Every now and then you see a really good bit of comedy on telly and you're inspired again...that happened tonight when I caught a bit of Dave Gorman on Dave - it's completely the way it should be done, none of this Live at the Apollo nonsense.
Anyway, a bit agitated today because still nobody is replying to my emails. Well, people do - people message me all the time about other stuff (can I learn this song for a wedding gig/great act we should sign to the label/let's meet up for coffee when I'm back in the country etc etc), but the tour stuff - just one reply, and that was a polite rejection. Been using two different accounts and have emailed myself from them to make sure they work, which they do. Right, I shall stop going on about it, if nobody wants the new show then nobody wants it, it shall forever remain a lounge show.
Annoyingly, though, it's looking like quite a good show at the moment, I've added some real nice touches today.
One or two potential opportunities for freelance work popping up, which is cool because I'm still not sure about the current place. But then it's not cool, because I shouldn't be excited by this, it's just the means to an end when the shows/gigs aren't paying enough. I shouldn't be too worried about freelance stuff, if I was that into it I might as well go and get a proper job again and be even more disheartened with everything than I am now.
I am actually happy enough, by the way, just really impatient. Okay, 'happy' is a bit strong.
Enjoyed a few hours compiling a list of companies to ask about sponsorship for the soap opera, because that's definitely happening now and it's going to be ridiculous and I need ridiculous back in my life. Tomorrow I'll email them all and then press refresh a million times on my email browser whilst shouting at my laptop that nobody is responding to me. God, I even annoy myself.
Spent a lot of time back in the family home today, sorting through stuff, listening to mum being angry about very little, and then being bitten by the dog quite a bit. We're unveiling the plaque for dad next week (and a bench, I think) outside his old shop. I've got to do a 'funny speech' about all his quirks. Doesn't get any easier, does it?
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