Laugh Clown Laugh

I'm sure my readership is wondering what's happened to my comedy writing career. Have I changed my mind yet again and decided to become a poet? No, but there seems to be little to say about comedy writing. I reached one of those weird plateaus that come after you complete something and nothing happens. You vaguely feel something should happen before you hunker down to write something else. Slowly it dawns on you you can't wait for anything to happen, you just have to write some more. It seems unfair and you struggle. "I can't write more. I already wrote. What about the payoff? Doesn't it ever happen?"

No.

I'm finding it very deadening to be an unsuccessful artist with a mind-numbing day job. Above all it's boring. Doors don't open so you sit at home. You have no access to the many worlds of lively conversation that people enter when they stop being marginal. Being marginal, you can't afford anything but margarine. You sit at home and eat margarine.

The mind searches for a way out. All the ways out cost money. So you go back to your ideas. There's a bit of life there. I'm making a short experimental film today with a friend who trained as an actor and is sharp and funny. Someone like her would probably only live in New York. I met her at my deadening day job. So you see, there is a little, tiny payoff, sometimes.