So I did the 2 previews of my new show, Laughtershock, this weekend past. At the Marsh in San Francisco. The shows went well, and of course, the audience was ideal: A room full (ish) of theatre goers who are also comedy savvy. So they liked the theatricality of my pauses, which were, overall, intentional; and they gobbled up the dick jokes. I’m not sure if the show, which I ‘chopped down’ to 90 minutes plus, will work in London, just because Brits can be less forgiving, especially toward American comics, but at least I have confidence in sunshine. I have confidence in rain. And I have confidence in my little stories, which, if told truthfully, can get the kind of laughter i never get during my stand up sets. Which is to say, laughter.
I was too rushed to really flesh out some of the people of whom I spoke, and a friend pointed out that I relied to heavily on easy jokes about dwarfs and cripples. I do actually have personal experience with both, and this is my chance to personalize my material about them even more. The dwarf hooker near my flat in London needs more time in the show; and I think I have to find a proper (read: FUNNY) ending. It’s all very West Side Story right now – the middle part is too long, some of the characters are too stereotypical, and there’s no big finish. Hopefully I’ll trust myself enough to make the stories about my affairs and my experiences being censored more intimate, but I have to constantly remember, if it’s not funny, don’t fucking bother. Londoners will just get up and leave if they’re bored, and that would really bother me, to the point of self-mutilation, as if living most of the year in London isn’t self-harming enough. Kidding. I just love the grey. Gray? Schmutz.
xx