Writing so I don't forget

I open miked. I didn’t die. It was marginally fun. I totally forgot a key word in a punchline. I got cotton mouth. I came home. I recorded everything. When I got home I accidentally erased everything I recorded.

In the middle of all of the above, I came up with three things two of which could work as something, and a third throw away line that is very true for the town in which I now live. I also talked with some folks who hang with an improv group just down the coast a hair, one of whom may be a lead in getting together with some women-type folks for workshopping some writing.

Just so I won’t forget, here are the few things that might work.

I like living in Pacifica, mostly because of the dress code. Pretty much it’s just deciding which hoodie to wear. (The locals, who know from fog and coastal breezes, laughed.)

I work in a soulless cubicle farm, but it’s non-profit. That way, I have no money and have the life sucked out of me, but”I’m helping people.” Yay!

One aspect of my job is helping to orient the best and the brightest from the country’s best universities. There’s a lot that the 20-something don’t know, like how to collate, blah, blah. But, there’s one thing they all know — How to do my job. (That line worked better than I expected, especially since I figured it out while standing on stage with a premise and no laugh.)

Damn, I think there was something else. But, it’s gone for now, or gone for an eternity. Hard to say.

There’s a few other things rumbling in my brain. I think I’ll go back next week.

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