on the floor of the coach. So like any good and considerate samaritain I rushed over and was trying to help her to get back on her feet. The other two people who were sitting oposite didn't seem to care that much, they were asleep. So I grab her by the one hand, and she goes - 'this arm is fractured, try the other arm' so I do, but the only problem is she is too heavy for me to hold her all the way up and with a moving train underneath, the laws of phyzics were not on my side, or hers for that matter. Finally I made eye contact with the other fellow who just opened his eyes and she asked him for help. So he naturally came over to grab her from the other hand, the one with the fracture. So she starts telling him not to, so he reaches for her coat and drags her by it and both of us almost fall backwards trying to pull her up (I kept thinking how a crane could have come handy at this moment, why is there never one around when you need it?)
Finally and after starining a few muscles, we get her back up on her feet. That was my work out for the week, who needs to pay money to work out in a Jym when you can help large women of the floor of a train at 2 o'clock in the morning?
Historical fact of the week: The name Brooklyn comes from Dutch and means 'Broken Land'.
Penny's is an open mic night that happens evety Wednesday at a local underground theatre on St. Mark's place on the east village. It is a home to poets, spoken word, musicians and the odd comedians. It's got regular performers who come to perform a 7 minte piece each week.
This Wednesday just gone was my 2nd time there, I realy enjoy this place, it's got an amazing atmosphere and the girl who host it, Penny is really sweet and supportive.
The performers are randomelly picked out from a bucket, previous to that everyone writes their names on small notes which go inside the bucket and Penny then pulls them out and once your name is read, you sign up on a list which becomes the running order of the night. There are 35 to 40 perfomers at each night whic means you can be either number 1 or 35/37..40.
The beuaty of all this is that most of the people stay till the end which is at 2 am in the morning.
I have seen the most eccentric perfomers along with the bizzare and the funny.
I go down pretty well there, I had the late slot the other night but it gave me enough energy to push the envelope a bit further than usual. The people who were there really enjoyed it and it gave me a dose of encouragment and I proved to myself that I don't have to hide behind my fears of speaking my mind and be hilarious at the same time, something which I always inspire to be on stage.
I know I can find my voice, I'm on the good track, finally.
The one thing that's been on my mind since I got here is how I love everything here, simply admire it, even the dirt and filth swarming between the rails of the subway. Now as for rodents walking on the tracks - they're all rats, haven't seen one mouse, this one's reserved as a London display of underground wildlife that you won't find here. I guess as the theory goes - where there's mice there are no rats and vice verse(so i was once told by a man who kills rodents and insects for a living) now it is becoming clear why i haven't seen even one mouse yet running around helplessly on the tracks, while trying to find cover from the intimidating presence of humans.
I can go on and on wondering about rats and mice living in NYC subway but it's not really what i wanted to talk about on this blog. I'll try and portray a picture for all of you out there who'll be reading this piece of writing, may be out of sheer interest in my adventures, or just to kill some time, but whatever reason that may be, I'll try and spare as much interesting details, anecdotes and funny stories that I can possibly think of in the course of my time here to give you some good time while sharing my experience as I go along.
I live in w184Th Street which is in Washington heights near the Washington bridge. Yesterday I was told it was part of Harlem, I was surprised because I always imagined Harlem to be some kind of a danger zone, out of limits for white people where you can't walk outside late at night, apparently I was wrong.
The uniqueness of this area is that it's all Dominican/Spanish inhabited and the vibe is all in all quite friendly. Yes there are the odd dodgy looking type whom you can't figure out and just what do they mean when they're staring at you but hey, we've all stared at someone at some point in our lives and they must have felt strange being stared at by us, now do they?
So the comedy scene here which I've come to check is pretty much different from the one I'm used to in the UK. Much more comics, or aspiring ones at least, ranging from the genuinely funny and original to the boring, unfunny and mentally challenged ones, who are treading along each evening in those open mics nights. Some of these evenings are better then others, but mostly be prepared to be stared at (and judged by) those other comedians who are on the same bill with you.
The feeling of standing on the same stage as some of your personal comedy heroes is quite uplifting and flattering, so much for that when you do it in front of no real paying audience.
The last one I did in a place such as this one ('purpose built' is the word for that) was one in the east village which had 3 people left in there after a bill of about 15, and they were all tired, jaded and just wanted to resume their lives. Unlike every other business, show business is the cruelest of them all in my opinion, but, I also believe that the rewards can be far beyond our own predictions and small-ego mentality of failure or success pre-conseptions that we have accumulated from day one of wanting to be part of that business.
21/1/09
I barked (Meaning I stood outside in the freezing cold trying to get people in) for the first time on Wed just gone. Two guys approached me, one of them had a dog, a bull mastif from what I could recognize, mixed with something else.
