The
Melbourne Fringe starts tomorrow, and I finished writing my show
yesterday. I'm doing two shows – well three actually, but two have
only two dates each, and they're going to be the same thing.
The first is Line Up Comedy at the Portland Hotel, a fifty-minute group show with Dick Wakefield, Brett Blake, Megan McKay and Geoff Setty that will see us doing ten minutes each, every night, with a guest each night (only four of us will be on each show). Because I'm going to the Gold Coast from the 30th of September to the 5th of October for a paid gig (gig? I'm standing in front of a tent talking to people for a week for a thousand bucks) though, I'm going to miss five of the eleven shows, when originally we were only supposed to miss two each. That's kind of annoying. Still looking forward to doing those six ten-minute spots, I'm pretty confident with my material right now. Tonight I'm doing a ten minute preview at Voltaire, which I intend to use trialling some new stuff I've written, while opening and closing with the jokes I'll be opening and closing with during Fringe. So that's all looking fine.
The other show I'm doing is '36 Hours', the show I've been writing since the end of MICF this year, and, barring misfortune, will be taking to the Station 59 Free Comedy Fistival in January, Adelaide Fringe in February, MICF in April, and Edinburgh in August next year. This time around, I'm only doing it in a half-hour incarnation, the first of which is tomorrow, and I'm really looking forward to finally putting the entire narrative on stage from beginning to end. I've had this thing in my head for the past five months, only being able to trial certain parts of it five to seven minutes at a time, so playing it all out is going to do wonders for the form, structure, and hopefully, the jokes. I only finished writing this thing yesterday, so I'm not really expecting fireworks... or any kind of works to be honest. The writing has been a huge task, and I'm glad that now, as the Fringe season is about to commence, I have finally finished the first draft.
The next three weeks is going to be fucking insanity, I have nineteen (NINETEEN!!) shows between now and the 27th of September, that's nineteen in fourteen days, including one night of three shows. It just occurred to me literally five minutes ago that I haven't made plans to see any shows myself, which I should probably do to get out of my narcissistic little bubble for a second, so I think tonight I might have to scoop up a Fringe Guide and make some plans to that effect. Also I just realized I haven't got my Fringe Pass yet. Fuck. COME ON! I guess I haven't been thinking that much about the festival in the lead-up, too busy writing my show and doing spots and writing new material and performing and worrying about jobs and places to live and food and money and my room and drinking and clothes and writing these blogs and why don't I eat more seafood?
About to go out flyering for the Situation Comedy Festival, which I'm lumping in as part of the Fringe, even though I know Alan would kill me if he ever knew. But he doesn't, and he won't, so there. Take that Alan. Why don't you go and rape somebody.
Peace, Taco.
The first is Line Up Comedy at the Portland Hotel, a fifty-minute group show with Dick Wakefield, Brett Blake, Megan McKay and Geoff Setty that will see us doing ten minutes each, every night, with a guest each night (only four of us will be on each show). Because I'm going to the Gold Coast from the 30th of September to the 5th of October for a paid gig (gig? I'm standing in front of a tent talking to people for a week for a thousand bucks) though, I'm going to miss five of the eleven shows, when originally we were only supposed to miss two each. That's kind of annoying. Still looking forward to doing those six ten-minute spots, I'm pretty confident with my material right now. Tonight I'm doing a ten minute preview at Voltaire, which I intend to use trialling some new stuff I've written, while opening and closing with the jokes I'll be opening and closing with during Fringe. So that's all looking fine.
The other show I'm doing is '36 Hours', the show I've been writing since the end of MICF this year, and, barring misfortune, will be taking to the Station 59 Free Comedy Fistival in January, Adelaide Fringe in February, MICF in April, and Edinburgh in August next year. This time around, I'm only doing it in a half-hour incarnation, the first of which is tomorrow, and I'm really looking forward to finally putting the entire narrative on stage from beginning to end. I've had this thing in my head for the past five months, only being able to trial certain parts of it five to seven minutes at a time, so playing it all out is going to do wonders for the form, structure, and hopefully, the jokes. I only finished writing this thing yesterday, so I'm not really expecting fireworks... or any kind of works to be honest. The writing has been a huge task, and I'm glad that now, as the Fringe season is about to commence, I have finally finished the first draft.
The next three weeks is going to be fucking insanity, I have nineteen (NINETEEN!!) shows between now and the 27th of September, that's nineteen in fourteen days, including one night of three shows. It just occurred to me literally five minutes ago that I haven't made plans to see any shows myself, which I should probably do to get out of my narcissistic little bubble for a second, so I think tonight I might have to scoop up a Fringe Guide and make some plans to that effect. Also I just realized I haven't got my Fringe Pass yet. Fuck. COME ON! I guess I haven't been thinking that much about the festival in the lead-up, too busy writing my show and doing spots and writing new material and performing and worrying about jobs and places to live and food and money and my room and drinking and clothes and writing these blogs and why don't I eat more seafood?
About to go out flyering for the Situation Comedy Festival, which I'm lumping in as part of the Fringe, even though I know Alan would kill me if he ever knew. But he doesn't, and he won't, so there. Take that Alan. Why don't you go and rape somebody.
Peace, Taco.
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