(Rated TV-MA!)
Owwchies.
I ate it so hard tonight… undeniable shit show tonight.
I don’t know what happened, except maybe that I wasn’t balanced, if you understand.
Twice now my instincts told me not to go up, and I did it anyway, and twice I went down in flames.
Hey, fun fact, I am a solid performer, but I am not someone who has access to all of “It” anytime I “want to”.
What I mean is that just because I can do many things it doesn’t mean that I can channel it all whenever I like.
Today I sang something and said, “Oh I sound great.” Which never happens, I should’ve been warned.
Speaking is the one that is easiest to do; not tonight it wasn’t. One of the only laughs I got was from humming. It was a terror burp, I was pulling up nothing.
So, I am up there, I make a joke I didn’t want anyone to laugh at, they all did.
I said, “Insurrectionists, make some no-o-o-ise” and they all did. I was hoping for nothing, it was a test. It was a test.
I had them for about three jokes, about 30 seconds, and lost them.
I kept going, trying to be as real as possible, as that is the best stuff for me.
I went dark immediately…and they did not like it.
Things that affected my performance-
My bowels are affected by anxiety and on show day its always terrible.
Thank you. Today was parshitularly bad. I thought it was a fart, it wasn’t a fart.
Moving on. I spent the whole night thinking I was going to terror-blast-shit. all night.
I hated my outfit. I looked good last time. I opted out of repeating outfits. I have sworn a blood curse upon those low-rise jeans. I wore my old, safety outfit. It was bland, even by my standards. I CANNOT GO ON STAGE LOOKING LIKE SHIT. I can’t. I hate shopping! I HATE SHOPING FOR CLOTHES! LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. TOMORROW! Fuck that hurt.
They were ready to go with me, too, and I just fucking missed it. Last time, it was due to being intoxicated, this time it was due to being sober. It makes sense and it doesn’t make sense.
It was terrible, it was fucking terrible.
Something happened where the things I described were no longer funny to me. They were, but only in the darkest way and no one felt what I was saying.
I tried to retreat into my anger, but since my anxiety was jacked to hell it came out real AND, NO ONE GOT THE JOKE.
I said some super dark, real shit up there and usually it scores- NOTHING. Because I couldn’t get my mind right.
I felt it beforehand but there’s nothing you can do about it.
I got a lot of shit from the audience, and I tried to play back, but, no one got it (and it wasn’t great anyway).
Pretty much told them to shut the fuck up while I was talking.
I thought I’d get them back with the dark marriage joke but they didn’t think that was funny. Not being mean, there were no couples by then.
OH.
Some mean queen with blonde hair practically sat in my husband’s lap throwing something away-AND THEN LEFT BEFORE I COULD USE IT ON STAGE! Him leaving might have made me the maddest, I knew I could use that to be better and the son of a bitch left me standing there. I wanted to make his hateful ass laugh and then ignore him, but whatever.
EVERYONE LEFT!!
I HATE IT!
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!
WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?
So, right before I went on, two tables full of people left.
Wap! Gone! 8 people. 8 people… 8 people left.
And I started getting shit from the balcony.
NO PEOPLE DOWNSTAIRS AND A PACKED BALCONY IS FUCKED. JUST SO, YOU KNOW.
I couldn’t see them, they ALL tried to get at me at once.
It was terrible.
I have some devastatingly hilarious footage of my Husband reenacting the crash.
It was so bad. No grace. Absolutely none. At first, we were bantering then it became heckling I tried shut it down and none of it was working, I couldn’t get it together and that is just how it was.
The problem at that point was I was trying to be funny.
The whole thing was supposed to be funny and none of it was.
No one was even there, you’d think it would be easier, it was not. I had nothing. I know it’s there but it’s like it might as well not be there.
You learn nothing from success, that thought occurred to me earlier today.
It was a bad day.
I’m not going to feel better until I win. That is the truth. It is fucked up for me. Excuse my language- Balance is a Motherfucker.
None of this will keep me from going back, I am so aggravated.
Damn that was terrible.
I can’t perform without an audience. The only time I can call it up is for an audience, and when I can’t do that I am lost. And I cannot switch gears and say, BE FUNNY IN A MUSICAL WAY, BITCH!!!, nothing.
If I let my anxiety go unchecked, it is as dangerous as being drunk.
Fuck me. He is hopeless. Fantastic.
There was no reason, sometimes the stress overcomes me. I know I need more practice. I did everything I could to ensure my success with my superstitious ass and none of it saved me. My nerves are a real thing, usually I can drive them just above where they are fueling my ride, and then sometimes I cannot get on my surfboard, and it turns into whitewater rafting, and you just keep your nose and toes up and hope.
You’d think I’d take comfort in the fact that I am talented, unfortunately, that is not who I am.
Worst night, so far, at least the last time failing is blurry because of the BOOZE,
I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT.
Oh MY GOD, I forgot that right before I went on stage, I didn’t properly lock the bathroom door and some person just came in when I was in there. OOPS!
RIGHT BEFORE!
I AM DONE WITH TODAY.
If you’re out there being what you are, don’t stop. Bombing sucks, you’ll be alright.
For reference I felt like I did the best I ever did last time.
You’ll win again.
Me? I’m going to eat this coffee ice cream and zone out to some Xena Warrior Princess.
Second season?
Probably Ten Little Warlords
Goodnight.
Audio Edition-
I prefer the Success Insomnia, I do not like this.
Chantarctica 