When you stand outside trying to bring people in from the street, you have to be engaging immediatelly, meaning - you have to engage them imedtailety as they walk pass you (most likely on their way to somewhere else) to go down into a free comedy show and promise them that they're going to have a life changing experience through the next 2 hours. I used to flyer for stage time in London, that's much easier. A flyer is a piece of paper with words and drawings on it, it offers information to whomever takes it from you. In other words, you cannot change the contents of it, and the person who took it from you may or may not use that information to come to the advertised event or not. But when you have to talk to someone who swiftly passes by you and could, in some cases, react in a manner which can leave you humilated or curse the moment you volountereed to do this then it's a different matter altogether.
Let's go back to the two guys who approached me with the dog. Turns out it was a she and that the guy who was holding her on the leash just got out of jail that same morning.
Both took interest in what I was doing and why in the name of allah/jehovah/jesus and the devil I was standing there freezing my ass off.
Then the guy who got out of jail asked me if I wanted to see something cool, I said sure why not?
So he lifted the dog up and showed me her belly, there was a tatoo on it of a gun, a Barreta.
I asked how on earth could he have tattooed the animal without it going totally berzerk and he replied that she was asleep when they tatooed her. I don't want to even think how and with what she was put to sleep.
The other guy was less talkative but his gaze was direct and calm and he had a hearty smile, i connected with them both so they offered to bark with me. Not soon after the other guy (the less talkative one) stood in the middle of the sidewalk, almost blocking the passersbys and saying that Barack Obama was downstairs giving autographs, we managed to pull 4 people in, that was fun.
I suggested he should ask for a spot to go on stage and try some comedy, but he politely declined and they both wished me a good evening and good luck with my future plans and took off.
I was kind of curious to know why his friend with the dog did time in jail, but I didn't get to ask that. He did remind me a bit of the type of inmates you see in reality shows about jails in america on the National Geographic channel.
30/1/09
OK, I wanted to write something earlier but just didn't have time, or rather was tool lazy to let my creative bloging juices flow into the keyboard.
It's Friday evening, didn't go to an open mic tonight, got really late with all this 'day to day running around, everybody knows this is nowhere' as Neil Young rightly put it.
Meaning - woke up again at mid day, dazed with some remains of a dream about my past. This is a metaphizycal reaction to Geographical distance, or just cheap and meaningless reminiscence about my 'Youth I pray to keep' as Chris Cornell rightly out it. That's just too much of a load to figure out for you readers, maybe I'll just write about subway rodents again?
Talk about Subway experiences, on late Tuesday (or was it Monday? or Wednesday? who gives a toss, it all seems the same to me since I got here) I took the 1 train uptown back to where I stay, and sat close to the door. This large woman walked in (her race is not important, but she wasn't white) and while i was hovering over some story about shootings in Brooklyn on the new york post that i found laying around, she asked me to move so she could sit down. I was about to move when the next thing I know i hear this thud and turn my head just to see she's laying on the floor of the coach. So like any good and considerate samaritain I rushed over and was trying to help her to get back on her feet. The other two people who were sitting oposite didn't seem to care that much, they were asleep. So I grab her by the one hand, and she goes - 'this arm is fractured, try the other arm' so I do, but the only problem is she is too heavy for me to hold her all the way up and with a moving train underneath, the laws of phyzics were not on my side, or hers for that matter. Finally I made eye contact with the other fellow who just opened his eyes and she asked him for help. So he naturally came over to grab her from the other hand, the one with the fracture. So she starts telling him not to, so he reaches for her coat and drags her by it and both of us almost fall backwards trying to pull her up (I kept thinking how a crane could have come handy at this moment, why is there never one around when you need it?)
Finally and after starining a few muscles, we get her back up on her feet. That was my work out for the week, who needs to pay money to work out in a Jym when you can help large women of the floor of a train at 2 o'clock in the morning?
Historical fact of the week: The name Brooklyn comes from Dutch and means 'Broken Land'.
Penny's is an open mic night that happens evety Wednesday at a local underground theatre on St. Mark's place on the east village. It is a home to poets, spoken word, musicians and the odd comedians. It's got regular performers who come to perform a 7 minte piece each week.
This Wednesday just gone was my 2nd time there, I realy enjoy this place, it's got an amazing atmosphere and the girl who host it, Penny is really sweet and supportive.
The performers are randomelly picked out from a bucket, previous to that everyone writes their names on small notes which go inside the bucket and Penny then pulls them out and once your name is read, you sign up on a list which becomes the running order of the night. There are 35 to 40 perfomers at each night whic means you can be either number 1 or 35/37..40.
The beuaty of all this is that most of the people stay till the end which is at 2 am in the morning.
I have seen the most eccentric perfomers along with the bizzare and the funny.
I go down pretty well there, I had the late slot the other night but it gave me enough energy to push the envelope a bit further than usual. The people who were there really enjoyed it and it gave me a dose of encouragment and I proved to myself that I don't have to hide behind my fears of speaking my mind and be hilarious at the same time, something which I always inspire to be on stage.
I know I can find my voice, I'm on the good track, finally.
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