Oh my god. I am so tired this morning. Last night, I had really involved dreams, and when I woke up, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. Does that ever happen to any of you? You wake up, and you feel like you’ve been living another life in the Dreamscape, so you didn’t get any rest?
Tired as I am, though, the only thing I remember is sitting on my knees on a skateboard, and using my hands to push myself down Lake Avenue in Pasadena. Weird.
Night before last, I had this dream that I was riding around in Air Force One with Bill Clinton (who was a really nice guy in my dream, incidentally), and every time I tried to enter a room, the Secret Service would search me and make me answer security questions. Really weird.
That sketch I put up at ACME? The “Hip Replacement” one? The rest of the company liked it, and so did the director! This means that my sketch is “on the list,” which means that the director will work with me to refine it, and then we’ll put it in front of an audience. If the audience likes it, my sketch (and I!) may make it into the show. It’s still a long way from being back on the ACME stage every Saturday night, but at least I have started down that road again. I really hope I make the show, because just being there for a few hours on Saturday reminded me how much fun I have with that company, and how much I miss performing there.
After I pitched my material, I stuck around to watch the Bad Taste Show. It’s a collection of sketches that are too dirty, or too offensive, or too “wrong” to be in a regular show, and they are hilarious! I’m totally pitching material for the next one we do.

Anne and I were listening to Fred while we were driving home from Burbank the other day. That stupid “Safety Dance” song came on, and I said to her, “This is the weirdest song, ever.”
“Yeah, who thought this was a good idea?” she said.
“I mean, think about all the steps that went into this: someone wrote down all these words, then composed music, then produced the whole thing . . . and at every step of the way, they believed that this was a song worth releasing.” I said.
“Hey, Neil,” she said, in a really bad British accent, “Let’s make a song about the Safety Dance!”
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” I said, in my own bad accent, “We’ll have them all hoppin’ and dancin’ and –”
I started to giggle, and was unable to continue.
“You can dance! You can dance! Everybody look at your hands!” I sang, involuntarily.
CLAP! CLAP! went Anne’s hands.
“You can dance! You can dance! Everybody’s taking the chaaaaa-HAAAAA-nnnncccceeeeee . . . ” I continued.
“With the SAFETY DANCE!” We shouted out in unison.
“We are such dorks,” Anne said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
We sang the remainder of the song with extreme gusto.
I should also point out that when we got home, Ryan told us that he wants to buy “Thriller.”
I think there’s something in the water here.

I put up a couple of eBay auctions yesterday afternoon.
They are:

1. Autographed Dancing Barefoot, for those of you who missed it, or who
   live outside of the USA (Note: this is a *real* “first edition.” It’s one of the first 250 I printed, and it comes complete with four typos! Can you feel the excitement?)
2. EarnestBorg9 MultiGalactic Tour T-shirt, from my improv / sketch comedy group

I have always been really lucky with eBay stuff. People seem happy to bid on my items, and I’m happy to send them off to good homes. If these auctions are a success, I’ll find some other stuff around here and put it up for your bidding pleasure.
Update: Yeah, turns out I can’t make links. They should work, now. Thanks to commenters who provided the correct links. That’ll teach me to blog before I’ve had any coffee.

