Virgin Virgin

I had a lovely Asian cab driver (with a sense of humour) drive me to the air port this time. He laughed at my joke about my flying Virgin being the last straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't really funny, all those people loosing their jobs. He said that Qantas probably made their mind to sack all those people ages ago, so I felt better. Actually I must have been feeling pretty good to start with because when the check in woman did the big put down I thought she was being nice. What is it about people like that? (When I was a ticket seller was I that much of a bitch?) She said "where are you going?" and I thought she said "how are you going?" I must have been expecting everything to be going my way.

Down to earth at the Melbourne Comedy Festival

Day one. Well I'm here at last. Sure I've already alienated the ticket sellers at Ticketmaster. Who knew double booking could cause so much fuss. The whole day I've been convinced that everything was going my way. Sometimes you get it wrong. I've seen a terrific show by the Delusionists with a great story. The end of the world has come but sex, love, laughs and horticulture still go on. I loved it. And I love this Apple computer you can do a lot of cute things. Like this photo thing down at the bottom of the computer screen. It's a good thing this is a public place or I'd have photographed my breasts (and that wouldn't be pretty, trust me).

What to read on the plane

Let's face it you never read anything on the plane. Your mind just won't do it. Too much to grab your attention. The book shops at the airport tempt you with all sorts of literary horrors that try to get you in with stories of sex and self improvement. I think you gain your own enlightenment along the way. My regime of ruthless under packing this time sees me packing only one book. No not the Bible but very close. It's Anthony Trollop's The Barchester Chronicles, quite a laugh (in its own way), from the era of the horse and cart.

Air ports in holding pattern

I get a dull feeling waiting around at the airport. Kind of suppressed histeria. Anecdotes? Where do I start? There was the one I've told a lot of times (heavily imbellished) about the security guard at Melbourne airport. She said "you look nervous" as she scanned my bag for drugs. I had left my bag with the consierge at the hotel and he was a bit dodgy. There could have been anything in there. The good story was running into James O'loglin on the way home from Melbourne, one time. He thought I was going to button hole him and took a pair of earphones, just in case. I got a seat miles away from him on the plane. The lady I sat next to had never heard of him.

Packing up blues

The big mistake that people always make when they go away on holiday is they over pack. I was walking behind these travellers at Central, the other day. Just because you can pull two large wheel on suitcases while carrying a back pack, doesn't mean you should. For God's sake control yourself!!! Top this with the almost certain fact that you will want to buy stuff when you are in Melbourne and you over pack at your peril. It can be a nightmare. I remember dragging my swollen suitcase and back pack across Los Angeles air port; twice. It isn't a memory I relish. This is my relative success this time. I don't know why I'm including this photo; maybe its because I want to show you my underpants.

My Ritualistic Friend

In my copy of his book Naked David Sedaris has written "To Sue, my ritualistic friend". But he doesn't know the half of it. Sure, I don't tap objects or lick them with my tongue but I have been considering photographing all the "problem areas" in my house prior to leaving on my comedy festival vacation. When I go out of the house, even for a short time, I'm driven into some sort of panic that I will fail to notice not having turned off some important electrical appliance. Mr Sedaris tells a story of how his sister writes lists for him of which appliances he has to turn off whenever he's alone in her house. I think this is where the problem starts. For every ritualistic person there is a person near to them who had no faith. David buddy, we both have to forgive them (and ourselves) and move on.

It takes a lot of work

I watched this video of Jim Carey doing stand up back in 1991. There was a lot of dancing and singing and Jim grimacing fit to beat the band. He's a guy who believes in really working hard. The clever thing is he makes it look ridiculously easy. Every word, every facial gesture simply screams funny. It really makes me feel as jealous as hell. I look at my laboured scribblings and think back to my five minutes and think where does Jim get all his energy from? Don't get me wrong I love doing stand-up. It's the most fun you can have; standing up (with your clothes on). But every time you go out there it's a lot of work. Writing, learning, thinking about what you're going to say. The only thing that is easy is that five minutes with the mike. And who the hell can afford dancing letters?