when i sleep at night, i don't dream. it's like i close my eyes and open them again with no time elapsing in between. blank. nothing. some have told me they believe it to be from my habbitual marijuana use... i tend to agree...a hush fell over the crowd as he walked up to the front of the stage, and calmly set down his cocktail on top of the rarely-used grand piano, and stood in front of the room filled with couples and groups of couples surrounding tiny tables, filled to the edge with mandatory minimum drink order...
at any rate, when i try to remember years back to one of the dreams i had when i slept at night, and this one stands out.
he grabbed the micro phone stand with two hands and adjusted it up to reach his height, and began speaking slowly into the mic without ever once needing to clear his throat. he told stories that he made up about a person sitting four tables back, because they were an easy enough target, and because he didn't rely on a written "act" or a "bit"... he just knew he was funny. and he knew he was funniest when it was brand new. and it's only brand new when it's improvised.
so he paces occationally, and speaks deliberately, allowing for a shit ton of awkward "pregnant" pauses. and really not too interested in winning any popularity contests. he always just did what made HIMSELF laugh, and never really cared if anyone else agreed... he just knew by now, after years on the road, paying his bills with his craft, proving time after time...
he was indeed funny.
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