Tag Archives: Dublin

Sans Miguel

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Being honest, now and again, I perhaps can be a bit (very) superstitious, paranoid, neurotic, estúpido, whatever you might want to call it. Nothing dumb like walking under a ladder, or a black cat running across me. That’s just dumb. My peculiarities are far more intelligent. Obviously.

For example, if I have a bad thought about something that might potentially happen in the future, I have to tap my head. Then some wood. Then my tongue. And finally my head one last time. Ha, only joking, obviously… Stupid stuff like having to play the same song first, on a playlist on my iTunes, wreck my head on a constant basis. They’re just two that happened while writing this paragraph. I have no clue at all why I even do half the stuff anymore, but in my head, if I don’t do them, I am tempting fate. Good laugh. So, with that in mind, I will just say that it has been a good week in Dubla. A productive week. Progress being made on this side of the world too. Big weeks. And baby steps. My new horrendous saying.

Moving swiftly on, my Irish stand-up debut in Dublin last Thursday was pretty funny. Maybe not so much my act, but the whole night in general. The MC could not have known that the crowd there was at least half made up of Cork folk. So, when he decided to try and mock one Cork person, only to be heckled, burnt and ridiculed back, over and over by different Cork “langers” in the crowd, it started the night off on a good note.

However, the first guy up, a dude playing a guitar and singing humorous songs related to his STD’s, did not help. At all. Purely because he was fairly good. As in actually funny. Something I was not hoping for. Setting the standard. Thankfully, the second guy up had severe anger issues. After watching the other acts in L.A, I quickly learned that alienating/abusing the crowd as a whole, is not a great route to take. From my point of view, it worked nicely. He did well freaking the crowd out enough that they would laugh at any old dope up next, as long as he wasn’t screaming at them. Happily, this was my cue. 

Since my mighty performance, feedback has been split roughly – actually, I would say exactly – down the middle. Between my buddies, and randomers afterwards coming up throughout the night, the feedback has been in two camps… “I liked it, but I thought the parts where you had banter and mocked the crowd were better, do more of that. It was good though, I was surprised” … “Funny enough, but you should stick to your routine more, keep to your own jokes. You kind of did too much stuff with the crowd. Well done though”. Seriously, it has been right down the middle. So, only fair thing to do is take bits from each feedback, and say it was a roaring success! The cherry has been popped.

Cold light of day, I need to ramble less, have more of an act (which I’ve figured out, wuu) and ensure that an angry, psychotic, weird little guy is on just before me. I might ask him if he wants to start a double act. Just one where we’re never on the same stage at the same time. Should go well. And, if anyone is wondering, by far the last guy up was the funniest. Hilarious older guy, who slaughtered two English dudes in the front row. Who were actually Australian, but nobody cared at the time. 

One good thing to almost come out of the stand-up, was the issue I have with Dublin. However, unfortunately, she was not my type. Still though, an interesting light was shone on the performance angle. Not that it made a difference. I think the ratio in Dublin is off kilter (what a brutal excuse!)

One last thing that I found funny on the night, is of how many people love asking me… “How much do you make for all this?” For all what? “All this, the stand-up, the DJ stuff, the blog, how much do you make?” Ha, how much do you make? “Ah thats different, I just want to know how much you make” Which is just a dumb conversation I had a few times that night. However, I will now divulge how much I did make for the stand-up gig.

Just as the night was finishing up, news was breaking that Michael Jackson has just died. Around this time, the organizer of the night came up to me, thanks for doing it and all that, here’s the money, and slipped it into my hand. Then, he quickly scurried off. I was finding out if the news about his death was true, so didn’t even check the wad for a few minutes. When I did, I started to laugh. €20. Wuu! No wonder he ran off so fast. That is going in my next act, some funking joke.

The blog has been in hiatus for a few days. Still though, song of the day will have to be a tribute to Michael Jackson. Fair enough he might not have been a saint or anything, but, for me, definitely the greatest entertainer ever. And this song showed he could still produce gems!

Michael Jackson

 You Rock My World

Lack Of Action

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I shall not lie, I have never really gotten on well with Dublin. Or in, to be exact. Probably not for reasons which other people may have either. Proper city, multi-cultured, variety, more than a handful of clubs and pubs, all of that stuff that you would expect from a big city. However, something always bugged me about Dublin. And, being honest, I know exactly why. It is the home of my kryptonite. I never have any joy here. At all. If you know what I mean. Obviously there are plenty of reasons why this might occur, but anywhere else in the world, these factors do not seem to all converge together at once. Whatever it may be, no matter how hard I try, I just never clicked with Dublin, in that sense. 

Worst part of all, is that the talent up here is pretty good. In fact, today for example, it was fairly savage. Once again though, I got a sign that the lack of action streak would continue for me up here. While walking down Grafton Street, I was trying to multi-task. Phone and bottle of water in one hand. A banana, apple and iPod in my other hand. (Wallet, tic-tacs and notepad in my pockets, so I was weighed down). Trying to eating a second full banana, hands free, so it was sticking out of my mouth. And all the time, trying to get through the busy street towards Temple Bar, while admiring the hot women that were window shopping. It was a lot of multi-tasking. Which I managed to do well. Until I walked into one of the waist high poles that are along the street.

Seeing as, obviously, I never saw the pole, I was fairly surprised at why there was a sudden, sharp, sickening pain coming from my groin area. I thought somebody had kicked me in the rucksack. And left their foot there. My first reaction was to give an inquisitive… Awww?…  which, in turn, forced the full banana to pop out of my mouth, and onto the ground. Trying to grab the banana, I almost sent my iPod flying which made me grab out and fling an apple across the street. Kindly, an old lady picked up the now  3/4’s left banana off the gorund, and handed it back to me. Which I had to throw into the bin, not being a fan of dirt. And I think she took that as insulting, somehow.  

The whole affair was slapstick, brutal and dumb as funk. Two girls who were window shopping next to me, just stood there and gave me a pitiful look. I think they might have thought I was actually remedial in some way. Not far off, perhaps. I was in too much pain to try and pretend to be cool, walk it off, so I just told them… I’m cool girls, come on, I swear, I am coool, give me another chance! Too late. Once again, trying too hard. That all too familiar sign, which I always get in Dublin. Not going to happen buddy. The pole in the groin is the most action I will be getting up here.

Not to worry though, progress being made on other fronts. Managed to get around to a load of different places today, network on, my level of information and knowledge is growing more and more. Plus, a meeting has been arranged in RTE for this Friday, happy days. And, also, last night I got good news about visa options. I know have two routes available to me. Depends on a few factors, but looking promising. To an extent.

One area, where I might not be as ready as I thought I might have been, is for my stand-up gig tomorrow night. Being honest, I thought I’d get 7 minutes together fairly quickly, an hour or two. Bob hope. I can talk away for 7 minutes fine. It is just not 7 minutes of laughter. In fact, from what I have tried out so far on my able guinea pig (go on the Rink) I do not think I even got 7 laughs. Or half laughs. The best, so far, has been, “Yeah, that might be good. Just don’t use it in the stand-up.” My best joke didn’t even get a half laugh! I am goosed.

Now that I think about it though, he could be wrong. Actually, he is definitely wrong. The blame for the lack of laughter, like the lack of action, is obviously not down to the quality of jokes. Or myself. It is blatantly the people I am wasting these golden lines on. Just not cool or clever enough to get them, I suppose. Obviously. (Worst part of all this is, I am thinking of using that tomorrow night. Oh sweet Jesus).

Song of the day…

Knotty Pine

Knotty Pine - Dirty Projectors & David Byrne