“Comedy with content”, one supportive friend said; “it’s too intelligent”, said a useful critic. “Gorgeous legs you’ve got”, said a member of the audience, without irony. I need to improve my writing, and so I will devote time to that; and also I want to see some quality comics.
Tiz, the best of the evening, has his own stage persona very far from his own: the loser gay man who has not had a relationship since The Nolan Sisters were in the charts. He counselled me against using my own life quite so closely: it can be too near the knuckle. I see the point. He also advises, stand still and talk, so that the movement when it comes has power. In too much movement, energy dissipates. And keep practising.
I was not too keen on the joke about the turd in the loo, which would not flush away, or the joke about rape.
Sunday was a different sort of performance. We have been rehearsing a performance created by improvisation, based on King Lear, for nine evenings and one weekend, and performed it on Sunday. Each of the nine of us shared the roles. With a loving, supportive, invited audience, I could reveal myself on stage. Jane emailed to a larger group,
Still completely blown over by the staggering wondrousness of King Lear
That is what I want. Naked and unashamed. Today I remembered a memory I have not considered for years and turned it from a source of shame and symbol of my weakness into a source of celebration of my courage and strength of character.