I'm sitting at a busy little Café on the corner of Bathurst and King Street. I've come here every day since I've been here. They have free wireless Internet, and the coffee is good. One of the youngsters in the stand up scene works here, and he treats us well.
Damn it's cold here today. It's been blustery all day. Brett and I met up with the gang from Yuks and wandered about like typical tourists. It was fun. I managed to find Erin a neat little gift that I think she'll really like. It was a good day.
I have a spot tonight at the super club. I feel good. The show on Tuesday was a bit wobbly, (mostly because of nerves… but it still went well enough…) and I plan to redeem myself a little. Time to exude the confidence that I have always prided myself for.
Last night was kinda strange… The Underground was full of Toronto friends and Calgary friends. None of them knew each other, the only commonality was that we are all involved in this retarded show business thingy. I finally met Stacey, the person responsible for booking out here. I told her I was a rock star. I'm not sure she believed me, but all the Calgary people backed me to the hilt. (God bless Denise and Chris…) It's nice to know that I have a few good cut men (persons…) in my corner before the bell rings for the next round. My ego has gotten a good boost, but the damage to my id may be irreversible. I think I now actually believe I'm a rock star. Danger Will Robinson… DANGER… Hopefully I will recover from this nonsense soon…
The highlight of my night was making Joanna Downey (the mother of Stand up comedy in Canada…) laugh so hard she shot red wine out her nose. That was hilarious. She looked like her head might explode. At first, I wasn't sure she would survive this trauma, but the patient managed to make a full recovery.
Tomorrow night we are going to bring the whole rock star thing to the stage. Poor Mississauga, they won't know what hit them. This is going to be fun. I can hear the calliope warming up in the background, and the smell of popcorn is wafting around me. Now If only I could find an elephant, and preferably a pink one.
I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt I was a Viking commanding a long boat as we sailed through the mist. While I've always liked the whole “horns on the helmet” as a fashion statement, the logic behind the whole thing was completely lost to me. What in my subconscious decided to spin that yarn? Perhaps there will be another era for the Viking. Maybe it was a premonition of things to come. Come to think of it, I have a strange yearning for clothes made from sheepskins. Possibly it just means I'm about to get press ganged into something, and most likely it will be foolhardy. I heard there was an opening for a job as first mate on a fine vessel called the S.S. Minnow… I wonder if they offer benefits?
It seems that while I was content in drawing the fool card from the deck in deciding to come here, I've managed to convert it to a full house. There's nothing quite like pure dumb luck and force of will to propel you forward.
All I have left to say tonight is this:
“Row you Bastards, Row…”
End of Transmission
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