I've gotta be super-quick: I'm just ducking in straight after a very lovely radio interview with Huon FM (yes, we got it all sorted out). We chatted comedy and I sang a bit of my "Bub's in the Cradle" song - afterwards we even had a caller ring in to say 'good one' and that he's coming tonight!
Last night, made the most of a pretty average crowd at the Casino Sports Bar in Hobart. It was actually really fun - the fact the noisy bar was full of absolutely no comedy fans whatsoever just took the pressure off and I just resolved to have a good time, bantering with the crowd and saying hello to the array of people who used the front of stage as a walkway. (I believe I actually called after a very elderly woman who walked past 'If you want, I'll sign a nipple.') Oh yeah. I'm all class.
I car-pooled with Huonville local Kevin Kopfstein, who it turns out is quite a fascinating lad. He's Scottish, has performed for years, done both the Edinburgh and Melbourne Comedy Festivals, ran a successful room called "Laughing Gas" in Adelaide for several years, has written a sitcom funded by South Australian Film Commission...and he's hilarious.
To top it off he'll even be MCing the Franklin gig tonight. This, combined with a plethora of posters, the radio interview and a nicely sized (though pretty much copy-and-pasted-off-my-press-release) article in Tassie's major newspaper The Mercury...I'm feeling really positive about tonight!
My last gig of the tour.
A combo of excitement and sadness.
I think I'll just shed a happy tear or two.
Am stressing a bit as I still haven't sorted babysitting for tonight, so I may end up just taking the kids with me. Ella would love it, Caleb would be insane, but hey...I do love hecklers.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Those Tassie nights...
Yes I'm totally addicted to blogging. Plainly. Here I am post-first-Tassie-gig sitting on a crappy internet station inside a hotel lobby (which I spotted directly across the road from the gig venue - so there you go, I didn't actively seek it out or anything...I'm not THAT desperate)
Not desperate, but broke. So again, a Readers' Digest version of today:
- getting up miles too early to go to the airport (I actually had to wake my kids up which has never ever happened)
- avoiding stares and snarles from snobby yuppies and airline staff, looking like the bogan single mother from hell trying to stop Caleb from licking the silver poles in the queue while pushing my bogany luggage.
- keeping a cool exterior in the midst of internal stress at Caleb throwing a last-minute tanty during the flight. Damn when that kid wants juice, he really wants it.
- doing a poster-run throughout Huonville and Franklin en route to my cousin's house and being delighted to see that some kind soul had already posted some up
- welcoming my clan into my cousin's house by discovering that Caleb had commenced 'Destroying a Bathroom 101'. I'll spare you the gore, but suffice to say Caleb + bin full of sanitary items + toilet = unmentionable. I'll be amazed if I don't spend the rest of my life dry-retching.
- calling up the local radio stations to see if they're interested in doing an interview about the Franklin gig on Friday and being surprised by them expressing reservation because it's not for a charity. I thought they'd jump at the chance to interview someone about an event (there is hardly ever ANYTHING happening entertainment-wise in the region), bringing comedy to the people and all that, but they were a bit 'funny'. It still may happen...I'm hoping that my plea of 'anybody who tries to make a living in comedy is pretty much a charity case anyway' might help. But I was just a bit taken aback at the response. I guess they're just cash-strapped themselves and we discussed us making a donation to the station, which is fair enough. Anyway, hopefully it will all work out and we'll get a good crowd.
- getting a lovely e-mail from fellow comic and Glasshouse writer Dave Bloustien with reassuring empathy for my current career dilemmas
- introducing my kids to the unmistakable and memory-invoking scent of rural Tassie. Watching them in their element, Ella feeding the goat, Caleb wrestling the cat. Me contemplating, contemplating and contemplating some more.
- driving up for my gig, rehearsing my 25 minute set in the car, hoping like heck I will remember it.
- arriving at the venue, seeing that it is full of middle-aged to elderly people. Feeling my stomach sink. Going to the bar, ordering a beer and re-writing my entire set. I figure the one I've got is not going to work with this crowd anyway, I might as well go for gold in trying to come up with some new stuff and fail gloriously.
- returning at gig time to find the audience has suddenly youthened-up by about half a century. WICKED! Relaxing and deciding to just have fun, which I do. I even bring out the old impro 'Ultimate Audience Member' song and with the fabulous prey of an eighteen year old dole bludger living with his parents and aspiring to make porn (his words, not mine), it goes off.
Much more could I write (when the hell did I turn into Yoda?) but my credit's about to run out. In short, have arrived safely, met some lovely folk and had quite a nice gig. Life's smelling good. Love to you all!
Not desperate, but broke. So again, a Readers' Digest version of today:
- getting up miles too early to go to the airport (I actually had to wake my kids up which has never ever happened)
- avoiding stares and snarles from snobby yuppies and airline staff, looking like the bogan single mother from hell trying to stop Caleb from licking the silver poles in the queue while pushing my bogany luggage.
- keeping a cool exterior in the midst of internal stress at Caleb throwing a last-minute tanty during the flight. Damn when that kid wants juice, he really wants it.
- doing a poster-run throughout Huonville and Franklin en route to my cousin's house and being delighted to see that some kind soul had already posted some up
- welcoming my clan into my cousin's house by discovering that Caleb had commenced 'Destroying a Bathroom 101'. I'll spare you the gore, but suffice to say Caleb + bin full of sanitary items + toilet = unmentionable. I'll be amazed if I don't spend the rest of my life dry-retching.
- calling up the local radio stations to see if they're interested in doing an interview about the Franklin gig on Friday and being surprised by them expressing reservation because it's not for a charity. I thought they'd jump at the chance to interview someone about an event (there is hardly ever ANYTHING happening entertainment-wise in the region), bringing comedy to the people and all that, but they were a bit 'funny'. It still may happen...I'm hoping that my plea of 'anybody who tries to make a living in comedy is pretty much a charity case anyway' might help. But I was just a bit taken aback at the response. I guess they're just cash-strapped themselves and we discussed us making a donation to the station, which is fair enough. Anyway, hopefully it will all work out and we'll get a good crowd.
- getting a lovely e-mail from fellow comic and Glasshouse writer Dave Bloustien with reassuring empathy for my current career dilemmas
- introducing my kids to the unmistakable and memory-invoking scent of rural Tassie. Watching them in their element, Ella feeding the goat, Caleb wrestling the cat. Me contemplating, contemplating and contemplating some more.
- driving up for my gig, rehearsing my 25 minute set in the car, hoping like heck I will remember it.
- arriving at the venue, seeing that it is full of middle-aged to elderly people. Feeling my stomach sink. Going to the bar, ordering a beer and re-writing my entire set. I figure the one I've got is not going to work with this crowd anyway, I might as well go for gold in trying to come up with some new stuff and fail gloriously.
- returning at gig time to find the audience has suddenly youthened-up by about half a century. WICKED! Relaxing and deciding to just have fun, which I do. I even bring out the old impro 'Ultimate Audience Member' song and with the fabulous prey of an eighteen year old dole bludger living with his parents and aspiring to make porn (his words, not mine), it goes off.
Much more could I write (when the hell did I turn into Yoda?) but my credit's about to run out. In short, have arrived safely, met some lovely folk and had quite a nice gig. Life's smelling good. Love to you all!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Don't read this entry if you're lactose intolerant
No seriously, read no further. For this entry is full of cheese. But then, if you read me profile then you've already been warned and deserve every hive that you get.
Ladies and gentlemen...
"My last night in Melbourne"
by Jenny Wynter.
I supported NSW comic Delores in her solo show "Happiness is a Warm Ukelele" in the city. The audience are ring-ins from the bar downstairs and are pretty tough to please but in retrospect, I can see the funny side. Halfway through my 'pensioner' bit (where I act out a meddlesome pensioner giving me parenting advice in public - a true story) it struck me that the largest table of people in the very sparcely attended room actually probably fall into that category. They chuckled a little, but at the end when I finished off with the "One Night in Labour" song and launched into the baby-cam...dead silence. I almost laughed as I was performing the 'baby coming out' bit, thinking "I cannot believe I'm here in front of these geriatric conservative yuppies, while my arms are busy being a vagina."
Did they laugh? Nup. Did I care? Nup. Because I'm now Little Miss Too-Cool-For-Comedy. Not really, but doesn't it have a nice ring to it?
Afterwards had a great long chat with Delores who passed on some advice Akmal Saleh gave her a while back: "Don't rush it, you'll find your crowd. And they'll find you. And then they'll come and pay to see you."
It seemed very fitting advice, given the night's audience - it didn't bug me because they really are NOT my audience at all, and realising that you don't need to be funny to absolutely everybody (and surely never could be even if you wanted to) takes the pressure off big-time. I know the best gigs I've ever had have been where the audience love me and I love them. We fit.
We continued chatting and got all excited throwing ideas around. We came up with a cool concept for a joint mummy-themed show to potentially tour in November, which Rachel has already flipped out about and is keen to produce the Melbourne leg. I know, I know, madness, absolute madness given my new resolution, but I did make it clear to Delores that I needed to have a big long heart-to-heart with hubby before I could commit to anything at all. But it feels nice to have some semi-solid kind of outcome spring from my time here.
I then took the long way walking to the car and soaked up the sights of the inner city which have become part of my general landscape over the past fortnight. There's the cafe where...there's the pub where...there's the corner where...I could almost hear my own musical soundtrack with credits rolling.
Outside the Town Hall I bumped into Nish and Alan again on their way to see a show. They were so sweet, asking how I was feeling after their pep-talk - see? Maybe comics aren't completely self-absorbed after all. I almost drooled looking at the line-up at the Umbrella Revolution tonight - Tim Minchin, Eddie Perfect, The Bedroom Philosopher, The Renegades of Folk and more. But no. I decided not to squeeze another back-breakingly inspiring but exhausting night into the tour... now THAT, my friends, is real progress.
Driving home I managed somehow to get completely and utterly lost and ended up near Lygon Street (reprise of credits music here) where I spotted an open foodstore. Desperate to get Rachel a suitably nice pressie for her unbelievable generosity (damn me for leaving it til the last day and only then realising it was a public holiday!) I went in. I found what I needed, paid for it and only then spotted a card on the counter:
Don't Quit
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
I know it might sound nauseating, but this just couldn't have spoken to me more clearly at a more appropriate time. With regards to both areas of my life currently under crisis - comedy and family - I feel like it doesn't get much clearer than that.
Lost in Lygon Street (absolutely NOWHERE near Yarraville where I was trying to get to) I entered a random food-store feeling shattered, and left with a beaming smile. As I worked my way through the city streets back towards the West Gate Bridge, I passed a very fitting sight: a massive billboard advertising Lano and Woodley's final show during the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It reads simply "Good Bye."
Goodbye Melbourne. I'll miss ya.
***
Now onto the Tassie leg of the tour: three gigs over the next three nights, and then six days of rural recovery. Aaaaah. I doubt my net access will be that good, but rest assured I'll do my best! In the mean-time, please, do try to contain yourselves. I don't want anyone getting hurt on MY behalf.
Ladies and gentlemen...
"My last night in Melbourne"
by Jenny Wynter.
I supported NSW comic Delores in her solo show "Happiness is a Warm Ukelele" in the city. The audience are ring-ins from the bar downstairs and are pretty tough to please but in retrospect, I can see the funny side. Halfway through my 'pensioner' bit (where I act out a meddlesome pensioner giving me parenting advice in public - a true story) it struck me that the largest table of people in the very sparcely attended room actually probably fall into that category. They chuckled a little, but at the end when I finished off with the "One Night in Labour" song and launched into the baby-cam...dead silence. I almost laughed as I was performing the 'baby coming out' bit, thinking "I cannot believe I'm here in front of these geriatric conservative yuppies, while my arms are busy being a vagina."
Did they laugh? Nup. Did I care? Nup. Because I'm now Little Miss Too-Cool-For-Comedy. Not really, but doesn't it have a nice ring to it?
Afterwards had a great long chat with Delores who passed on some advice Akmal Saleh gave her a while back: "Don't rush it, you'll find your crowd. And they'll find you. And then they'll come and pay to see you."
It seemed very fitting advice, given the night's audience - it didn't bug me because they really are NOT my audience at all, and realising that you don't need to be funny to absolutely everybody (and surely never could be even if you wanted to) takes the pressure off big-time. I know the best gigs I've ever had have been where the audience love me and I love them. We fit.
We continued chatting and got all excited throwing ideas around. We came up with a cool concept for a joint mummy-themed show to potentially tour in November, which Rachel has already flipped out about and is keen to produce the Melbourne leg. I know, I know, madness, absolute madness given my new resolution, but I did make it clear to Delores that I needed to have a big long heart-to-heart with hubby before I could commit to anything at all. But it feels nice to have some semi-solid kind of outcome spring from my time here.
I then took the long way walking to the car and soaked up the sights of the inner city which have become part of my general landscape over the past fortnight. There's the cafe where...there's the pub where...there's the corner where...I could almost hear my own musical soundtrack with credits rolling.
Outside the Town Hall I bumped into Nish and Alan again on their way to see a show. They were so sweet, asking how I was feeling after their pep-talk - see? Maybe comics aren't completely self-absorbed after all. I almost drooled looking at the line-up at the Umbrella Revolution tonight - Tim Minchin, Eddie Perfect, The Bedroom Philosopher, The Renegades of Folk and more. But no. I decided not to squeeze another back-breakingly inspiring but exhausting night into the tour... now THAT, my friends, is real progress.
Driving home I managed somehow to get completely and utterly lost and ended up near Lygon Street (reprise of credits music here) where I spotted an open foodstore. Desperate to get Rachel a suitably nice pressie for her unbelievable generosity (damn me for leaving it til the last day and only then realising it was a public holiday!) I went in. I found what I needed, paid for it and only then spotted a card on the counter:
Don't Quit
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
I know it might sound nauseating, but this just couldn't have spoken to me more clearly at a more appropriate time. With regards to both areas of my life currently under crisis - comedy and family - I feel like it doesn't get much clearer than that.
Lost in Lygon Street (absolutely NOWHERE near Yarraville where I was trying to get to) I entered a random food-store feeling shattered, and left with a beaming smile. As I worked my way through the city streets back towards the West Gate Bridge, I passed a very fitting sight: a massive billboard advertising Lano and Woodley's final show during the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It reads simply "Good Bye."
Goodbye Melbourne. I'll miss ya.
***
Now onto the Tassie leg of the tour: three gigs over the next three nights, and then six days of rural recovery. Aaaaah. I doubt my net access will be that good, but rest assured I'll do my best! In the mean-time, please, do try to contain yourselves. I don't want anyone getting hurt on MY behalf.
From the mouths of babes...
No, this isn't a post where I quote cute one-liners from my kids. I'll nauseate you another time. I just had to share this e-mail which Bart Freebairn (Qld's Raw Comedy Winner who'll be battling it out at the finals this Sunday) sent me.
Just cos it made me chuckle out loud and that's quite an achievement, plainly.
