writing
When I ponder the feeling of love and let me tell you, there’s nothing better than pondering when you’re alone on a Saturday night. But when I find myself pondering which indeed is something I prefer to do in private, the word synchronization comes to mind. Why synchronization? Because it’s something that I don’t experience when I’m in love. I seem to fall in love with someone after I’ve been with them. Perhaps this isn’t actually love, but then beggars can’t be choosy.
I envy couples who are in love with each other at the same time. I’d be quite content to like the person I’m with and vice versa. It always seems that a woman is absolutely crazy about me, which sets off some internal alarm system and starts me thinking what’s wrong with her. Or of course, I become completely smitten over some woman who totally ignores me and who can blame her. When I am affected by some women that I like, I can’t seem to communicate. I think the best line that I ever used was something like, “Hello, I’m Rick, does your house need cleaning?” Whoo-ya, the last great romantic.
The older I get, the stranger I get. I mean as much as I’d love to inform the general public of my eccentricities, there’s a part of me that’s somewhat reluctant to allow this emotional window to open and be put on view. Who knows, maybe while I’m performing, a petition could be passed around the audience with the intent to lock me up. Now, don’t start thinking that this makes me public enemy number one.
Hmmmn, why doesn’t the phone ring? Geez, it never rings. I guess nobody loves me. Oh wait, I remember now, I have no phone. I mean I have a phone, but it’s not hooked up. Hahahah.
So where was I. Oh yes doctor, I remember quite clearly exposing myself to the public. I’d probably get bad reviews anyway. Maybe I could get lucky and have my name misspelled, which of course has happened to me on numerous occasions. But with my luck, this would be one of the few times that my name would be spelled correctly. Oh well. Perhaps I could contact the reporter from “Die Welt”, who completely omitted my last name and had me coming from Australia. Thank you very much. Wouldn’t you know, it was a very good review? All I can say is where are incompetent reporters when you need them. Hmmmn, they’re probably talking to some cops.
One thing is for certain. If I see an attractive woman, I’m not going to smile and show her my teeth. Geez, even my dentist doesn’t have that privilege. In fact, no one has, not even me. O brother where art thou teeth. They’re probably on holiday with my hair and socks.
I suppose of all performers to speak about love, I must be an odd choice. I mean my performances have never been about love. I’m not the type of performer who gets up on stage with that “please love me” attitude, which is probably the number one reason why audiences have never really taken to me. Just laugh at my joke, that’s good enough for me. As far as the final bow is concerned, I’d be more than happy to do that backstage. It’s not that I don’t appreciate an audience appreciating me; of course everyone needs some sort of feedback, but as far as I’m concerned they could write me a letter, or give me a call.
Here’s a question that I occasionally ponder. If an audience likes me so much, how come no one talks to me after a show? They use to, sort of, I mean I used to sit at a big table with my fellow performers and people would come up and talk to us all the time. Well, actually come to think of it, I was rarely included in any conversations. I wonder if I was putting people off by being quiet or was I too boisterous after a performance. Come to think of it, I never did have that much luck meeting women after a show. Either I’d be too shy and retiring which would possibly make them think that was too aloof or just plain deaf & dumb. On the other hand, I’d be still wired after the show and would give everyone the impression that I was from outer space. I’d probably have trouble in outer space.
