Tiny rooms. weird lighting and the everlasting wait. There really isn't much to distinguish stand up from any other artform in terms of the build up to the act, but there's a surreal charm to the whole package. Stand-up, for me, had an immediate connection, a sense of purity like Colombian cocaine (read:coffee), and it all 'clicked' (a phrase I relate more to ignition that to art).
My introduction to stand-up was through a host of panel shows, DVD's and skits, the classic way. However, there was something different about my reaction to stand-up as opposed to other things I've tried like music, poetry, etc. With either of those, it was always a compelling need to reach some benchmark, or play a particular piece. There was never an innate connection, that one extra step where true happiness met a pot of gold with a talking monkey. But with stand-up it seemed like that'll all change. Largely, because it demands the least amount of paraphernalia, and im lazy to the bone. I quite liked the harmonica and thought of giving it a try, but couldn't be arsed to buy and/or learn. With comedy I just decided to think up some jokes, but them in an order decided by the cosmic justice of 'eenie meenie and miscellaneous other names that rhyme' and voila, there was my cauldron of embarassment, waiting to be showcased.
So it all began (like last week or something, this is just poor story telling) at a nice little pub in central london. The city boasts of phenomenal open mic nights, where first-timers are given a free shot to do whatever, whenever (well, within the five minutes). Being the second to last act didnt help, with a plethora of material to listen to, while running that one horrible pile of dust masquerading as a joke in your head.
Mustering the courage to not just hiss at myself for the length of the set, I somehow pieced the one-liners with the longer build ups and ran in a few circles for a bit. The audience reception was fantastic, which essentially was the impetus to pick it up in the first place. Ah! the thrill of making people laugh. If only I could do that through this post.
My introduction to stand-up was through a host of panel shows, DVD's and skits, the classic way. However, there was something different about my reaction to stand-up as opposed to other things I've tried like music, poetry, etc. With either of those, it was always a compelling need to reach some benchmark, or play a particular piece. There was never an innate connection, that one extra step where true happiness met a pot of gold with a talking monkey. But with stand-up it seemed like that'll all change. Largely, because it demands the least amount of paraphernalia, and im lazy to the bone. I quite liked the harmonica and thought of giving it a try, but couldn't be arsed to buy and/or learn. With comedy I just decided to think up some jokes, but them in an order decided by the cosmic justice of 'eenie meenie and miscellaneous other names that rhyme' and voila, there was my cauldron of embarassment, waiting to be showcased.
So it all began (like last week or something, this is just poor story telling) at a nice little pub in central london. The city boasts of phenomenal open mic nights, where first-timers are given a free shot to do whatever, whenever (well, within the five minutes). Being the second to last act didnt help, with a plethora of material to listen to, while running that one horrible pile of dust masquerading as a joke in your head.
Mustering the courage to not just hiss at myself for the length of the set, I somehow pieced the one-liners with the longer build ups and ran in a few circles for a bit. The audience reception was fantastic, which essentially was the impetus to pick it up in the first place. Ah! the thrill of making people laugh. If only I could do that through this post.
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