***
Thanks for the support jenny .
I pity the fool that is naked in this iceblock town .
You will need to have a roaring fire everywhere you go in tassie .
Kill animals and stuff them down your jocks for warmth even
Please dont take a big break from comedy either. Not now.. no . Not
when you are starting to get shiny. Come back soon ya hear and keep at it .
Do it for the kids and for jesus
Hot sauce Frank signing out
b
***
Bart, you go get em tiger.
Just cos it made me chuckle out loud and that's quite an achievement, plainly.
***
Thanks for the support jenny .
I pity the fool that is naked in this iceblock town .
You will need to have a roaring fire everywhere you go in tassie .
Kill animals and stuff them down your jocks for warmth even
Please dont take a big break from comedy either. Not now.. no . Not
when you are starting to get shiny. Come back soon ya hear and keep at it .
Do it for the kids and for jesus
Hot sauce Frank signing out
b
***
Bart, you go get em tiger.
I ♥ Hecklers
Best gig ever. Well, probably not EVER, but it kinda feels that way. I've gotta quit comedy more often...it really puts me in the perfect frame of 'not-caring' mind, meaning I, well...don't care. And perform much better for it.
For the first time this tour...there were hecklers. Damn I've missed that. Those of you who've read my blog for a while might remember late last year feeling stressed about my fan-club of drunken construction workers, only to later realise that dealing with them made any other audience seem like a piece of cherry puff pastry.
Well, tonight that training paid off, people. It was only one group of drunken dudes down the back of an overpacked room - normally I'd ignore this for a little while but they were rowdy enough that I suspected the audience would be on my side if I went for them (and they were, bless 'em.) Unfortunately said hecklers seemed to love my dealings with them so much that they egged me on throughout, but it was all good. Plus I got to throw in some new material I've been writing about hecklers...it's got even further to go but tonight was a good taste-test.
The bottom line is that I LOVED being on-stage tonight, which was a lovely lovely surprise. Rest assured (hubby) that comedy and I are still heading for a break...we're just having our last little rendezvous now that the impending separation has brought back the spark.
The funny thing about tonight was that the chick organising the gig was feeling incredibly down in the dumps after an absolutely SCATHING review of her show in The Age and was considering quitting comedy. I found myself giving her a pep-talk, everything from "don't worry, I know you feel terrible now and you have every right to, but give it a couple of days to settle down and you'll feel better" to "it's so much easier to write a terrible review; I'll bet the reviewer just got off on trying to be witty." (I can say this cos I've been guilty of the same!)
But the irony of this did hit me square in the face, don't you worry. If the best cure for helping yourself is to help someone else, then consider myself helped. I may just make a wristband: "What Would Jenny Do?"
*reading last sentence* That doesn't even resemble sense. Note to self: go to bed.
For the first time this tour...there were hecklers. Damn I've missed that. Those of you who've read my blog for a while might remember late last year feeling stressed about my fan-club of drunken construction workers, only to later realise that dealing with them made any other audience seem like a piece of cherry puff pastry.
Well, tonight that training paid off, people. It was only one group of drunken dudes down the back of an overpacked room - normally I'd ignore this for a little while but they were rowdy enough that I suspected the audience would be on my side if I went for them (and they were, bless 'em.) Unfortunately said hecklers seemed to love my dealings with them so much that they egged me on throughout, but it was all good. Plus I got to throw in some new material I've been writing about hecklers...it's got even further to go but tonight was a good taste-test.
The bottom line is that I LOVED being on-stage tonight, which was a lovely lovely surprise. Rest assured (hubby) that comedy and I are still heading for a break...we're just having our last little rendezvous now that the impending separation has brought back the spark.
The funny thing about tonight was that the chick organising the gig was feeling incredibly down in the dumps after an absolutely SCATHING review of her show in The Age and was considering quitting comedy. I found myself giving her a pep-talk, everything from "don't worry, I know you feel terrible now and you have every right to, but give it a couple of days to settle down and you'll feel better" to "it's so much easier to write a terrible review; I'll bet the reviewer just got off on trying to be witty." (I can say this cos I've been guilty of the same!)
But the irony of this did hit me square in the face, don't you worry. If the best cure for helping yourself is to help someone else, then consider myself helped. I may just make a wristband: "What Would Jenny Do?"
*reading last sentence* That doesn't even resemble sense. Note to self: go to bed.
Monday, April 24, 2006
A new week
"Mummy, I like your bellybutton."
"What?"
"I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON!!!!"
Life is looking so much better already.
And before I go on, no, I was not showing off my bellybutton at the time of this conversation - I don't know if you've heard but the Britney style midriff is kinda incompatible with post-natal software - rest assured, my daughter's just weird.
A summary of the last couple of days:
Jeez Louise Funny Women's Conference
An inspiring and highly informational day-long workshop (yes I have a background in writing for PR - so kill me) with some of the best female comics in the country, plus a few guys too. I learned so much my head is practically spinning and I'm puking green slime, but highlights included:
- hearing Rachel Berger go through her lists and lists of comedy myths and tips.
- chatting briefly with Jo from "ShowJo" playing at the fest about improv and comedy. I'd seen her in a show a few years ago which was just fabulous, in fact it was the first impro show I ever saw and was by complete coincidence as I'd been off to see Ross Noble but of course, he'd sold out so opted for the little unknown instead. Not that you really needed to know that, but I'm a woman of detail. In case you hadn't noticed.
- workshopping a mummy character with local legend Linda Haggar and being struck by a bolt of inspiration as to exactly what I want to put into the full-length show that's been in my head for ages.
- taking a morning tea break in the back alley with Fiona O'Loughlin, who responded to my desperate request for relationship advice with awesome honesty and generosity.
- Having Greg Fleet lend me his pen.
Saturday night:
I finally got to see my good mate and last year's Australian Raw Champion Josh Thomas perform in The Comedy Zone with three other hot-and-up-coming comics. I'm such a Josh fan - he's one comic I never get sick of seeing even though I've seen his stuff a zillion times - and he was on fire! The others were good too, especially Andrea from Perth who really inspired me with her commitment to her characters, given that I'd been all fired up from the character workshop at the conference. Afterwards I headed out to Trades Hall at Carlton to watch Eddie Perfect but it was pretty much just music, not his comic stuff which I so love. Still, great vibe.
Sunday:
My final sleep-in for a while (as Tim has now gone home to Brissie :-( ) followed by a leisurely avo with the kiddlies. Put some match-sticks in my eyes to make it to the Hot Comics' Showcase at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow in the City, where I felt the most relaxed I've felt on-stage this entire tour, no doubt due in part to my trial separation state of mind. Finally, I was just thinking 'I don't care who sees me, I'm just doing my thing and trying to have fun.' Damn, that stuff really lowers the stakes! I recognised the MC at the start but it took me a little while to place it - he played the main part in one of the old Tropfest films "The Referees". He was great, very casual kinda delivery and as an MC just kept the night moving along without making it all about him. I thought that was very cool indeed.
Best of all though, was catching up with two mates I haven't seen in years, Lachlan and Tom - we were all in a play together several years ago when I did a 6-month stint living in Melbourne, and then I shot a short film with them. I LOVE those guys and was so chuffed they came; yet another reason to seriously think about moving back down here at the end of the year, as they're both fully keen to work on some stuff together. Hmmmm...
Headlining the night was an American comic called Adam Richards (I think!) who, although not the best comic I've seen this fest, made me laugh the hardest. Go figure. His delivery, audience 'saves' and character act-outs were just awesome, and it really opened my mind to what you can do in this form. I think that's what I've found most useful out of anything this trip - just being exposed to so many different styles of comedy. I guess in Brissie it is quite a small industry, I've seen most of the people doing the rounds and you can just get stuck in a way of thinking about what comedy is.
Afterwards, hung out with Alan Rutledge and Nish (fellow comics from Brisvegas) and (in typical geeky form) just chatted comedy for a while. They both listened to how I was feeling disillusioned and wanting a break, and just gave me such a fabulous (and hilarious) pep-talk that I drove away into the night feeling like I'd swallowed golden syrup. Not so much that I'd feel sick, mind you, just enough to leave a sweet trickle on the tongue. Or something.
So the plan is to sleep when the kids do today, then head out to Federation Square this avo to hook up with my dear friend Lisa, then back home, do the dinner and bath thing, put the kids to bed and head out to my late gig tonight. Rachel is babysitting. See how responsible I am, actually leaving my kids in proper care and all? Man I rock.
"What?"
"I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON I LIKE YOUR BELLYBUTTON!!!!"
Life is looking so much better already.
And before I go on, no, I was not showing off my bellybutton at the time of this conversation - I don't know if you've heard but the Britney style midriff is kinda incompatible with post-natal software - rest assured, my daughter's just weird.
A summary of the last couple of days:
Jeez Louise Funny Women's Conference
An inspiring and highly informational day-long workshop (yes I have a background in writing for PR - so kill me) with some of the best female comics in the country, plus a few guys too. I learned so much my head is practically spinning and I'm puking green slime, but highlights included:
- hearing Rachel Berger go through her lists and lists of comedy myths and tips.
- chatting briefly with Jo from "ShowJo" playing at the fest about improv and comedy. I'd seen her in a show a few years ago which was just fabulous, in fact it was the first impro show I ever saw and was by complete coincidence as I'd been off to see Ross Noble but of course, he'd sold out so opted for the little unknown instead. Not that you really needed to know that, but I'm a woman of detail. In case you hadn't noticed.
- workshopping a mummy character with local legend Linda Haggar and being struck by a bolt of inspiration as to exactly what I want to put into the full-length show that's been in my head for ages.
- taking a morning tea break in the back alley with Fiona O'Loughlin, who responded to my desperate request for relationship advice with awesome honesty and generosity.
- Having Greg Fleet lend me his pen.
Saturday night:
I finally got to see my good mate and last year's Australian Raw Champion Josh Thomas perform in The Comedy Zone with three other hot-and-up-coming comics. I'm such a Josh fan - he's one comic I never get sick of seeing even though I've seen his stuff a zillion times - and he was on fire! The others were good too, especially Andrea from Perth who really inspired me with her commitment to her characters, given that I'd been all fired up from the character workshop at the conference. Afterwards I headed out to Trades Hall at Carlton to watch Eddie Perfect but it was pretty much just music, not his comic stuff which I so love. Still, great vibe.
Sunday:
My final sleep-in for a while (as Tim has now gone home to Brissie :-( ) followed by a leisurely avo with the kiddlies. Put some match-sticks in my eyes to make it to the Hot Comics' Showcase at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow in the City, where I felt the most relaxed I've felt on-stage this entire tour, no doubt due in part to my trial separation state of mind. Finally, I was just thinking 'I don't care who sees me, I'm just doing my thing and trying to have fun.' Damn, that stuff really lowers the stakes! I recognised the MC at the start but it took me a little while to place it - he played the main part in one of the old Tropfest films "The Referees". He was great, very casual kinda delivery and as an MC just kept the night moving along without making it all about him. I thought that was very cool indeed.
Best of all though, was catching up with two mates I haven't seen in years, Lachlan and Tom - we were all in a play together several years ago when I did a 6-month stint living in Melbourne, and then I shot a short film with them. I LOVE those guys and was so chuffed they came; yet another reason to seriously think about moving back down here at the end of the year, as they're both fully keen to work on some stuff together. Hmmmm...
Headlining the night was an American comic called Adam Richards (I think!) who, although not the best comic I've seen this fest, made me laugh the hardest. Go figure. His delivery, audience 'saves' and character act-outs were just awesome, and it really opened my mind to what you can do in this form. I think that's what I've found most useful out of anything this trip - just being exposed to so many different styles of comedy. I guess in Brissie it is quite a small industry, I've seen most of the people doing the rounds and you can just get stuck in a way of thinking about what comedy is.
Afterwards, hung out with Alan Rutledge and Nish (fellow comics from Brisvegas) and (in typical geeky form) just chatted comedy for a while. They both listened to how I was feeling disillusioned and wanting a break, and just gave me such a fabulous (and hilarious) pep-talk that I drove away into the night feeling like I'd swallowed golden syrup. Not so much that I'd feel sick, mind you, just enough to leave a sweet trickle on the tongue. Or something.
So the plan is to sleep when the kids do today, then head out to Federation Square this avo to hook up with my dear friend Lisa, then back home, do the dinner and bath thing, put the kids to bed and head out to my late gig tonight. Rachel is babysitting. See how responsible I am, actually leaving my kids in proper care and all? Man I rock.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Failure, failure, failure
Well, I warned you at the start of these on-the-road updates that the end of this tour would either result in a career break or a nervous breakdown. It appears it may be the latter. In summary your honours:
- I am completely shattered and depleted of energy in every possible area.
- It follows that I am not being a very good parent, relying WAY too much on televised entertainment to see me through.
- I have growing concerns that my marriage will be unable to survive life as a professional stand-up (note: I had a chat with Fiona O'Loughlin yesterday at Jeez Louise Funny Women's Conference and asked her how the hell she manages to keep her marriage going in this industry. I'll keep her details private, but suffice to say it is damn damn hard.)
- While I feel inspired by the amazing comedy I've seen this fest and the array of incredible people I've gotten up close to, I also feel kinda comedied out.
- Whoever posted on my blog that 'aren't you just a comedy geek?' - that comment has weighed on my mind of late, making me go 'well, am I? Is this all that this is about?'
- My sense of self-loathing is growing, based on the incredibly navel-gazing nature of having comedy and blogging as two huge components of my daily existence.
I've been feeling all of these things throughout the week. As you know, I have been waiting with bated breath to find out whether I got a Wildcard into the Raw National Finals - and in fine Jenny tradition, made myself a little bet: "if I get into the Nationals, then I will consider that a pretty damn cool break and will continue along this trajectory. If I don't, then I will make a very conscious move to take my foot off the comedy career accelerator."
So yesterday at Jeez Louise, I saw Toby Sullivan, the Raw Comedy producer. We said hi in the morning, but he mentioned nothing of any decisions. At lunch-time I approached him.
Me: "So any word on the Raw finals?"
Him: "Yeah, we've decided." (him looking sympathetic)
Me: "And...I'm not in it?"
Him: "No. I'm sorry!" (him pretending to duck)
Me: "Oh....oh no...."
Him: "It's very tight this year. I'm sorry I can't help you. You'll have next year."
Uh, actually no - you're not sposed to earn over $500 in one year which means (if I do heed the honour system they have in place of course) I will be out of the running. I just feel so disappointed, not in the decision itself (well, yeah of course I am a bit) but in my absolute stupidity at getting my hopes up. Josh Thomas was so encouraging telling me how much Toby liked my stuff, Fedele (owner of the Sit Down Comedy Club and most comedy rooms in Brisbane) even rang me up the other day to ask if I'd heard and told me he thought I had a really good shot at it...I told him I didn't want to get too excited and was trying not to think about it, but then it's always easier said than done, isn't it?
