I ♥ Hecklers
Best gig ever. Well, probably not EVER, but it kinda feels that way. I’ve gotta quit comedy more often…it really puts me in the perfect frame of ‘not-caring’ mind, meaning I, well…don’t care. And perform much better for it.
For the first time this tour…there were hecklers. Damn I’ve missed that. Those of you who’ve read my blog for a while might remember late last year feeling stressed about my fan-club of drunken construction workers, only to later realise that dealing with them made any other audience seem like a piece of cherry puff pastry.
Well, tonight that training paid off, people. It was only one group of drunken dudes down the back of an overpacked room – normally I’d ignore this for a little while but they were rowdy enough that I suspected the audience would be on my side if I went for them (and they were, bless ’em.) Unfortunately said hecklers seemed to love my dealings with them so much that they egged me on throughout, but it was all good. Plus I got to throw in some new material I’ve been writing about hecklers…it’s got even further to go but tonight was a good taste-test.
The bottom line is that I LOVED being on-stage tonight, which was a lovely lovely surprise. Rest assured (hubby) that comedy and I are still heading for a break…we’re just having our last little rendezvous now that the impending separation has brought back the spark.
The funny thing about tonight was that the chick organising the gig was feeling incredibly down in the dumps after an absolutely SCATHING review of her show in The Age and was considering quitting comedy. I found myself giving her a pep-talk, everything from “don’t worry, I know you feel terrible now and you have every right to, but give it a couple of days to settle down and you’ll feel better” to “it’s so much easier to write a terrible review; I’ll bet the reviewer just got off on trying to be witty.” (I can say this cos I’ve been guilty of the same!)
But the irony of this did hit me square in the face, don’t you worry. If the best cure for helping yourself is to help someone else, then consider myself helped. I may just make a wristband: “What Would Jenny Do?”
*reading last sentence* That doesn’t even resemble sense. Note to self: go to bed.