I am posting this blog very late today, mostly because I have been asleep most of the day.
On and off. On and off. Mostly off.
A couple of times when I was briefly awake, I tried to transcribe a long conversation I had recorded for a blog in which the person I was talking to was, in effect, committing professional suicide in front of my ears. They had suggested the chat to me.
I am only about a third of the way through transcribing it. I am not at all sure that blog will ever see the light of day.
I was woken up by a phone call.
“Just write a paragraph,” the person suggested.
Easier said than done if your brain is dead.
Anyway… here are three paragraphs, all by other people. All North Americans.
Here is a communication from this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith (always a good standby):
“It is just a photo of the elderly woman on the seat in front of me on the bus….her mohair coat lit by the sun… I thought she looked interesting… though she didn’t go to the art gallery and strip or anything… I went out for lunch in a grot cafe type place and overheard a man speaking with intelligent outrage about a new law…The man, who was around my age, turned out to be a former stripper who had won the title of Mr Nude World in 1985…”
Here is something American comedian Scott Capurro said during his recent chat show with Jim Davidson:
“We had Michael Barrymore on the show years ago and it was after all those things had happened and he was living in a bedsit in Ealing, driving a small car. He said his neighbours were all young professionals. They didn’t know who he was – just an old guy in a bedsit. And this is someone who, when I came over to Britain in the 1990s, was a huge TV star. So talented. So much to give.”
And here is a repeated query from American comedian Lewis Schaffer:
“What have you heard? Was I funny? Was I funny?”