But on the bright side...decision made.
Thus, in conclusion your honours, I've decided that comedy and I shall commence a trial separation. How bizarre that we had to go through this torrid whirlwind honeymoon of sorts to get to this point.
This is not a divorce, just a little break to see how it goes.
The only problem is I have some gigs booked already for the next few months - I'll still do them, but just not book anything new. How confusing - but then again, breaking up is hard to do. So bingo. There's the break after all.
- I am completely shattered and depleted of energy in every possible area.
- It follows that I am not being a very good parent, relying WAY too much on televised entertainment to see me through.
- I have growing concerns that my marriage will be unable to survive life as a professional stand-up (note: I had a chat with Fiona O'Loughlin yesterday at Jeez Louise Funny Women's Conference and asked her how the hell she manages to keep her marriage going in this industry. I'll keep her details private, but suffice to say it is damn damn hard.)
- While I feel inspired by the amazing comedy I've seen this fest and the array of incredible people I've gotten up close to, I also feel kinda comedied out.
- Whoever posted on my blog that 'aren't you just a comedy geek?' - that comment has weighed on my mind of late, making me go 'well, am I? Is this all that this is about?'
- My sense of self-loathing is growing, based on the incredibly navel-gazing nature of having comedy and blogging as two huge components of my daily existence.
I've been feeling all of these things throughout the week. As you know, I have been waiting with bated breath to find out whether I got a Wildcard into the Raw National Finals - and in fine Jenny tradition, made myself a little bet: "if I get into the Nationals, then I will consider that a pretty damn cool break and will continue along this trajectory. If I don't, then I will make a very conscious move to take my foot off the comedy career accelerator."
So yesterday at Jeez Louise, I saw Toby Sullivan, the Raw Comedy producer. We said hi in the morning, but he mentioned nothing of any decisions. At lunch-time I approached him.
Me: "So any word on the Raw finals?"
Him: "Yeah, we've decided." (him looking sympathetic)
Me: "And...I'm not in it?"
Him: "No. I'm sorry!" (him pretending to duck)
Me: "Oh....oh no...."
Him: "It's very tight this year. I'm sorry I can't help you. You'll have next year."
Uh, actually no - you're not sposed to earn over $500 in one year which means (if I do heed the honour system they have in place of course) I will be out of the running. I just feel so disappointed, not in the decision itself (well, yeah of course I am a bit) but in my absolute stupidity at getting my hopes up. Josh Thomas was so encouraging telling me how much Toby liked my stuff, Fedele (owner of the Sit Down Comedy Club and most comedy rooms in Brisbane) even rang me up the other day to ask if I'd heard and told me he thought I had a really good shot at it...I told him I didn't want to get too excited and was trying not to think about it, but then it's always easier said than done, isn't it?
But on the bright side...decision made.
Thus, in conclusion your honours, I've decided that comedy and I shall commence a trial separation. How bizarre that we had to go through this torrid whirlwind honeymoon of sorts to get to this point.
This is not a divorce, just a little break to see how it goes.
The only problem is I have some gigs booked already for the next few months - I'll still do them, but just not book anything new. How confusing - but then again, breaking up is hard to do. So bingo. There's the break after all.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Gags and Drags
Out of all the comedy I've seen this festival, nothing, NOTHING I tell you has made me laugh more than seeing a full decked-out drag queen (as though there's any other kind) directing flirty dance moves at my hubby. Honestly, my guts were in pain, until I stopped myself wondering if my mirth was against drag protocol (where's a "Drag Etiquette for Dummies" when you need one?) then that though struck me as funnier still so my chuckling continued til my guts burst out and splattered themselves up on the back-stage mural. Thankfully it was already abstract so nobody even noticed.
So yes, last night Tim and I had a long overdue hot date (Rachel - thank you!) and yes, it was at a drags night in St Kilda where what I thought was but a short spot turned into "introducing our head-liner for this evening..." Flattering, yes, but a little scary given no warning. I took the stage with "I have to be honest - I'm from Queensland, I've got two kids and I'm a bit of a dag, so I'm not really sure I'll be up your alley. But hell...I'll give it a bash if you will!"
This is where having one of the friendliest crowds ever comes into play. Aside from a couple of drunken stoners down the front who I just shouted out mid-song to "Shut up kids", the dudes in this bar - drag and un-drag - were so incredibly cheerful and supportive. Unfortunately I forgot to say what I really wanted to: "Wow! You guys are so friendly...this feels just like church."
Anyway, bumped into Gab - fellow comedienne from Brissie - which was a very pleasant surprise, chatted with a british dude and his girfriend - this was only his second gig and he's already got a great thing going - got some hot tips on local comedy rooms to chase up from funny-man Mister Alabama and was approached by a blonde drag-queen at the start.
Her: "Did you sing a song last week at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Yes, I thought so. That was great."
Shaking hands.
Me: "I'm Jenny."
Her: "I'm (pause)...Lulu. Tonight."
After the gig:
Lulu: "I couldn't watch your set cos I was backstage getting dressed but I heard it on the speakers back there and just wanted to tell you it went down a treat."
Bless you Lulu. Bless you.
I'm getting heaps more confident with the "One Night" song, probably due to the heaps of practice I've been getting here. As I ordered my pepping-up coke the other night, the bar-chick at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow asked if I was the one who sang that song.
"Damn you!" she said. "It's been in my head all week!" It is catchy, but not lethal, so be thankful for small blessings I say.
Today, am off to the Jeez Louise conference for women in comedy. 2 days of workshops, talks and networking with some funny ladies.
Caffeine city, here I come!
So yes, last night Tim and I had a long overdue hot date (Rachel - thank you!) and yes, it was at a drags night in St Kilda where what I thought was but a short spot turned into "introducing our head-liner for this evening..." Flattering, yes, but a little scary given no warning. I took the stage with "I have to be honest - I'm from Queensland, I've got two kids and I'm a bit of a dag, so I'm not really sure I'll be up your alley. But hell...I'll give it a bash if you will!"
This is where having one of the friendliest crowds ever comes into play. Aside from a couple of drunken stoners down the front who I just shouted out mid-song to "Shut up kids", the dudes in this bar - drag and un-drag - were so incredibly cheerful and supportive. Unfortunately I forgot to say what I really wanted to: "Wow! You guys are so friendly...this feels just like church."
Anyway, bumped into Gab - fellow comedienne from Brissie - which was a very pleasant surprise, chatted with a british dude and his girfriend - this was only his second gig and he's already got a great thing going - got some hot tips on local comedy rooms to chase up from funny-man Mister Alabama and was approached by a blonde drag-queen at the start.
Her: "Did you sing a song last week at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Yes, I thought so. That was great."
Shaking hands.
Me: "I'm Jenny."
Her: "I'm (pause)...Lulu. Tonight."
After the gig:
Lulu: "I couldn't watch your set cos I was backstage getting dressed but I heard it on the speakers back there and just wanted to tell you it went down a treat."
Bless you Lulu. Bless you.
I'm getting heaps more confident with the "One Night" song, probably due to the heaps of practice I've been getting here. As I ordered my pepping-up coke the other night, the bar-chick at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow asked if I was the one who sang that song.
"Damn you!" she said. "It's been in my head all week!" It is catchy, but not lethal, so be thankful for small blessings I say.
Today, am off to the Jeez Louise conference for women in comedy. 2 days of workshops, talks and networking with some funny ladies.
Caffeine city, here I come!
Friday, April 21, 2006
More shameless celebrity spotting
I was assured by my dear mate and fellow blogger Gemnastics www.gempires.blogspot.com that far from being self-conscious about seeming star-struck, I should just let the shameless celeb references flow. So...now that I have permission...
Top moments of the night included finally having a proper introduction to Dave Callan (who, if you've been paying attention, will remember I clinked glasses with at the Gala after-party, only to have him dragged away by Rove). I reminded Dave of this and he went "ah yes, Rove. He's a shocking clinker thief." Insert star-struck-naieve-chuckle-by-Jenny here.
Within moments of catching up with Josh Thomas again outside the festival club, having him embrace his role as the comic-spotter to end all comic-spotters. "Look," he whispered, "there go three of the funniest guys in the world." And so they did: Demetri Martin, Daniel Kitson and David O'Doherty, strolling up Swanston Street in a three-headed social group of all-round funny-ness. Bless 'em.
But shock, horror, I am not even doing you the courtesy of relaying the night's events in chronological order. Who the hell do I think I am? Quentin Tarantino?
Backtracking...the day ended with handing over two kids, exhausted from trekking around Southgate and getting rained on in the park, bringing me into evening performing for a small but friendly audience - supporting Barb Joseph in "So I married an Arab". I was excited about doing a ten minute set, but yet again this got cut back to five due to time delays. Doh! So, I decided to put the stand-up aside and just do two songs, a decision which was seemingly affirmed by watching the final comedian in the previous show, the fabulous Jackie Loeb. I'd heard about her before but never seen her in action til tonight - she pretty much performed just song after song with the tiniest bit of stand-up thrown in. What an amazing voice and such great delivery and presence; I felt completely inspired and compelled to introduce myself and tell her so. "Thanks so much!" she said. "That means a lot coming from a comedian." Gush.
But hang on, there was stuff that happened before that too. Who the hell do I think I am? Jean-Luc Godard?
Backtracking...I walk into the Elephant & Wheelbarrow at St Kilda, sit down and what do I hear but a "Is that Jenny Wynter?" I look up and it's my fellow comic buddy from Brisvegas Nish! He and another Brissie comic (not to mention reluctant Tom Cruise lookalike) Alan Rutledge have just arrived in Melbourne this avo and are just stopping in to pick up their festival passes. It is so awesome to see them, just as I was beginning to feel lonely. :-)
I watch Caroline Chilura's (the other support for the evening and as a mummy comedian is a woman after my own heart) and then head off to the city with Nish and Alan. We manage to hook up with Josh Thomas ('aha!' you say, 'we're almost up to where this damn story started then!' and right you are) and venture up to the good old Victoria Hotel and check out the comedy rooms. I don't mean the shows in them comedy rooms, I mean literally, the comedy rooms. I start to get very, very excited (at Josh's prompting) about putting a show on in one of them at next year's fest. We get handed free beers by a very friendly young lady in a closed bar upstairs (to protect the innocent I shall omit names: don't think I need to but hell, it adds intrigue) who then proceeds to disclose the names of all the comics she's met and her personal opinions of each. I don't mean opinions of their material (although that was included), I mean her PERSONAL opinions based on PERSONAL experience of their PERSONALities. Interesting. Again, to protect the innocent all shall remain nameless. If you want details, you'll have to pay for the pleasure. I accept Visa and lattes.
The four Brissie amigos then head off to the Festival Club, where I'm happy to say we all have free passes. Greg Fleet MCs (damn he makes me laugh - there, how's that for a to-the-point comedy review?) with appearances from Charlie Pickering (very inspired by the characters, especially by the way he incorporates them quite seamlessly into his set), Fiona O'Loughlin (I actually let out a very uncool squeal of delight when she was announced as I wasn't expecting it and just LOVE her: she was fabulous as always in her smiley slash black fashion) and....da da da da, da da!!! TIM MINCHIN!!! In all his musical darkness, he actually reminded me in a very funny way of my mate Sam Mitchell (Sammy, that is a massive, massive compliment) but I'm still trying to figure out if that's just cos they have similar facial hair.
Anyway, I'm getting all abstract now. Who do I think I am, Escher? Okay, sorry, that joke's wearing a little thin now, isn't it?
I'm sad to say I only have five days left in Melbourne, but on the positive side it's only five days left of completely frying myself sleep-wise and then I'll be in Tassie, where a little bird told me there's perhaps a little less action to distract me from my chamber of slumber. But that is a secret, so please. No further.
So sleep, here I come! Mind you I'll be solo parenting the entire week and a half...everybody say it with me. AAAAAGGGHH!
Anyway, it's 3.17am and I need to go to bed before my intestines jump onto the kitchen hot-plate and fry themselves. That WOULD be awkward.
Top moments of the night included finally having a proper introduction to Dave Callan (who, if you've been paying attention, will remember I clinked glasses with at the Gala after-party, only to have him dragged away by Rove). I reminded Dave of this and he went "ah yes, Rove. He's a shocking clinker thief." Insert star-struck-naieve-chuckle-by-Jenny here.
Within moments of catching up with Josh Thomas again outside the festival club, having him embrace his role as the comic-spotter to end all comic-spotters. "Look," he whispered, "there go three of the funniest guys in the world." And so they did: Demetri Martin, Daniel Kitson and David O'Doherty, strolling up Swanston Street in a three-headed social group of all-round funny-ness. Bless 'em.
But shock, horror, I am not even doing you the courtesy of relaying the night's events in chronological order. Who the hell do I think I am? Quentin Tarantino?
Backtracking...the day ended with handing over two kids, exhausted from trekking around Southgate and getting rained on in the park, bringing me into evening performing for a small but friendly audience - supporting Barb Joseph in "So I married an Arab". I was excited about doing a ten minute set, but yet again this got cut back to five due to time delays. Doh! So, I decided to put the stand-up aside and just do two songs, a decision which was seemingly affirmed by watching the final comedian in the previous show, the fabulous Jackie Loeb. I'd heard about her before but never seen her in action til tonight - she pretty much performed just song after song with the tiniest bit of stand-up thrown in. What an amazing voice and such great delivery and presence; I felt completely inspired and compelled to introduce myself and tell her so. "Thanks so much!" she said. "That means a lot coming from a comedian." Gush.
But hang on, there was stuff that happened before that too. Who the hell do I think I am? Jean-Luc Godard?
Backtracking...I walk into the Elephant & Wheelbarrow at St Kilda, sit down and what do I hear but a "Is that Jenny Wynter?" I look up and it's my fellow comic buddy from Brisvegas Nish! He and another Brissie comic (not to mention reluctant Tom Cruise lookalike) Alan Rutledge have just arrived in Melbourne this avo and are just stopping in to pick up their festival passes. It is so awesome to see them, just as I was beginning to feel lonely. :-)
I watch Caroline Chilura's (the other support for the evening and as a mummy comedian is a woman after my own heart) and then head off to the city with Nish and Alan. We manage to hook up with Josh Thomas ('aha!' you say, 'we're almost up to where this damn story started then!' and right you are) and venture up to the good old Victoria Hotel and check out the comedy rooms. I don't mean the shows in them comedy rooms, I mean literally, the comedy rooms. I start to get very, very excited (at Josh's prompting) about putting a show on in one of them at next year's fest. We get handed free beers by a very friendly young lady in a closed bar upstairs (to protect the innocent I shall omit names: don't think I need to but hell, it adds intrigue) who then proceeds to disclose the names of all the comics she's met and her personal opinions of each. I don't mean opinions of their material (although that was included), I mean her PERSONAL opinions based on PERSONAL experience of their PERSONALities. Interesting. Again, to protect the innocent all shall remain nameless. If you want details, you'll have to pay for the pleasure. I accept Visa and lattes.
