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I scratch my head and chew the end of my pen. What rhymes with "repent"? I scribble a few lines down and scratch one or two out. I've got four verses down and another two to do, working to some bastardised iambic pentameter that probably breaks the Halle-Keyser rules. Does it scan? I read it to myself and it does. Sort of.
Am I treading the hallowed verses of Kerouac and Ginsberg? Or am I looking to pull a Mike Myersesque absurdist performance of non-sensical sequitors a la Married an Axe Murderer?
I think of my past experiences in front of rooms full of people expecting to be entertained. My karaoke nightmares on machines that refuse to show the lyrics I know, performing Hamlet in a foreign language in front of native speakers just because I fancied Ophelia, my childhood performances in front of scores of unforgiving classmates. What on earth have I let myself in for?
Let me put it this way; I can guarantee you good value for money one way or another.
D will be appearing whether he likes it not on stage at 20x2 later this month.
Nov. 2.2006