Day five of seven here in Vegas.
Despite the fact I enjoy the town I'm starting to make tick marks on the side of the video poker machines to count down until I leave. A week here is too long. Tonight I have ticket for the Improv at Harrah's casino. I have not been doing much winning this trip and therefor though my evening would be better served laughing rather than crying.
I enjoy live comedy and I applaud anyone who can stand up before a crowd (an inebriated crowd in lots of cases) and deliver material they created. Writers at least are afforded a bit of time and space before their babies are judged and reviewed. A comedian's mental offering are up for immediate appraisal.
Sometimes in my crazier, or more insane moments I imagine that I could be a comedian. I make people laugh on a fairly regular basis and sometimes I even do it intentionally. I have a habit of noting the unnoticed as do many stand-ups. I'm not afraid of people or public speaking. I have read my fiction in front of groups of various sides and truly it doesn't frighten me much anymore.
And I'd love to make a living spouting off my ideas and thoughts, but guess what? If given a choice, become the next Larry the Cable Guy, Jeff Foxworthy, or Ron White. (make no mistake I'd fall into that Blue Collar Crowd type of humor), or the next Carl Hiasson, John Grisham, or Nicholas Sparks I'm joining my literary brothers.
I'd rather hammer out my diatribes in solitude than under the glare of lights. If I want a drunk heckler to point out my creative shortcomings, I'd rather print out a page and let my wife read it while I refill her wine glass. That means I'm never likely to get my own sitcom, but that's okay, because I've got my own blog.