The four Brissie amigos then head off to the Festival Club, where I'm happy to say we all have free passes. Greg Fleet MCs (damn he makes me laugh - there, how's that for a to-the-point comedy review?) with appearances from Charlie Pickering (very inspired by the characters, especially by the way he incorporates them quite seamlessly into his set), Fiona O'Loughlin (I actually let out a very uncool squeal of delight when she was announced as I wasn't expecting it and just LOVE her: she was fabulous as always in her smiley slash black fashion) and....da da da da, da da!!! TIM MINCHIN!!! In all his musical darkness, he actually reminded me in a very funny way of my mate Sam Mitchell (Sammy, that is a massive, massive compliment) but I'm still trying to figure out if that's just cos they have similar facial hair.
Anyway, I'm getting all abstract now. Who do I think I am, Escher? Okay, sorry, that joke's wearing a little thin now, isn't it?
I'm sad to say I only have five days left in Melbourne, but on the positive side it's only five days left of completely frying myself sleep-wise and then I'll be in Tassie, where a little bird told me there's perhaps a little less action to distract me from my chamber of slumber. But that is a secret, so please. No further.
So sleep, here I come! Mind you I'll be solo parenting the entire week and a half...everybody say it with me. AAAAAGGGHH!
Anyway, it's 3.17am and I need to go to bed before my intestines jump onto the kitchen hot-plate and fry themselves. That WOULD be awkward.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Belated photos from the week that was, is and will be
Josh and I in the famous "oh crap I forgot to take any photos at the actual event" pic.
Ella gettin' in on the physical comedy thang. Her show will be touring early 07.
And hanging on St Kilda "beach". I use the term loosely.
More hanging. With both kids, just to prove I don't play favourites.
Even more hanging. Again with both kids, but this time I'm trying to be a little artistic. Does it show?
It's all getting too much...
Too much action and too little sleep.
Can't....blog....everything......
So here you go, the Readers Digest version of the past couple of days and please forgive my brevity (hell, you're probably down on your knees with gratitude, who am I kidding?)
- almost dislocating my hip while walking for KILOMETRES around St Kilda handing out flyers for Comedy Knockout gig
- meeting Simon Moss in person FINALLY (Vibewire buddy) when he came to Comedy Knockout gig
- spending way too many hours post-Comedy Knockout gig, pub & coffee-crawling from St Kilda to the City to Northcote and still buzzing at 5am this morning
- indulging in an hour-long bath today (in an attempt to relieve my hip) while the kids napped
- doing box office on "Life After Dick" in St Kilda and stamping a smilie face on the wrist of none other than Neighbours' star Stefan Dennis (whose character Paul I have loved to loathe since Jason & Kylie were hot). At the risk of sounding like the celebrity slorry I am, 'he looked me in the eye, we exchanged words (insignificant ones, but words nonetheless) and EVERYTHING!' Oh, and it's pronounced Stef-AAAn for any of you who ever care. If you do meet him, be sure to get it right and maybe he'll give you jellybeans or something.
- having the BEST Melbourne gig yet at the Comedy Comedown at the Cue Bar in Brunswick, namely because I knew pretty much everybody in the audience, including Gemnastics (YAY!!!), TimT (WOOHOO!!), Lisa (YIPPEDY!!!), Rahima (COOLIO!!!) and Rachel & Michael (YADIDAAA!!!) As you can see, it was a big crowd. Regardless, it rocked my world - I felt relaxed and loved and 'these are a few of my favourite things!' There I go again, bursting into song. 'I'm so excited...' Stop me now before I break another hip.
- going to see Dave Hughes in "Hughsey Rides Again", my review of which will soon be published in The Pun and on their site www.thepun.com.au (and I do apologise for not just being able to link you directly there - Macs...don't even get me started)
- checking out improvisational troupe The Crew's regular impro show (that was actually on Sunday but I forgot to mention it) and then interviewing Rob Lloyd, their Artistic Director, which will also be in and on The Pun.
- and yeah, going to bed. Which I'll be doing very shortly and I guarantee you - I'll even be dreaming about sleep.
Yours in fatigued fatigue,
Jensta. x
Can't....blog....everything......
So here you go, the Readers Digest version of the past couple of days and please forgive my brevity (hell, you're probably down on your knees with gratitude, who am I kidding?)
- almost dislocating my hip while walking for KILOMETRES around St Kilda handing out flyers for Comedy Knockout gig
- meeting Simon Moss in person FINALLY (Vibewire buddy) when he came to Comedy Knockout gig
- spending way too many hours post-Comedy Knockout gig, pub & coffee-crawling from St Kilda to the City to Northcote and still buzzing at 5am this morning
- indulging in an hour-long bath today (in an attempt to relieve my hip) while the kids napped
- doing box office on "Life After Dick" in St Kilda and stamping a smilie face on the wrist of none other than Neighbours' star Stefan Dennis (whose character Paul I have loved to loathe since Jason & Kylie were hot). At the risk of sounding like the celebrity slorry I am, 'he looked me in the eye, we exchanged words (insignificant ones, but words nonetheless) and EVERYTHING!' Oh, and it's pronounced Stef-AAAn for any of you who ever care. If you do meet him, be sure to get it right and maybe he'll give you jellybeans or something.
- having the BEST Melbourne gig yet at the Comedy Comedown at the Cue Bar in Brunswick, namely because I knew pretty much everybody in the audience, including Gemnastics (YAY!!!), TimT (WOOHOO!!), Lisa (YIPPEDY!!!), Rahima (COOLIO!!!) and Rachel & Michael (YADIDAAA!!!) As you can see, it was a big crowd. Regardless, it rocked my world - I felt relaxed and loved and 'these are a few of my favourite things!' There I go again, bursting into song. 'I'm so excited...' Stop me now before I break another hip.
- going to see Dave Hughes in "Hughsey Rides Again", my review of which will soon be published in The Pun and on their site www.thepun.com.au (and I do apologise for not just being able to link you directly there - Macs...don't even get me started)
- checking out improvisational troupe The Crew's regular impro show (that was actually on Sunday but I forgot to mention it) and then interviewing Rob Lloyd, their Artistic Director, which will also be in and on The Pun.
- and yeah, going to bed. Which I'll be doing very shortly and I guarantee you - I'll even be dreaming about sleep.
Yours in fatigued fatigue,
Jensta. x
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
6 Things I Hate About Me
Wow. My first blog-tag. This trip is really turning into a life-time landmark.
Yah, so PunkRockMama has given me my mission, the rules and regulations of which are as follows: *clearing throat*
1. Reveal six weird facts/things/habits about yourself and then tag six people.
2. Leave a “You’re Tagged!” comment to let the people you have tagged know they have to reveal six things (or the entire blogosphere will explode and it will be their fault).
3. Leave me a comment letting me know that you have completed your mission (if you have chosen to accept it!)
Okay, so here goes:
1. While I'm addicted to blogging, I never complete these chain e-mail type reveals - I enjoy reading others' responses but I figure I'm self-absorbed enough as it is and already in danger of proclaiming national 'Let's just read all about Jenny!' week any day now. I'm sure I will one day, just as soon as I can find space on my Yahoo calendar.
2. I'm phone-a-phobic. I'd MUCH rather have a microphone in a room full of thousands of people than chat on the dirty old telephone. Luckily I have a 3-year-old PA who helps me out with that.
3. I have a phobia of public toilets. This multiplies exponentially when camping.
4. Being in libraries, book-stores or being struck by a bolt of inspiration has an automatic 'Jenny-you-need-to-go-to-the-toilet-right-now' effect. This causes me no end of trauma (see point number three). Subsequently I'm looking at installing an at-home library/bookstore/muse.
5. I practice my comedy in the car, sometimes without even realising that I'm doing so. This can be incredibly embarrassing when I realise that the person in the next car has caught glimpse of me - especially if I'm working on my 'baby-cam' bit (which, for those of you who haven't had the dubious pleasure of seeing it, is basically a physicalisation of a baby coming out of the canal - and no, I'm not talking Panama).
6. Sometimes when using a public toilet I get stage-fright and have to coach myself into peeing by saying stuff like 'Jen, you gave birth in front of a room full of strangers - a little widdle really ain't that bad.' Yes I'm a freak.
Oh crikey. When the hell did this become a toilet blog? I'm doomed.
Okay, I'm tagging:
1. Ash and Leon http://thevirginandtherecidivist.blogspot.com/
Cos they both make me laugh and I want to see if life abroad has in any way affected their quirkiness.
2. My hubby http://lifeofastudentteacherwithkids.blogspot.com/
Cos he might just respond in haiku.
3. Gem http://gempires.blogspot.com/
Cos she's the first blogger I ever followed and I'm nothing if not loyal. (I don't know if that even made sense - I'm sorry I'm surviving on VERY little sleep)
4. TimT http://willtypeforfood.blogspot.com/
Cos he never writes about anything personal so I'm intrigued to see how he fields this one.
5. Chris Daniel http://ibizachris.blogspot.com/
Cos he's a dude.
6. Bart Freebarin http://spaces.msn.com/tantyFist/
Cos I can hardly understand his random wacked-out musings so an unpredictable response is virtually guaranteed.
Yah, so PunkRockMama has given me my mission, the rules and regulations of which are as follows: *clearing throat*
1. Reveal six weird facts/things/habits about yourself and then tag six people.
2. Leave a “You’re Tagged!” comment to let the people you have tagged know they have to reveal six things (or the entire blogosphere will explode and it will be their fault).
3. Leave me a comment letting me know that you have completed your mission (if you have chosen to accept it!)
Okay, so here goes:
1. While I'm addicted to blogging, I never complete these chain e-mail type reveals - I enjoy reading others' responses but I figure I'm self-absorbed enough as it is and already in danger of proclaiming national 'Let's just read all about Jenny!' week any day now. I'm sure I will one day, just as soon as I can find space on my Yahoo calendar.
2. I'm phone-a-phobic. I'd MUCH rather have a microphone in a room full of thousands of people than chat on the dirty old telephone. Luckily I have a 3-year-old PA who helps me out with that.
3. I have a phobia of public toilets. This multiplies exponentially when camping.
4. Being in libraries, book-stores or being struck by a bolt of inspiration has an automatic 'Jenny-you-need-to-go-to-the-toilet-right-now' effect. This causes me no end of trauma (see point number three). Subsequently I'm looking at installing an at-home library/bookstore/muse.
5. I practice my comedy in the car, sometimes without even realising that I'm doing so. This can be incredibly embarrassing when I realise that the person in the next car has caught glimpse of me - especially if I'm working on my 'baby-cam' bit (which, for those of you who haven't had the dubious pleasure of seeing it, is basically a physicalisation of a baby coming out of the canal - and no, I'm not talking Panama).
6. Sometimes when using a public toilet I get stage-fright and have to coach myself into peeing by saying stuff like 'Jen, you gave birth in front of a room full of strangers - a little widdle really ain't that bad.' Yes I'm a freak.
Oh crikey. When the hell did this become a toilet blog? I'm doomed.
Okay, I'm tagging:
1. Ash and Leon http://thevirginandtherecidivist.blogspot.com/
Cos they both make me laugh and I want to see if life abroad has in any way affected their quirkiness.
2. My hubby http://lifeofastudentteacherwithkids.blogspot.com/
Cos he might just respond in haiku.
3. Gem http://gempires.blogspot.com/
Cos she's the first blogger I ever followed and I'm nothing if not loyal. (I don't know if that even made sense - I'm sorry I'm surviving on VERY little sleep)
4. TimT http://willtypeforfood.blogspot.com/
Cos he never writes about anything personal so I'm intrigued to see how he fields this one.
5. Chris Daniel http://ibizachris.blogspot.com/
Cos he's a dude.
6. Bart Freebarin http://spaces.msn.com/tantyFist/
Cos I can hardly understand his random wacked-out musings so an unpredictable response is virtually guaranteed.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
My first piece of fan-mail!
I just received this ever-so-lovely e-mail from a lady called Amanda who caught my first Melbourne gig last week - I chatted to her from on-stage during my set and she was apparently chuffed enough to drop me a line. Subsequently I am apparently chuffed enough to drop her line into my blog. In fact, I may even be chuffed enough to print it out, frame it and hang it on my wall. Oh hang on...on second thought I take that back. There is no WAY I'm that organised.
Anyhoo, yay for my first ever piece of fan-mail. Even if it's the last, I'm just so thrilled to have any. How's that for refreshing un-jadedness?
***
Hi Jenny,
I just wanted to say a very belated THANKS for being such a funny chick & being proud to be a mummy!!!
Yay, about time some of us did it.
Caught you at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow last Wed (was, wait, am friend of Carolyn Chillura's) - I'm the chick that had the weird morning & took my 3 year old to uni - the 3 year old who is obviously incredibly intellegent (or who has a mummy who is incredibly stressed!)
Really enjoyed it and wish there were more out there like you!
Am bribing and throwing some tanties in order to try to get out & catch you again whilst you're still in Melb! (not looking good at moment, you know, kids, hubby etc etc)
Anyhoo, thanks again & good luck with the rest of your tour :)
Amanda xo
www.realmums.com.au
Anyhoo, yay for my first ever piece of fan-mail. Even if it's the last, I'm just so thrilled to have any. How's that for refreshing un-jadedness?
***
Hi Jenny,
I just wanted to say a very belated THANKS for being such a funny chick & being proud to be a mummy!!!
Yay, about time some of us did it.
Caught you at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow last Wed (was, wait, am friend of Carolyn Chillura's) - I'm the chick that had the weird morning & took my 3 year old to uni - the 3 year old who is obviously incredibly intellegent (or who has a mummy who is incredibly stressed!)
Really enjoyed it and wish there were more out there like you!
Am bribing and throwing some tanties in order to try to get out & catch you again whilst you're still in Melb! (not looking good at moment, you know, kids, hubby etc etc)
Anyhoo, thanks again & good luck with the rest of your tour :)
Amanda xo
www.realmums.com.au
Monday, April 17, 2006
Live at The Glasshouse
Appetite for live television - consider yourself whet.
Tonight got to get up close and personal at the live taping of two episodes of The Glasshouse, thanks to Head Writer Ian Simmons, with whom I'll be doing a writing internship with Good News Week TV come November. Free tix to a show I'll get to work on for a week and a half? Can I get an A-men?!
A side-bonus to this was giving the gift of surprise to my friend Rachel's boyfriend Michael, a mad-keen Glasshouse fan. He'd already expressed his disappointment that the night's session was sold out and lamenting that he'd not been able to get tickets. Thinking he was driving me in to the city to drop me off for a gig, at the last minute I turned to him and did some of my best acting. What a pity it was such a small crowd.
Me: "Oh, I don't know, I'm nervous."
Him: "Really?"
Me: "I don't think I want to do this gig."
Him: "How come?"
Me: "Hmmm...do you wanna go see The Glasshouse?"
Him: "What?"
Me: "I've got two free tickets!"
