I stayed up most of last night to write some witty prose and to my shock this morning not one person had given me the Nobel Prize in scribbling or the Man Booker thing or anything then in a flash it came to me, I was sober when I was writing.
A while back now I lived in Belmont near Newcastle in NSW Australia and back then I thought about comedy as career but gave it up because I was turning into an alcoholic. The more I drunk the funnier I got I remember one memorable Sunday I was Hilarious, really really funny, you have heard of people doubled up with laughter well I was even funnier, I was so funny I couldn't walk.
It was about three kilometres from the club to the house quite a long crawl but I made it only my trouser knees suffering and it was soooooo funny I made myself sick, when I reached my sleeping spot, under the poison ivy outside our cute wee cottage it was heaven to just rest my head and listen to the cicadas, cars honking and people laughing at how funny I was.
I was reminded this morning with the sun shining through the bedroom window of how I used to wake for three months back then with the dappled sunlight glinting through the garage skylight onto my sort of futon type thing back there in Belmont.
Angie is better this morning her swelling is down to moderate chipmunk status and she shouts for "tea tea" just as loudly as normal so I am patting myself on the back for being such a clever little first aider :)
Ohh another reason I never took up comedic writing is who remembers that really really funny bloke who writes Johnathin Ross's material you know the guy? I can just see his face what's his name again? Ohh and I'm sober far too much.