But this time i'm taking the introduction to comedy writing at the Second City Training Center. I'll be heading into town in a few to see what the deal is on finding the place. That's not so true. I found the place my first night in town, now i just have to recreate that special moment of going there, only this time to actually see what it means when those people want to teach me something.
There's been some homesickness, some missing friends and family, some missing kitties, but for the most part i'm begining to adjust. I'm still writing all of my stories and notes and though i have yet to be on a stage again, it won't be long till i get my shot. Though i do want to watch a bit before throwing my hat into the ring, laying down the gauntlet, beating the dead cliche so to speak.
I read a book, "off magazine street" about 2 alcoholic english professors in new orleans raising a 17 year old girl while trying to get into her pants. It was made into a move called "a love song for bobby long" with john travolta. I highly reccomend both. funny/moving/cringe worthy experiences and the two works are significantly different enough to merit all that shit bla bla
this weekend i spent with my cousin who lives in chicago.
sleeping in an easy chair at my cousin's apt in chicago with his cat jeff on my head i'm having a memory of something that may or may not be a dream. I remember that he and his brother have a job working as couriers for the CIA delivering top secret information and hand held nuclear devices. the cat is chewing on my hand and i'm thinking, "if this shit is real, i'm totally using it in my act."
Later that morning as we are going to catch the bus to go to his work i ask him "do you deliver packages for the CIA?"
he says, "not anymore, But i did for the Manhattan Project back in the 40's."
I hung out at his Job for a while, getting to know his co-workers and chatting with his boss about the possibility of me getting employment and then started walking around randomly in chicago. It's all a big grid so it's pretty easy not to get lost. I bumped into wrigly field and got free tickets to the improv olympics.
The previous night My cuz was bouncing at a local yuppie bar and i was tagging along, mostly hanging out with him and the other bouncer in the little cul de sac before you go inside where they check the id's. There's a little gas space heater and near the end of the night one of the waitresses came out wearing a little fru fru tu tu and asked if she could stand next to the heater.
Seconds later she was on fire and i was slapping her in the ass trying to put it out. Soon we dropped and rolled her butt and everything was ok. I lauged very hard and kept repeating "that was the really realest real."
I was a Leetle bit inebrieated at that point.
My goal for this week will be to complete my resume, gaurnteed to be a master piece in creative writing.
