It’s been a while since I wrote a blog. Not because I had other shit to do, or I’ve been too busy. It’s just that with every blog that I wrote, my chances of getting laid were going down. Although not writing a blog for a while didn’t help either. But I feel good in my head. I’ve eliminated the major possibility. It’s like my placebo.
So I’ve been doing open mics for a while now. 10 months. It’s been fun. But apart from the jokes that I say on stage, there are certain things that happen on and off stage that fascinate me. Now to me, it is very funny. So I thought I’ll start blogging about those things.
Now, why can’t I write it in a diary? Because it is not fucken 1945! Any person you meet in this day and age who writes in a diary is a fucken psychopath. There is no way a sane man writes weird stuff about his day in a diary now. Because these days we write a lot of it in a book. Facebook.
Moving on!
I figured I’ll blog about it because as of now, my blog is as good as being private. No body could give enough of fuck to read it. And I say ‘as of now’ because in my head, I’m the hero of my own film. So that means some day there will be readers here and I’ll have a proper blog following.
So every now and then, I’ll just write shit that I found funny about a day on/off the stage and you decide if it is funny to you or not. And once you decide that, don’t bother telling me about it because I’m not a place in life where I can handle hope or sorrow.
So last night, I was at an open mic. It was random as fuck because there was no one there in a bar. Of course there was no one there, it was a rainy Tuesday night. The kind of night in vigilante movies where the villain would do something extremely fucked up and then the hero will have to save it all.
So anyway, 10th on the list, I get up on stage. It’s just five audience members now (a couple and a group of three) and about 15 comedians. I was doing some random shit about how a group of meat eaters attacked a vegan eatery and threw chicken at the people eating there. In my head, I pictured people throwing their daughters at me, ‘ki bhai wah kya boley ho tum.’
Reality, for obvious reasons, was a little different. The couple just kept staring at me like I said some shit that is deeply offensive. There was more sadness in between and then I went to a joke about circumcision in the Mughal era.
Offense virus hit them. They picked up their things and moved to the outside area where happy people who have better things to do were listening to live music. I was cool with it. At least they did not spit on my face before they left. Because trust me, that is a genuine fear I have. That people who don’t like my performance will walk out in the middle of the performance and then take a detour till the stage, spit on my face and go away. It’s fucken gross but I’ve seen that shit in my dreams. Very weird dreams.
Anyway so they walk out. Once I’m done with the performance I just step in the outside section to get some air. The couple who walked out were now sitting with people and laughing and shit. The moment they saw me, they started pointing at me and telling something to the other three they were chilling with.
I continue to walk away but all of them kept looking at me as I walked across the floor to the washroom. They repeated the entire thing when I walked back from the washroom to the section where the open mic was going on.
I honestly think becoming the Joker from The Dark Knight is a little bit of an over reaction to people talking about foreskin removal.
Looks like my comedy got into their skin. Their foreskin. But I get it. It is more than just a ‘sensitive’ issue. It’s a part as well.
Yeah seriously, that’s my closing line. I didn’t really think the idea of writing this thing through but I’m here so I’ll publish it. Hopefully, we’ll do better next time.
You still reading? Go away!
The Rare View 