Him: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yep!"
Him: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yep!"
Him: "Are y-"
Me: "YEP!"
Him: "But...what about your gig?"
Me: "There is no gig! There never was a gig, there never will be a gig. This is all a complete conspiracy and in thirteen hours you will wake up in an unspecified South American country with no recollection of who you are."
Okay, so I made that last bit up. But he was suitably chuffed and his excitement elevated mine to even greater heights.
Ah,The Glasshouse. Cool format, very cool guests and of course, very cool Hughsey - my favourite. Seriously, the guy has just got his comic schtick down so perfectly that he can utter one word and have people convulsing with reckless abandon. The guests included Cal Wilson, David O'Doherty, Jason Byrne, Lehmo and Akmal Saleh, plus a couple of breakfast radio chicks - whose obvious experience in having to be assertive in getting a word in amongst very talkative guys seemed to hold them in good stead. I don't mean to generalise and am purely speaking from my own experience, but sometimes being a chick in this field (particularly in impro, though not with everybody) can feel kinda like driving on a busy highway - you have to almost force yourself into the next lane in a proactive manner: if you wait for a break in the traffic, you're only going to grind to a halt. Contentious? Perhaps. But true methinks. Cal Wilson for instance - she was (and is) hilarious - but seemed to have a hard time getting a word in on several occasions. Luckily Wil seems pretty onto it in terms of facilitating, though there were a few times when a couple of comedians got so carried away with their rants that Wil joked 'hey, I'm not actually in this episode.' Ah comedians. We are a self-indulgent lot.
Afterwards I tried to mosy on backstage to say thanks to Ian for the tickets, but the chick at the gate wasn't letting anyone through. I hung around, then a minute or so later a lady with shoulder-length blonde hair who was obviously someone in authority started leading people through. The girl at the gate mentioned I was looking for Ian, at which the lovely blonde lady grabbed my hand and led me back-stage with her. I wandered back and felt like I was part of this cool secret 'backstage at Town Hall!' club, which I spose in a pathetic kinda way I was. Spotted Ian and had a nice chat to him for about ten minutes about the show - what a lovely, generous man. Then Wil came over, we shook hands and he did a double-take. I jogged his memory and told him that we'd met last year when Alex and I interviewed him on The Frog and Peach on ZZZ.
"Of course, I'm much hotter these days," I said.
Okay, so I made that last bit up.
Of particular note was Dave Hughes getting dressed up and being interviewed as a poodle with Jason Byrne donning a rubber-glove ready for a urine-inducing perenium tickle. I'll sure as hell be interested to see how they edit THAT.
In summary, I laughed more than I've laughed at most stand-up comedy I've seen of late - not that the comedy I've seen hasn't rocked, but I think the studio-audience television format really works for me. I am completely inspired and affirmed that this is really where I want to head: television comedy, ideally live. Ooh, I can almost smell the adrenalin from here.
Tonight got to get up close and personal at the live taping of two episodes of The Glasshouse, thanks to Head Writer Ian Simmons, with whom I'll be doing a writing internship with Good News Week TV come November. Free tix to a show I'll get to work on for a week and a half? Can I get an A-men?!
A side-bonus to this was giving the gift of surprise to my friend Rachel's boyfriend Michael, a mad-keen Glasshouse fan. He'd already expressed his disappointment that the night's session was sold out and lamenting that he'd not been able to get tickets. Thinking he was driving me in to the city to drop me off for a gig, at the last minute I turned to him and did some of my best acting. What a pity it was such a small crowd.
Me: "Oh, I don't know, I'm nervous."
Him: "Really?"
Me: "I don't think I want to do this gig."
Him: "How come?"
Me: "Hmmm...do you wanna go see The Glasshouse?"
Him: "What?"
Me: "I've got two free tickets!"
Him: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yep!"
Him: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yep!"
Him: "Are y-"
Me: "YEP!"
Him: "But...what about your gig?"
Me: "There is no gig! There never was a gig, there never will be a gig. This is all a complete conspiracy and in thirteen hours you will wake up in an unspecified South American country with no recollection of who you are."
Okay, so I made that last bit up. But he was suitably chuffed and his excitement elevated mine to even greater heights.
Ah,The Glasshouse. Cool format, very cool guests and of course, very cool Hughsey - my favourite. Seriously, the guy has just got his comic schtick down so perfectly that he can utter one word and have people convulsing with reckless abandon. The guests included Cal Wilson, David O'Doherty, Jason Byrne, Lehmo and Akmal Saleh, plus a couple of breakfast radio chicks - whose obvious experience in having to be assertive in getting a word in amongst very talkative guys seemed to hold them in good stead. I don't mean to generalise and am purely speaking from my own experience, but sometimes being a chick in this field (particularly in impro, though not with everybody) can feel kinda like driving on a busy highway - you have to almost force yourself into the next lane in a proactive manner: if you wait for a break in the traffic, you're only going to grind to a halt. Contentious? Perhaps. But true methinks. Cal Wilson for instance - she was (and is) hilarious - but seemed to have a hard time getting a word in on several occasions. Luckily Wil seems pretty onto it in terms of facilitating, though there were a few times when a couple of comedians got so carried away with their rants that Wil joked 'hey, I'm not actually in this episode.' Ah comedians. We are a self-indulgent lot.
Afterwards I tried to mosy on backstage to say thanks to Ian for the tickets, but the chick at the gate wasn't letting anyone through. I hung around, then a minute or so later a lady with shoulder-length blonde hair who was obviously someone in authority started leading people through. The girl at the gate mentioned I was looking for Ian, at which the lovely blonde lady grabbed my hand and led me back-stage with her. I wandered back and felt like I was part of this cool secret 'backstage at Town Hall!' club, which I spose in a pathetic kinda way I was. Spotted Ian and had a nice chat to him for about ten minutes about the show - what a lovely, generous man. Then Wil came over, we shook hands and he did a double-take. I jogged his memory and told him that we'd met last year when Alex and I interviewed him on The Frog and Peach on ZZZ.
"Of course, I'm much hotter these days," I said.
Okay, so I made that last bit up.
Of particular note was Dave Hughes getting dressed up and being interviewed as a poodle with Jason Byrne donning a rubber-glove ready for a urine-inducing perenium tickle. I'll sure as hell be interested to see how they edit THAT.
In summary, I laughed more than I've laughed at most stand-up comedy I've seen of late - not that the comedy I've seen hasn't rocked, but I think the studio-audience television format really works for me. I am completely inspired and affirmed that this is really where I want to head: television comedy, ideally live. Ooh, I can almost smell the adrenalin from here.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Lessons from Arj Barker, Daniel Kitson & Tom Gleeson
So the payoff to the cliffhanger of the last blog-post (I can just imagine the billions of you reading this going 'ooh, ahh, the festival club...did she end up going? Ooooh, I can hardly WAIT to find out!!!!') is that yes, I ended up going. In fact, ended up wasting over an hour of time and a quarter of a tank of petrol trying to find a damn park in the city - luckily for me I finally found one before my 12.30 deadline and turned into some unspecified vegetable.
The up-side of this was that by the time I finally made it to the Hi-Fi Bar, the street-long queue was gone and I just cruised on in, just in time to see Daniel Kitson take the stage as the evening's compere.
Oh boy - it was so awesome just to sit back and watch some of the best comedians do their thing. You see, my hubby and I have an agreement that I will limit the number of nights I'm out of the house to three a week and that's absolute MAX. It's usually more like two. Which is fair enough; I mean, it is pretty stressful being left to do the night-time routine with the kids flying solo (as my crazy week thus far seems to prove). So usually my priority is actually performing at gigs, rather than just going out to see them, in terms of filling up my weekly quota. Gees, I hope hubby's not coming across as some psychotic 'sleeping with the enemy' style spouse here. He's certainly not. I mean, sure, the dog collar was kinda weird at first, but now I just think of it as post-modern goth.
Anyway, so to actually go SEE a show without any pressure to do my own thing was fabulous - and oh, what a bunch. Here's what I learned:
Daniel Kitson - hardly seeming to perform any actual 'bits', Kitson just let his personality carry him through. He really inspired me to just put more of myself into my comedy and not pretend to be anybody. Also just to take the mickey out of yourself, speak the truth of your situation (as my impro coach and dear friend Anne always encourages) e.g. to a poor member of the audience he was picking upon, he said 'see, I don't mean to be mean, but here I am standing in front of a group of strangers wanting them to love me, so I'll happily pick on another stranger, so that the other strangers will love me." Worded much funnier, of course, but that was the gist.
Arj Barker - uses some traditional comedy techniques of course, but then just goes beyond that to just do what he thinks is funny. You feel as though you've just sat in a room at a fairly stoned party with him going off on a bong-fuelled rant. Also, what really stood out was just his confidence. The man has tude, he knows he's funny and he just tells you to laugh. And you do. His delivery is his best asset (I guess some girls would argue with me there) - I was particularly struck by his mic technique. He varies his volume a lot, in fact even yelling parts of his routine and adjusting the mic accordingly. It occurred to me how impeccable this technique is: he even brings the mic in basically to make contact with his mouth to deliver some punch-lines. It comes across as raw as if it's just rolled off his tongue, yet I suspect he's much more polished than that. Or it could be he's just so damn good now that it comes naturally.
Tom Gleeson - I'd seen Tom do his stuff before, so it was cool seeing it a second time to really just analyse what he was doing. I really like the way he tells a whole long story, rather than just a series of smaller gags - I read an article this week where Demetri Martin said that 'jokes are like bricks that you build with' and I really saw this in action with Tom. Not that his style of comedy is especially my taste, but I could really see how well crafted his longer story was.
Overall, I left feeling tired (yes, I am a broken record: I'm getting a new ID that says so) but really invigorated if not slightly daunted by the notion of how far I have to go. I just feel like I have SO MUCH WORK to do this year in terms of becoming a better comedian. I'm really only on my training wheels, I'm doing okay, but if I really put my mind to it this year I think I could become ten times better by the time the next Melbourne fest swings around. I've already begun writing some new stuff, which I'm feeling very excited about, plus again, I want to focus much more on my musical comedy - in my mind, my biggest strength. I feel like thus far my material is just me writing what I THINK my comedy should be, rather than just writing what comes naturally and what I think is funny and what is just ME.
Cos I guess that's what struck me most about Dan and Arj in particular - their comedy is just 'this is me' - and I think people really respond to that, because by the end of the night, you feel as though you're their friend.
My slogan has been to this point 'turning friends and family into audience members' - now I just need to work on the vice versa part.
(Moreso for the friends than the family, as I suspect the latter could have serious legal implications. Then again, all publicity is good publicity.)
The up-side of this was that by the time I finally made it to the Hi-Fi Bar, the street-long queue was gone and I just cruised on in, just in time to see Daniel Kitson take the stage as the evening's compere.
Oh boy - it was so awesome just to sit back and watch some of the best comedians do their thing. You see, my hubby and I have an agreement that I will limit the number of nights I'm out of the house to three a week and that's absolute MAX. It's usually more like two. Which is fair enough; I mean, it is pretty stressful being left to do the night-time routine with the kids flying solo (as my crazy week thus far seems to prove). So usually my priority is actually performing at gigs, rather than just going out to see them, in terms of filling up my weekly quota. Gees, I hope hubby's not coming across as some psychotic 'sleeping with the enemy' style spouse here. He's certainly not. I mean, sure, the dog collar was kinda weird at first, but now I just think of it as post-modern goth.
Anyway, so to actually go SEE a show without any pressure to do my own thing was fabulous - and oh, what a bunch. Here's what I learned:
Daniel Kitson - hardly seeming to perform any actual 'bits', Kitson just let his personality carry him through. He really inspired me to just put more of myself into my comedy and not pretend to be anybody. Also just to take the mickey out of yourself, speak the truth of your situation (as my impro coach and dear friend Anne always encourages) e.g. to a poor member of the audience he was picking upon, he said 'see, I don't mean to be mean, but here I am standing in front of a group of strangers wanting them to love me, so I'll happily pick on another stranger, so that the other strangers will love me." Worded much funnier, of course, but that was the gist.
Arj Barker - uses some traditional comedy techniques of course, but then just goes beyond that to just do what he thinks is funny. You feel as though you've just sat in a room at a fairly stoned party with him going off on a bong-fuelled rant. Also, what really stood out was just his confidence. The man has tude, he knows he's funny and he just tells you to laugh. And you do. His delivery is his best asset (I guess some girls would argue with me there) - I was particularly struck by his mic technique. He varies his volume a lot, in fact even yelling parts of his routine and adjusting the mic accordingly. It occurred to me how impeccable this technique is: he even brings the mic in basically to make contact with his mouth to deliver some punch-lines. It comes across as raw as if it's just rolled off his tongue, yet I suspect he's much more polished than that. Or it could be he's just so damn good now that it comes naturally.
Tom Gleeson - I'd seen Tom do his stuff before, so it was cool seeing it a second time to really just analyse what he was doing. I really like the way he tells a whole long story, rather than just a series of smaller gags - I read an article this week where Demetri Martin said that 'jokes are like bricks that you build with' and I really saw this in action with Tom. Not that his style of comedy is especially my taste, but I could really see how well crafted his longer story was.
Overall, I left feeling tired (yes, I am a broken record: I'm getting a new ID that says so) but really invigorated if not slightly daunted by the notion of how far I have to go. I just feel like I have SO MUCH WORK to do this year in terms of becoming a better comedian. I'm really only on my training wheels, I'm doing okay, but if I really put my mind to it this year I think I could become ten times better by the time the next Melbourne fest swings around. I've already begun writing some new stuff, which I'm feeling very excited about, plus again, I want to focus much more on my musical comedy - in my mind, my biggest strength. I feel like thus far my material is just me writing what I THINK my comedy should be, rather than just writing what comes naturally and what I think is funny and what is just ME.
Cos I guess that's what struck me most about Dan and Arj in particular - their comedy is just 'this is me' - and I think people really respond to that, because by the end of the night, you feel as though you're their friend.
My slogan has been to this point 'turning friends and family into audience members' - now I just need to work on the vice versa part.
(Moreso for the friends than the family, as I suspect the latter could have serious legal implications. Then again, all publicity is good publicity.)
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Single mothers of the world...I salute you
Four days, DAYS I tell you, of single parenting, and I'm just about ready to drown myself. My good friend Jo even went so far as to advise me to stay away from baths, lakes and small puddles. Seriously, single mamas out there, how the hell do you do it?!?! AND I've even had the luxury of a couple of nights' babysitting to go do my thang on the comedy circuit...and I'm still done for. Not that it's all been bad, of course. It's actually been kinda cool to be removed from the distractions of everyday life back in Brissie and just hang with the kids all day. I even managed to do a bit of sight-seeing with them - strolling along St Kilda beach, doing babycinos on Lygon Street and even a picnic in the Botanical Gardens. But come yesterday morning, I apparently crossed the threshold of mummy-holding-it-togetherness and began to lose the plot, morphing into something of the Anti-Mummy. I am Mummy, hear me roar. (And not in a good way).
