I started to get sick to my stomach yesterday over the show. Like, that fluttery nasuea I get before I go on a date with a boy, or before an audition. It keeps coming back in waves, like being on drugs. I got home last night after leaving the house at 8 am in the morning and should have been exhausted. Sara and I filmed the last segment we needed and sent the tape to Matthew's capable hands via Ms. Lady Anne. But instead of crashing once my head hit my beloved soft mattress, I stared at the ceiling worrying all night about show specifics I could do not a thing about at 2 am, getting excited about the pre-show music, and running over my lines. I was generally being a twerp. I can't help it. I feel like I'm super-charged with some sort of electricity.
I can't believe it, this euphoria* is so all-encompassing. How do professional writers & comedians do this all the time and not crack up? How can regular people not want to do this every day, and instead have desk jobs? Dude, where's my car?
*This is the same name of a song by David Garza who, if you don't listen to, then you goddamn should.
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4 comments:
You could go up there and pick your ass and you'd be amazing. Girlfriend, pla-ezzz. I am sending my good vibes your way, Barber! But yu don't need it.
Sorry for the typo. "you."
You're magical like a fucshia unicorn!
Hey! I have that same pillow radio...except it's pink..
doh! nevermind & have an awesome show :)
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