Thank heavens Tim's here now!! We greeted each other at the airport at the very freezingly indecent hour of almost-ten-ish (my one benefit of the late drive out there was knowing the kids would at least fall asleep in the car - hell, I was tempted to start the trip four hours early and just do laps), with him ready to collapse with loving randiness and me ready to collapse with exhausted gratefulness.
So as of this morning, my first sleep-in of the tour and boy does it make a difference. The kids look cuter, the day looks brighter (even though it's officially FREEZING) and even the chook-poo on Rachel's lawn looks kinda palatable. Erm...on second look at that last sentence, perhaps I could use a couple more hours of napping after all.
But yeah, life's back from rock-hard to good old rockin. Hell, I might even make it into the Comedy Festival Club tonight and see what's going down.
Word.
Friday, April 14, 2006
The After Party that Was
The entrance:
We linger outside Rosati's - a quite enormous and suitably snazzy setting with a large square bar at its centre - and chat briefly to Toby Sullivan, the Raw Comedy Producer who nods at Josh and I, greeting us with: "JT, JW." We've been here under a minute and aleady I feel cool.
The introduction:
We make our way inside where I am too busy admiring the funky fluoro wedding-style-cake to start celebrity spotting yet. Josh, however is on the task. As we form a little hub with Josh's friend and co-Comedy-Zone performer Matt, Josh leans over and whispers to me: "That is SOOO Rove McManus." I look over his shoulder to the couch a couple of metres away and he's right. It SOOO is. There with his wife, apparently he was one of the first to arrive as he and Belinda had opted for a birthday dinner instead of the gala. Everybody say it together with me, AWWWWWW... As the champagnes start to descend, I find myself using Rove as my point of navigation in the room - as he doesn't move all night. I guess that's when you know you've got power in this industry: you no longer need to work the room, you just stay put and let the party come to you.
Josh reveals himself to be the David Attenborough of comedy, embracing me as his long lost little tourist in need of guide.
"Charlie Pickering."
"Akmal."
"Behind you: that is SOOO Eddie Perfect."
And so it continues, in what if I try to repeat it all here will just seem like I'm shamelessly name-dropping. And I'd hate for it to SEEM that way because obviously that's so far from the truth. Ehem. Ehem. Ehem.
The Party:
My heart stops a beat for half a second as I look across the small circle in which I'm standing and realise Tim Minchin has just joined it. We make eye contact and I quickly look away - I suck. Apparently I'm now my high-school self, preferring to fob someone off and look like I hate them, rather than risk them knowing that...shock, horror: I like them! I sip on my drink, pep-talking myself into introducing myself to him. We have e-mailed before and I think he'd remember me if I jogged his memory...but I've missed my moment. Person after person comes up to him - he is one man of the moment. And I suck. That said, I will get another moment. "Haha," I hear you say, "as if Jen. When the hell will you get another moment to chat with Tim Minchin this festival?" Well, people, have I got news for you! I'm doing reviews and stuff for thepun.com, one of which is (tentatively) an interview with Monsieur Minchin himself. Be still my beating comedic timing.
Briefly chatted to Corinne Grant again in the bathrooms, Dave Hughes said hi as I walked up the bathroom stairs (where I also flitted past Chris Lilley), Demetri Martin looked quite lonely sitting at a back table with only his guitar for company - Josh and I debated going up to keep him company but resolved we'd rather leave the guy in his monkly soltitude rather than look like star-struck geeks. Because, as you can see by this blog entry already, that's SOOO not the case...okay, I'm gonna stop name-dropping now, seriously. If you have any specific requests of comedians-Jen-spotted, then please take a ticket and I'll endeavour to address them as soon as possible.
Was very cool to catch up again with Kent Valentine who's doing a show down here - if you remember correctly (which you probably don't, I mean no offence, but who DOES?) - Kent and I went head-to-head at last year's TINA in the hip-hop-to-the-death battle and felt instantly bonded as a result. It was certainly nice to have a familiar face to crack up a conversation with!
Cos that's the thing - while the guest list reads like an all-you-can-muster-buffet of Aussie comedy, it's hard to actually muster up the guts to TALK to these people. Firstly, because everybody wants to talk to them and so it's very difficult to get a leg in, secondly, you don't want to look like a complete geek and thirdly, you don't want to look like a complete geek. As Josh said at the end of the night "I'm sure if you did actually go up they'd be really nice, it's just getting to them!"
BUT...very very cool indeed was meeting a heap of people I didn't recognise at all. Like a producer from Spicks and Specks, Lucy Sullivan who books the comics on Rove, a writer from Rove who's also directing two women's comedy shows in the fest, one of Andrew Denton's producers, a woman who scouts talent for Edinburgh Comedy Festival and more. And the weird part of all this was how serendipitous it all seemed - I didn't hunt out ANY of these people and yet we just somehow ended up in conversation. Granted, at an event like this I guess the odds are kinda high, but still, there would have easily been 400+ people in the room so it still seems pretty strange-in-a-good-way.
Weirdest of all was chatting to this guy for about five minutes, without us actually having introduced ourselves. Suddenly someone else joins us, and said guy shakes his hand and says "Hey, I'm Arty." I do a complete double-take. THIS is Arty!!! Allow me to take you on a flash-back...
***
4 days ago at Corndale gig (in Northern NSW)
I do my spot and afterwards the headliner comedian corners me and just gives me some of the most affirming feedback I've ever received in my life (as you would already know if you read my previous blog entry - I'd link it here but my friend's puter doesn't allow me to for some strange reason). But the part of conversation which is relevant here went something like this:
Him: "Oh, it'll all happen for you, don't worry. Arty Laing'll get his hands on you."
Me: "Oh yeah?"
Him: "Have you met Arty yet?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Well, I'm talking to him this week, so I'll definitely be bringing up your name."
***
Flash forward:
I do a complete double-take. THIS is Arty! CEO of A-List Entertainment (amongst Australia's top entertainment agencies/promoters/producers) I pry my jaw shut and look at him for another second. The other person leaves.
Me: "So you're Arty. I've just clicked where I know your name from."
Arty: "Oh yeah?"
Me: "Yeah."
I've had three champagnes now and my courage is at its peak.
Me: "Yeah, a comedian in Brissie mentioned you the other day - he said he's going to be chatting to you this week and is going to tell you about me."
Arty: "Really. Well, you're here now, why don't you just tell me about you?"
Me: "Okay." Silently wishing I'd had half a glass less of champagne and half a minute more of preparation.
Arty: "Let me guess: you're a really funny comedian."
Me: "I'll bet you get that all the time."
Arty: "Not as often as you'd think."
We continue chatting for about another ten minutes, after which time the bald half of the Umbilical Brothers joins us - Arty introduces me and offers me a free ticket to their show but I'm not sure if he's just being nice as Umby Man doesn't look quite as enthusiastic. They get chatting and I try to work out a subtle-yet-classy way to slip Arty a business card. If nothing else, I am DETERMINED to leave him with my contact details! Not that anything amazing's going to come out of that straight away, I mean it's not like you can convince someone you're talented based on a single conversation, but at least it's a foot in the door. I do, say bye and head off to mingle some more.
THE AFTER-AFTER-PARTY
Hours have passed already and we're being moved along. Turns out that what we previously though were just downstairs bathrooms actually open up into a secret bat-cave of exclusive night-clubness! Josh and I boogie on down right next to Stephen K Amos, Eddie Perfect and Fiona O'Loughlin (oh damn, there I go again: I am WAY too uncool to be a celebrity, I'd just spend all my time gushing) and I even manage to sneak in a mutual wave to Arj Barker, though I'm not convinced he knows it's me (i.e. the chick he saw onstage the night before) as it's not only dark but I am very uncharacteristically dolled up.
I'm still riddled with post-part-buzz, but Josh is tired and his fatigue soon rubs off - or rather, wakes me up to my own tiredness (go figure that one out: I dare ya.) We make a move and head for home, but not before...
Me: Oh no!
Josh: What?
Me: I forgot to take a single photo!
Josh: Oh.
Me: We have to take one now.
Josh: Are you-
Me: WE HAVE TO!!!
*holding him at gunpoint, I mean lens-point* (or something)
I'll post it as soon as I can figure out this computer. So hooray - all was not lost after all.
***
THE CONCLUSION
I had the absolute time of my life, even if it did feel at times like being at high school where you're not yet in THAT group of cool people. Which of course, is exactly where everybody wants to be. As Josh and I stood next to the front door watching the likes of Danny Bhoy stroll in post-gala-gig, I whispered to him "Who knows Josh? Maybe five years from now, you and I will be strolling in through those doors and two young unknowns will be standing in this exact spot, going, 'Oh look! It's Josh and Jen!" Hey...it doesn't hurt to dream.
Especially when there's free beer on offer.
We linger outside Rosati's - a quite enormous and suitably snazzy setting with a large square bar at its centre - and chat briefly to Toby Sullivan, the Raw Comedy Producer who nods at Josh and I, greeting us with: "JT, JW." We've been here under a minute and aleady I feel cool.
The introduction:
We make our way inside where I am too busy admiring the funky fluoro wedding-style-cake to start celebrity spotting yet. Josh, however is on the task. As we form a little hub with Josh's friend and co-Comedy-Zone performer Matt, Josh leans over and whispers to me: "That is SOOO Rove McManus." I look over his shoulder to the couch a couple of metres away and he's right. It SOOO is. There with his wife, apparently he was one of the first to arrive as he and Belinda had opted for a birthday dinner instead of the gala. Everybody say it together with me, AWWWWWW... As the champagnes start to descend, I find myself using Rove as my point of navigation in the room - as he doesn't move all night. I guess that's when you know you've got power in this industry: you no longer need to work the room, you just stay put and let the party come to you.
Josh reveals himself to be the David Attenborough of comedy, embracing me as his long lost little tourist in need of guide.
"Charlie Pickering."
"Akmal."
"Behind you: that is SOOO Eddie Perfect."
And so it continues, in what if I try to repeat it all here will just seem like I'm shamelessly name-dropping. And I'd hate for it to SEEM that way because obviously that's so far from the truth. Ehem. Ehem. Ehem.
The Party:
My heart stops a beat for half a second as I look across the small circle in which I'm standing and realise Tim Minchin has just joined it. We make eye contact and I quickly look away - I suck. Apparently I'm now my high-school self, preferring to fob someone off and look like I hate them, rather than risk them knowing that...shock, horror: I like them! I sip on my drink, pep-talking myself into introducing myself to him. We have e-mailed before and I think he'd remember me if I jogged his memory...but I've missed my moment. Person after person comes up to him - he is one man of the moment. And I suck. That said, I will get another moment. "Haha," I hear you say, "as if Jen. When the hell will you get another moment to chat with Tim Minchin this festival?" Well, people, have I got news for you! I'm doing reviews and stuff for thepun.com, one of which is (tentatively) an interview with Monsieur Minchin himself. Be still my beating comedic timing.
Briefly chatted to Corinne Grant again in the bathrooms, Dave Hughes said hi as I walked up the bathroom stairs (where I also flitted past Chris Lilley), Demetri Martin looked quite lonely sitting at a back table with only his guitar for company - Josh and I debated going up to keep him company but resolved we'd rather leave the guy in his monkly soltitude rather than look like star-struck geeks. Because, as you can see by this blog entry already, that's SOOO not the case...okay, I'm gonna stop name-dropping now, seriously. If you have any specific requests of comedians-Jen-spotted, then please take a ticket and I'll endeavour to address them as soon as possible.
Was very cool to catch up again with Kent Valentine who's doing a show down here - if you remember correctly (which you probably don't, I mean no offence, but who DOES?) - Kent and I went head-to-head at last year's TINA in the hip-hop-to-the-death battle and felt instantly bonded as a result. It was certainly nice to have a familiar face to crack up a conversation with!
Cos that's the thing - while the guest list reads like an all-you-can-muster-buffet of Aussie comedy, it's hard to actually muster up the guts to TALK to these people. Firstly, because everybody wants to talk to them and so it's very difficult to get a leg in, secondly, you don't want to look like a complete geek and thirdly, you don't want to look like a complete geek. As Josh said at the end of the night "I'm sure if you did actually go up they'd be really nice, it's just getting to them!"
BUT...very very cool indeed was meeting a heap of people I didn't recognise at all. Like a producer from Spicks and Specks, Lucy Sullivan who books the comics on Rove, a writer from Rove who's also directing two women's comedy shows in the fest, one of Andrew Denton's producers, a woman who scouts talent for Edinburgh Comedy Festival and more. And the weird part of all this was how serendipitous it all seemed - I didn't hunt out ANY of these people and yet we just somehow ended up in conversation. Granted, at an event like this I guess the odds are kinda high, but still, there would have easily been 400+ people in the room so it still seems pretty strange-in-a-good-way.
Weirdest of all was chatting to this guy for about five minutes, without us actually having introduced ourselves. Suddenly someone else joins us, and said guy shakes his hand and says "Hey, I'm Arty." I do a complete double-take. THIS is Arty!!! Allow me to take you on a flash-back...
***
4 days ago at Corndale gig (in Northern NSW)
I do my spot and afterwards the headliner comedian corners me and just gives me some of the most affirming feedback I've ever received in my life (as you would already know if you read my previous blog entry - I'd link it here but my friend's puter doesn't allow me to for some strange reason). But the part of conversation which is relevant here went something like this:
Him: "Oh, it'll all happen for you, don't worry. Arty Laing'll get his hands on you."
Me: "Oh yeah?"
Him: "Have you met Arty yet?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Well, I'm talking to him this week, so I'll definitely be bringing up your name."
***
Flash forward:
I do a complete double-take. THIS is Arty! CEO of A-List Entertainment (amongst Australia's top entertainment agencies/promoters/producers) I pry my jaw shut and look at him for another second. The other person leaves.
Me: "So you're Arty. I've just clicked where I know your name from."
Arty: "Oh yeah?"
Me: "Yeah."
I've had three champagnes now and my courage is at its peak.
Me: "Yeah, a comedian in Brissie mentioned you the other day - he said he's going to be chatting to you this week and is going to tell you about me."
Arty: "Really. Well, you're here now, why don't you just tell me about you?"
Me: "Okay." Silently wishing I'd had half a glass less of champagne and half a minute more of preparation.
Arty: "Let me guess: you're a really funny comedian."
Me: "I'll bet you get that all the time."
Arty: "Not as often as you'd think."
We continue chatting for about another ten minutes, after which time the bald half of the Umbilical Brothers joins us - Arty introduces me and offers me a free ticket to their show but I'm not sure if he's just being nice as Umby Man doesn't look quite as enthusiastic. They get chatting and I try to work out a subtle-yet-classy way to slip Arty a business card. If nothing else, I am DETERMINED to leave him with my contact details! Not that anything amazing's going to come out of that straight away, I mean it's not like you can convince someone you're talented based on a single conversation, but at least it's a foot in the door. I do, say bye and head off to mingle some more.
THE AFTER-AFTER-PARTY
Hours have passed already and we're being moved along. Turns out that what we previously though were just downstairs bathrooms actually open up into a secret bat-cave of exclusive night-clubness! Josh and I boogie on down right next to Stephen K Amos, Eddie Perfect and Fiona O'Loughlin (oh damn, there I go again: I am WAY too uncool to be a celebrity, I'd just spend all my time gushing) and I even manage to sneak in a mutual wave to Arj Barker, though I'm not convinced he knows it's me (i.e. the chick he saw onstage the night before) as it's not only dark but I am very uncharacteristically dolled up.
I'm still riddled with post-part-buzz, but Josh is tired and his fatigue soon rubs off - or rather, wakes me up to my own tiredness (go figure that one out: I dare ya.) We make a move and head for home, but not before...
Me: Oh no!
Josh: What?
Me: I forgot to take a single photo!
Josh: Oh.
Me: We have to take one now.
Josh: Are you-
Me: WE HAVE TO!!!
*holding him at gunpoint, I mean lens-point* (or something)
I'll post it as soon as I can figure out this computer. So hooray - all was not lost after all.
***
THE CONCLUSION
I had the absolute time of my life, even if it did feel at times like being at high school where you're not yet in THAT group of cool people. Which of course, is exactly where everybody wants to be. As Josh and I stood next to the front door watching the likes of Danny Bhoy stroll in post-gala-gig, I whispered to him "Who knows Josh? Maybe five years from now, you and I will be strolling in through those doors and two young unknowns will be standing in this exact spot, going, 'Oh look! It's Josh and Jen!" Hey...it doesn't hurt to dream.
Especially when there's free beer on offer.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Brief sleep-deprived update
The only thing I'm running on right now is pure excitement. Two nights x 4 hours of sleep and as soon as my post-gala-party-euphoria runs out I'm done for.
I promise I'll write the full run-down when my eyes stop hurting and I'm not trying to maintain some semblance of good parenting with the kids (suffice to say "Monsters Inc" is my new best friend), but just to give you a brief taste-tester...
Number of famous people rubbed shoulders with: uncountable - pretty much anyone who's on the Aussie comedy scene. You know it's a good party when Dave Callan comes up and clinks glasses with you un-prompted, only to be dragged away into the neighbouring social circle by Rove McManus.
Number of famous people talked to: significantly less - not that they weren't friendly but I was shy.
Number of producers/managers/talent bookers talked to: significantly more (I know, I'm being very vague on my numbers here, but I actually had some really good chats with some very cool and important - if less recognisable - people)
Number of yukky-tasting-but-courage-increasing-champagnes consumed - 3 (at last, some quantifiable research!)
Number of photos taken - 4 (but they were an afterthought and are all of me and Josh outside the party on our way home)
Number of times I said 'surreal' - 58
Number of hours until I write the full update - 8 (but that's assuming I get some sleep between now and then)
Number of coffees needed to survive the next hour - 2 and a half
I promise I'll write the full run-down when my eyes stop hurting and I'm not trying to maintain some semblance of good parenting with the kids (suffice to say "Monsters Inc" is my new best friend), but just to give you a brief taste-tester...
Number of famous people rubbed shoulders with: uncountable - pretty much anyone who's on the Aussie comedy scene. You know it's a good party when Dave Callan comes up and clinks glasses with you un-prompted, only to be dragged away into the neighbouring social circle by Rove McManus.
Number of famous people talked to: significantly less - not that they weren't friendly but I was shy.
Number of producers/managers/talent bookers talked to: significantly more (I know, I'm being very vague on my numbers here, but I actually had some really good chats with some very cool and important - if less recognisable - people)
Number of yukky-tasting-but-courage-increasing-champagnes consumed - 3 (at last, some quantifiable research!)
Number of photos taken - 4 (but they were an afterthought and are all of me and Josh outside the party on our way home)
Number of times I said 'surreal' - 58
Number of hours until I write the full update - 8 (but that's assuming I get some sleep between now and then)
Number of coffees needed to survive the next hour - 2 and a half
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
'Comedy Touring with Children' for Dummies Chapter One: Off to a Flying Start
How to sum up a whirlwind day in but a few uncliched sentences? Alas, alack it cannot be done. However, as you and I both know, that will certainly not stop me trying.
1. Waking up after far too little sleep, ready to chuck my carefully (meaning 'over') packed luggage in the car and pick up Tim with plenty of time to drive us to the airport. As I sip my first of many coffees for the day, I wonder whether I've actually left insufficient time for the trip - I glance at the clock. Five minutes past my scheduled departure time and I'm not even out of my pyjamas. Gulp.
2. Missing out on a proper goodbye to Tim when he had to abruptly depart from his helping-Jenny-into-the-airport-check-in-mission in favour of the much more urgent get-to-the-car-before-the-looming-parking-officer-gives-us-a-fine-mission. If I recall correctly our parting words were:
Him: Quick! Take this!
Me: Go! GO!
Ah, romance.
3. Receiving some respite from my octapus-like manouvres (picture pushing a trolley containing luggage, guitar and car-seat while dragging a rollable-yet-enormous suitcase while balancing a nappy bag and purse while holding a one-year-old's hand while coaching a three-year-old to walk alongside) from a kind Qantas dude, who, upon discovering I was a comedian, asked that dreaded question: "have you got any jokes for me?"
Me: "Uh, not really."
Awkward silence.
4. Discovering that air-plane toilets were NEVER designed to have more than one person, let alone three (even if two of them are little) in them at a time. Furthermore, discovering that you should NEVER attempt to put your toddler down on what seems to be a bench-space, as chances are it will be the bathroom sink which is touch-operated and thus will spurt water in a violenty fashion thereby completely saturating his entire outfit.
5. Freaking out yet trying to maintain a fascade of calm in the face of full-on turbulence upon the plane's descent. Contemplating my possibly-impending-demise, and realising that if it hadn't been for having kids in the first place, I would probably never have had the guts to pursue comedy and would not even be on this flight. Grabbing Ella's hand for comfort (mine, not hers) suddenly feeling better and thinking 'damn kid, you make me feel brave.'
6. Realising that turbulence has a very pleasant side-effect: Caleb has been rocked to sleep.
7. Catching up with my beautiful friend Rachel, between lunch, DVDs, pottering and grocery-shopping.
And that's all before the actualy first gig of the tour!
Oh boy, what an amazing start.
I walk into the Comic's Lounge to find (later it strikes me as very apt) two comedians almost asleep on the foyer lounge. I check in, chat a bit with some of the other comics who are on, when out of the blue TimT (www.willtypeforfood.blogspot.com) rocks up and introduces himself. Hooray! Someone I know (if only previously in cyberspace) is actually here in what seems to be the start of a beautiful caffeine-fuelled friendship.
I'm up first after the break and am psyched back-stage and ready to go on until....lo and behold, who walks in but Corinne Grant and Arj Barker? Wow, wow, wow. I try to act all cool and un-starstruck like the rest of them and try to supress saying something idiotic like 'OH MY GAWWWWWD IS IT REALLY YOU??? YOU'RE UP THERE ON MY TOP 5 LIST OF COMICS TO MEET DURING THIS FORTNIGHT, NOT THAT I HAVE A LIST BUT IF I DID YOU'D BE ON IT AND WOULD YOU MIND JUST TOUCHING ME? NOT IN A WEIRD WAY, BUT JUST A LITTLE?'
Thankfully, I opt instead for just introducing myself and chat to Corinne a bit about the Jeez Louise women-in-comedy conference coming up and wish her luck for her set, which she's testing out tonight before the Comedy Gala tomorrow, as is Arj. It's decided that they will open the second set, meaning that the order is now:
Corinne Grant
Arj Barker
Jenny Wynter
This is probably the first and last time this will ever, ever happen - I try to indulge myself by pretending that I'm the headliner for the evening (at least the next 15 minutes of it) and am being supported by Corinne and Arj, but it doesn't work. I freak, especially given that not an hour before, I heard a comic saying how Arj had done a ten minute set the night before and rocked the audience beyond belief...meaning death for the comedian after him. "Oh no!" I say (and yes, that's out loud) "I don't want to go after ARJ!"
"Hey, it's cool," Arj reassures me in his very lovely, sweet and laid-back lovely American way, "I'm just playin around, you'll be cool."
And for a moment, I actually believe him. After all, he is TALKING TO ME IN PERSON!!!!!!!!!!!
Not that I'm star-struck. No way man.
So they go on and they're awesome - as one would expect. Next? My turn.
It's a small crowd and I don't think they know what's hit them when I belt out 'One Night' - but it seems to go okay and I can actually hear Corinne laughing through my set (though I'm shit-scared throughout it as I am just so excited and in disbelief that they've actually hung round to watch). After I come off-stage they both grab me (literally) and touch me and say 'that was great!!!!' and I feel like I'm going to turn into a piece of hubba-bubba bubble-gum. I want to sit and chat and hang with them and 'be cool' and all that, but the next comic's on and I also want to just sit down in my spot and commence my descent. Turbulence-free. Oh and drink my beer. Besides, I can talk to them later, right?
They stay for one more comedian and then leave...I realise that I was SOOO LUCKY to have had my set on right then and there. While I'm I'm bummed about not getting to chat more with them post-gig, I take comfort in knowing that now I have the perfect excuse to go say hello another time. I know what you're thinking: 'yeah right, Jen, and when are you going to get another time to chat to Corinne and Arj?' Well, ask no more my friend because as of today I have in my hot little (metaphorical) hands:
One ticket to the very exclusive Comedy Festival Gala After-Party!!!
Yes, that's right people, I can hardly believe it myself, but my glorious mate and last year's Raw winner Josh Thomas is giving me his guest pass, meaning that tomorrow night, (actually it's technically tonight) I will be rubbing shoulders with the best comics in Australia in full ladidah fashion - Josh, did I ever tell you you're my hero?!!
I cannot wait - oh my goodness. This trip is already worth it. The only problem is the party's meant to be formal, and while I've got SOME dressy stuff in my luggage, it's not really THAT dressy. But luckily for me my friend/accommodation provider/babysitter is also happy to add 'stylist' to the list. I'll try to get my hands on a camera for tomorrow night so I can complete the whole bloggy picture for you.
But I digress (as usual). After the gig I was buzz, buzz, buzz and so what better way to deal with it than to continue buzzing with more coffee on Lygon Street with TimT. It was so cool to meet someone in person who I'd always suspected I would get along with, but in cyber-space, no-one can hear you scream. Hang on, sorry, that's not what I was going to say. I guess on the internet you never can tell, that's all I mean. We chatted and chatted and could have even chatted more had it not been for my dreaded thoughts of getting up early with the kids. The bummer being of course, that as soon as I got home the caffeine really kicked in along with my desire to share the day's events and here I am at 3.24am typing this to you.
Which reminds me: I need to go to bed now. Seriously. But the bottom line: whether it's a career break or just a complete nervous break-down, one thing's for sure - by the end of this trip, there's gonna be some sort of break. A dubious note to end on, but hey, I'm sleep-deprived and excited all in one, so hey, gimme a break. Oops, I did it again.
1. Waking up after far too little sleep, ready to chuck my carefully (meaning 'over') packed luggage in the car and pick up Tim with plenty of time to drive us to the airport. As I sip my first of many coffees for the day, I wonder whether I've actually left insufficient time for the trip - I glance at the clock. Five minutes past my scheduled departure time and I'm not even out of my pyjamas. Gulp.
2. Missing out on a proper goodbye to Tim when he had to abruptly depart from his helping-Jenny-into-the-airport-check-in-mission in favour of the much more urgent get-to-the-car-before-the-looming-parking-officer-gives-us-a-fine-mission. If I recall correctly our parting words were:
Him: Quick! Take this!
Me: Go! GO!
Ah, romance.
3. Receiving some respite from my octapus-like manouvres (picture pushing a trolley containing luggage, guitar and car-seat while dragging a rollable-yet-enormous suitcase while balancing a nappy bag and purse while holding a one-year-old's hand while coaching a three-year-old to walk alongside) from a kind Qantas dude, who, upon discovering I was a comedian, asked that dreaded question: "have you got any jokes for me?"
Me: "Uh, not really."
Awkward silence.
4. Discovering that air-plane toilets were NEVER designed to have more than one person, let alone three (even if two of them are little) in them at a time. Furthermore, discovering that you should NEVER attempt to put your toddler down on what seems to be a bench-space, as chances are it will be the bathroom sink which is touch-operated and thus will spurt water in a violenty fashion thereby completely saturating his entire outfit.
5. Freaking out yet trying to maintain a fascade of calm in the face of full-on turbulence upon the plane's descent. Contemplating my possibly-impending-demise, and realising that if it hadn't been for having kids in the first place, I would probably never have had the guts to pursue comedy and would not even be on this flight. Grabbing Ella's hand for comfort (mine, not hers) suddenly feeling better and thinking 'damn kid, you make me feel brave.'
6. Realising that turbulence has a very pleasant side-effect: Caleb has been rocked to sleep.
7. Catching up with my beautiful friend Rachel, between lunch, DVDs, pottering and grocery-shopping.
And that's all before the actualy first gig of the tour!
Oh boy, what an amazing start.
I walk into the Comic's Lounge to find (later it strikes me as very apt) two comedians almost asleep on the foyer lounge. I check in, chat a bit with some of the other comics who are on, when out of the blue TimT (www.willtypeforfood.blogspot.com) rocks up and introduces himself. Hooray! Someone I know (if only previously in cyberspace) is actually here in what seems to be the start of a beautiful caffeine-fuelled friendship.
I'm up first after the break and am psyched back-stage and ready to go on until....lo and behold, who walks in but Corinne Grant and Arj Barker? Wow, wow, wow. I try to act all cool and un-starstruck like the rest of them and try to supress saying something idiotic like 'OH MY GAWWWWWD IS IT REALLY YOU??? YOU'RE UP THERE ON MY TOP 5 LIST OF COMICS TO MEET DURING THIS FORTNIGHT, NOT THAT I HAVE A LIST BUT IF I DID YOU'D BE ON IT AND WOULD YOU MIND JUST TOUCHING ME? NOT IN A WEIRD WAY, BUT JUST A LITTLE?'
Thankfully, I opt instead for just introducing myself and chat to Corinne a bit about the Jeez Louise women-in-comedy conference coming up and wish her luck for her set, which she's testing out tonight before the Comedy Gala tomorrow, as is Arj. It's decided that they will open the second set, meaning that the order is now:
Corinne Grant
Arj Barker
Jenny Wynter
This is probably the first and last time this will ever, ever happen - I try to indulge myself by pretending that I'm the headliner for the evening (at least the next 15 minutes of it) and am being supported by Corinne and Arj, but it doesn't work. I freak, especially given that not an hour before, I heard a comic saying how Arj had done a ten minute set the night before and rocked the audience beyond belief...meaning death for the comedian after him. "Oh no!" I say (and yes, that's out loud) "I don't want to go after ARJ!"
"Hey, it's cool," Arj reassures me in his very lovely, sweet and laid-back lovely American way, "I'm just playin around, you'll be cool."
And for a moment, I actually believe him. After all, he is TALKING TO ME IN PERSON!!!!!!!!!!!
Not that I'm star-struck. No way man.
So they go on and they're awesome - as one would expect. Next? My turn.
It's a small crowd and I don't think they know what's hit them when I belt out 'One Night' - but it seems to go okay and I can actually hear Corinne laughing through my set (though I'm shit-scared throughout it as I am just so excited and in disbelief that they've actually hung round to watch). After I come off-stage they both grab me (literally) and touch me and say 'that was great!!!!' and I feel like I'm going to turn into a piece of hubba-bubba bubble-gum. I want to sit and chat and hang with them and 'be cool' and all that, but the next comic's on and I also want to just sit down in my spot and commence my descent. Turbulence-free. Oh and drink my beer. Besides, I can talk to them later, right?
They stay for one more comedian and then leave...I realise that I was SOOO LUCKY to have had my set on right then and there. While I'm I'm bummed about not getting to chat more with them post-gig, I take comfort in knowing that now I have the perfect excuse to go say hello another time. I know what you're thinking: 'yeah right, Jen, and when are you going to get another time to chat to Corinne and Arj?' Well, ask no more my friend because as of today I have in my hot little (metaphorical) hands:
One ticket to the very exclusive Comedy Festival Gala After-Party!!!
Yes, that's right people, I can hardly believe it myself, but my glorious mate and last year's Raw winner Josh Thomas is giving me his guest pass, meaning that tomorrow night, (actually it's technically tonight) I will be rubbing shoulders with the best comics in Australia in full ladidah fashion - Josh, did I ever tell you you're my hero?!!
I cannot wait - oh my goodness. This trip is already worth it. The only problem is the party's meant to be formal, and while I've got SOME dressy stuff in my luggage, it's not really THAT dressy. But luckily for me my friend/accommodation provider/babysitter is also happy to add 'stylist' to the list. I'll try to get my hands on a camera for tomorrow night so I can complete the whole bloggy picture for you.
But I digress (as usual). After the gig I was buzz, buzz, buzz and so what better way to deal with it than to continue buzzing with more coffee on Lygon Street with TimT. It was so cool to meet someone in person who I'd always suspected I would get along with, but in cyber-space, no-one can hear you scream. Hang on, sorry, that's not what I was going to say. I guess on the internet you never can tell, that's all I mean. We chatted and chatted and could have even chatted more had it not been for my dreaded thoughts of getting up early with the kids. The bummer being of course, that as soon as I got home the caffeine really kicked in along with my desire to share the day's events and here I am at 3.24am typing this to you.
Which reminds me: I need to go to bed now. Seriously. But the bottom line: whether it's a career break or just a complete nervous break-down, one thing's for sure - by the end of this trip, there's gonna be some sort of break. A dubious note to end on, but hey, I'm sleep-deprived and excited all in one, so hey, gimme a break. Oops, I did it again.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Here we go!
At the risk of sounding like an American teeny-bopper, I am SOOOO looking forward this trip!!! Easy on the exclamation marks there tiger...
But in seriousness, I am. I actually started packing today which, if you have the dubious pleasure of being a Jenny-blog regular, will be savvy and sophisticated and pick-your-preferred-adjective-of-flattery enough to realise that yes, that meant sorting through my den full of dirty laundry. I'm still recovering.
On the plus-side though, having some stuff packed makes me feel like it's all beginning to happen! Which is so so cool, as only a couple of months back the thought of organising gigs during the Comedy Festival was jus that...a mere thought. But as of 10.50 on the coming Tuesday morn, it will be a reality.
Now contrary to what you might think (as I know you spend every waking minute thinking as much about me as I do), I'm actually not all that happy all the time. In fact, the last few weeks I've been feeling especially down in the dumps about the whole career thing, just questioning whether what I'm doing is worth it, whether I will make it to where I want to be, etc. Now, I know such thoughts are perfectly natural and usually I'm pretty good at just pep-talking myself out of them. But one of the lower ebbs of my existence a couple of weeks back happened to coincide with catching up with a good old friend of mine - a former film tutor who's done really well making a living out as a documentary maker. But on this particular day, she was feeling really disillusioned about the entire industry.
I won't divulge her entire history here, but one particular point of the conversation haunted me...
Me: Sometimes I just wonder, 'when is it going to happen?' You know, like when do you actually get noticed?
Her: I don't think you do.
Me: (gulp)
Dramatic pause.
Not that there was a dramatic pause in the conversation, I'm just adding it there in the hope that you get the full impact of that sentiment. It completely freaked me out, because I've always operated under the assumption that if I keep doing my thing, just keep persisting at it and believe in myself, that eventually it will happen. (Whatever 'it' is, but that's an entirely different blog entry). Yeah, so this was the first time I'd ever come face-to-face with the idea that it mightn't happen.
Which is weird, because one of the ideas my film project-in-progress "Cinema a la Hitchhiker" deals with is 'when is it time to give up on a dream?' So the thought has not only occurred to me before but is fascinating enough for me to want to address in a film script, however I'd just never really contemplated that possibility for myself. I don't mean that to sound as arrogant as I think it might; my point is more that if I've had nothing else going for me, I've always had self-belief. But lately that's been self-doubt.
Which, as my hubby pointed out, is quite ridiculous given lots of cool things that have been happening lately. But I'm a perfectionist. And I'm completely impatient with life. Two combos which don't make a happy meal, if you get my drift.
Anyway, I'm just crapping on now and in danger of acting like a lullaby to you, dear reader. I'm sure I had a point...oh yeah. So I was feeling a little apprehensive approaching the trip, but then last night had a really cool gig at Corndale (about half an hour out of Byron Bay) - imagine a little yellow hall in the middle of a big green paddock with over two hundred cheery locals - in that environment it's very hard to go wrong.
But the best part was afterwards - the headlining comedian came up to me and gave me such awesome affirmation. I won't regurgitate it all but what really hit me was this: "I'm giving you the same advice I gave Kitty (Flanagan), Julia (Morris) and Sarah (Kendall): don't let them rush you. Don't be in a hurry. If you're not ready to do the 40 minute gigs yet, don't do them. And the money will be good. But even if it's a $5000 gig, if you're not ready for it, don't do it. Just go at your own pace."
Now that's a concept. I've been hell-bent trying to SPEED UP my progress lately, and as for the notion of turning down a $5,000 gig? I wanted to say 'honey, my hubby's a student: five grand is like half our yearly income!!' (Again, a whole other blog entry righ there). But somehow having him talk to me like that, having HIM believe in me, just gave me such a sense of calm about the whole comedy thing that I've really been lacking. Just to trust that it'll happen in its own good time and there's really no point in freaking out about it.
So I'm now looking at the tour with a newfound sense of excited calm. Excited about the possibilities and calm about the possibilities. Most of all, I want to have fun. And to enjoy the kids. And to not be too cold.
I'll be madly packing/organising tomorrow, so I daresay my next blog entry will be straight from the road (or more accurately, my lovely friend Rachel's house in funky-town Yarraville.)
So stay cool, stay awake (hell, you made it this far through the waffle of this blog post so you're doing well) and stay tuned!
But in seriousness, I am. I actually started packing today which, if you have the dubious pleasure of being a Jenny-blog regular, will be savvy and sophisticated and pick-your-preferred-adjective-of-flattery enough to realise that yes, that meant sorting through my den full of dirty laundry. I'm still recovering.
On the plus-side though, having some stuff packed makes me feel like it's all beginning to happen! Which is so so cool, as only a couple of months back the thought of organising gigs during the Comedy Festival was jus that...a mere thought. But as of 10.50 on the coming Tuesday morn, it will be a reality.
Now contrary to what you might think (as I know you spend every waking minute thinking as much about me as I do), I'm actually not all that happy all the time. In fact, the last few weeks I've been feeling especially down in the dumps about the whole career thing, just questioning whether what I'm doing is worth it, whether I will make it to where I want to be, etc. Now, I know such thoughts are perfectly natural and usually I'm pretty good at just pep-talking myself out of them. But one of the lower ebbs of my existence a couple of weeks back happened to coincide with catching up with a good old friend of mine - a former film tutor who's done really well making a living out as a documentary maker. But on this particular day, she was feeling really disillusioned about the entire industry.
I won't divulge her entire history here, but one particular point of the conversation haunted me...
Me: Sometimes I just wonder, 'when is it going to happen?' You know, like when do you actually get noticed?
Her: I don't think you do.
Me: (gulp)
Dramatic pause.
Not that there was a dramatic pause in the conversation, I'm just adding it there in the hope that you get the full impact of that sentiment. It completely freaked me out, because I've always operated under the assumption that if I keep doing my thing, just keep persisting at it and believe in myself, that eventually it will happen. (Whatever 'it' is, but that's an entirely different blog entry). Yeah, so this was the first time I'd ever come face-to-face with the idea that it mightn't happen.
Which is weird, because one of the ideas my film project-in-progress "Cinema a la Hitchhiker" deals with is 'when is it time to give up on a dream?' So the thought has not only occurred to me before but is fascinating enough for me to want to address in a film script, however I'd just never really contemplated that possibility for myself. I don't mean that to sound as arrogant as I think it might; my point is more that if I've had nothing else going for me, I've always had self-belief. But lately that's been self-doubt.
Which, as my hubby pointed out, is quite ridiculous given lots of cool things that have been happening lately. But I'm a perfectionist. And I'm completely impatient with life. Two combos which don't make a happy meal, if you get my drift.
Anyway, I'm just crapping on now and in danger of acting like a lullaby to you, dear reader. I'm sure I had a point...oh yeah. So I was feeling a little apprehensive approaching the trip, but then last night had a really cool gig at Corndale (about half an hour out of Byron Bay) - imagine a little yellow hall in the middle of a big green paddock with over two hundred cheery locals - in that environment it's very hard to go wrong.
But the best part was afterwards - the headlining comedian came up to me and gave me such awesome affirmation. I won't regurgitate it all but what really hit me was this: "I'm giving you the same advice I gave Kitty (Flanagan), Julia (Morris) and Sarah (Kendall): don't let them rush you. Don't be in a hurry. If you're not ready to do the 40 minute gigs yet, don't do them. And the money will be good. But even if it's a $5000 gig, if you're not ready for it, don't do it. Just go at your own pace."
Now that's a concept. I've been hell-bent trying to SPEED UP my progress lately, and as for the notion of turning down a $5,000 gig? I wanted to say 'honey, my hubby's a student: five grand is like half our yearly income!!' (Again, a whole other blog entry righ there). But somehow having him talk to me like that, having HIM believe in me, just gave me such a sense of calm about the whole comedy thing that I've really been lacking. Just to trust that it'll happen in its own good time and there's really no point in freaking out about it.
So I'm now looking at the tour with a newfound sense of excited calm. Excited about the possibilities and calm about the possibilities. Most of all, I want to have fun. And to enjoy the kids. And to not be too cold.
I'll be madly packing/organising tomorrow, so I daresay my next blog entry will be straight from the road (or more accurately, my lovely friend Rachel's house in funky-town Yarraville.)
So stay cool, stay awake (hell, you made it this far through the waffle of this blog post so you're doing well) and stay tuned!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Raw Finals rock but not as much as my mates!
Woohoo! That's my favourite word and in case you didn't realise it is SOOOO hot right now. So get into it. Woohoo.
Just like my daughter...oh boy. I'm quickly becoming one of these people who nauseates others by force-feeding them family photos. *shudder*
Oh well, it could be worse. I could be force-feeding you my cooking.
Yah, so the Raw Finals were on last night, they kicked hairy buttocks (that's my favourite phrase and in case you didn't realise it is SOOOO hot right now. But don't get into it. That would just be weird) and I'm delighted to inform you that I was offered the position of Runner-Up. The money's crap, the benefits are negligible but the title sounds cool. I took it.
Anyway, I'm not going to waste any more time on the details: you can read more at my website here: www.jennywynter.com
Let's just move along then, shall we?
What really rocks the kazbah is how many beautiful words of encouragement, support and sentiments of general all-round loveliness I've gotten from people in my life in response to the Raw stuff. Seeing as none of said people seem to have worked out how to use the comments section of my blog, I thought I'd just post some of them direct. Now if that ain't service with a smile, then I don't know what is.
Rachel Barnes: Rock on! You're doing it girl!
Karen White: You rocked the house down last night girl. The crowd screamed and screamed - A-class and far far more audience connection than any other act. Get in there and suck down that mic lady - the world wants to know you and the stuff you wanna tell them.
Alex Oliver: Your awesome Jen! Second place! Brilliant! Congratulations!
!!!!!,!!!!!.
David Fowles: Congratulations on getting a placement! Remember that coming first in the competition is always death for Austalian Idol contestants!
Ashley Gill: Yeehar sister, you rock.
What can I say?
I WUV YOU GUYS!!!!!!
That is my favourite affirmation and in case you didn't realise it is SOOO hot right now. Get into it.
I mean that.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Pearls of Scottish wisdom from a funny (partly) bearded man
One of the down-sides of not having a hooked up television is that you do miss out on stuff you might actually like to see. A rare occurence, but it does happen. The Billy Connolly interview on Enough Rope being a prime example. So, weeks later, here I am, unable to sleep due to post-gig buzz and thus resorting to my typical midnight internet romp when I've stumbled across said interview transcript. Hooray!(It was even better when I spoke it out loud in a Scottish accent. Yes, I know, I'm lame. Let's move along.)
Anyway, before I finally head to bed I thought I'd share a few highlights:
On taking risks:
It's dangerous but don't you find if you do dangerous things good things happen? At certain times in your life you really have to stick your neck out and do things. You know just slightly different from what you've been doing or radically different. But if you want things to change you just have to take, you have to gamble in some way.
On finding your path:
The number of people I've met who are doing things they don't like and it's making them really, you know... The number of guys I knew when I worked on the Clyde who hated their job, didn't like their wife that much and didn't like the place where they lived. And I thought, how can you do this every day? But you would be astonished at the number of people who do that, every day of their lives. And, the whole trick is, I would say to my children when you're going along the road and you're at the library or wherever you are, watch what you're drawn to. Watch the type of shops, the windows you always hang out at. Just listen to yourself and see what you're being drawn to and don't choose a career. You know let it happen to you. It'll choose you.
And finally, just cos this is particularly pertinent to my life at the moment....
On Relationships:
I think healthy relationships are like language. If they're not in a constant state of change they die. You know there's, if you just let it become beige it's over. You know if you can't speak to one another, if you're not friends it's finished. You can, you can have as much sex as you like and as many things as you please and as nice a house and, and happy nice children but it's over, it's pretty much over if you don't, if you're not in a constant stage of change.
Full interview at www.abc.net.au/enoughrope
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