I am pitching material at ACME in about two hours. If the director likes my sketches, I’ll make the show, and be able to give up the comedy to the threes of WWdN readers who can make it to a show once it opens.
Only problem is, I’m so focused on Just A Geek and a couple other side projects right now, my brain is about as far from “sketch comedy writing mode” as it can be.
I don’t want to miss another show, so I sat down at my iBook this morning, and forced myself to write something . . . anything . . . that may be mildly amusing.
I was recalling this time when I was 16, and my parents took me shopping for my first car. I was on TNG at the time, so I was lucky enough to afford pretty much whatever I wanted, and my heart was set on the Honda Prelude si 4WS. My parents wanted to make sure that I shopped around, though, so they made me look around at lots of different places.
Of course, I was a huge fucking brat, and I went along, but I was totally sullen and lame the whole time. In retrospect, they could have taught me a valuable lesson if they’d just told me, “You’re being a shit, so no car for you, Mr. Smart Guy. Try again in a few months.”
Anyway . . .
We were out in Glendora at some Chevy dealership, where the oldest, most decrepit salesman in history tried to convince me that the Barretta was the ultimate in sportscar technology.
I thought it was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, and I just wanted to leave, but I politely listened while he told me, “Oh, it’s a real head-turner. Lots of girls will look at you when you’re driving this . . . that is, if they can see you!” He paused dramatically, leaned close to me, and said, sotto voce, “Don’t tell your parents, but this baby has got a lot of zip!”
I managed to not explode into laughter by biting down on my lip and just solemny nodding my head.
“Would you like to sit in it?” he asked, directing the question more to my parents than to me.
I most certainly did not, but I politely agreed anyway, and he moved to open the door.
It was locked. Again, I bit down on my lip and clenched my hands into fists to retain my composure. This time I drew blood.
He reeked of scotch and cheap cigarettes and wore a three piece, brown polyester suit with a pale blue shirt and dark blue tie. He looked desperate as he searched his pockets for the absent key.
“I’ll be right back with the key,” he said.
He started to go back to the building that apparently held the keys, but I swear to god, he shuffled. He walked so slowly, it took him nearly a full minute to go about 50 feet.
As soon as he was inside, I turned to my parents.
“What do you think, Willow?” My mom said.
“I think it has a lot of zip,” I deadpaned.
Then I exploded into laughter, and told them what he said.
“I’d really just like to leave,” I said, and I could see my dad begin to nod his head, when the salesman appeared in the doorway. Another painfully long minute later, he was back.
With the wrong key.
“Oh, nuts,” he said, “I must have gotten the key for the Cavalier.” He looked at me hopefully. That walk had taken a lot out of him.
“Well, I don’t know, sir,” I said. “Does it have as much zip as the Baretta?”
He sighed. “Nothing has as much zip as the Baretta,” he said, and turned to go.
“That’s okay,” my dad said, “We’ll come back after dinner.”
We shook hands and politely took his business cards before we left.
I spent the longest time today trying to convert that memory into a humorous sketch, but I just couldn’t make it work. So I did a mental command:

[/wil/brain/]$ vim really.great.sketch.idea &
[/wil/brain/]$ konqueror occupy.the.conscious.mind.html

While my background process churned away, I ended up looking and laughing out loud at Hipster Bingo. An idea sprung, fully formed, into my head, and I wrote a sketch called “Hip Replacement.”
Here’s a tiny bit:

Jerry: Are you constantly denied access to hip Hollywood night clubs because you’re too “suburban”? Are you called names like “frado,” “fin,” and “chipper?” Do you get “the fridigaire” when you try to get into a “deck” club?
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then you need my new video series, “Too Hip for the Room.”
Hi! I’m Jerry Avon, Harvard MBA, former WB network executive, and lifestyle coach. My video series “Too Hip for the Room,” is your ticket out of Encino, and into Silverlake! It’s easy to master the secrets of being a Hipster, and I’ll show you how.
Tape One starts out with Basic Hipster, where you’re introduced to fundamental Hipster concepts like “the ironic laugh,” and “calculated disinterest.” You’ll learn how to utilize passive aggressive posturing: when it’s deck to declare a deck band passe, and maximizing the sigh. You’ll add words like “clothesline,” “bronson,” “sexpack” and “kale” to your hipster vocabulary.
With our proven techniques, you’ll be able to secretly enjoy the concert you’re attending, while making sure all your hipster buddies know you totally don’t want to be there. After 30 short minutes, you’ll know exactly when to proclaim your activity “tired,” and “busted,” for maximum hipster effectiveness.

I don’t know if it will make the show, and I quite honestly expect it to be “The First Pancake” idea, but it surprised me and made me laugh when I wrote it . . . and as a bonus, I found this silly “How Hip Are You” quiz while I was looking up hipster lingo online. You can see my score by clicking “more.”

I guess my writing style is called “narrative non-fiction,” because I take events from my life, and I recreate them in a hopefully interesting and dramatic fashion. That comes from reading a lot of David Sedaris, Dave Eggers, and other authors who get to swim in that great pool of writing while I watch through the fence. I can see that influence in the stories that I put in Dancing Barefoot, and in weblog entries like The Trade and Fireworks. It’s a fine line that I dance across, where I allow myself to be inspired and compelled to write without just being derivative.
One of the great bits of advice Stephen King gives us in his “On Writing” book is to read and read and read, because it makes you a better writer. (I have always preferred reading to TV and movies . . . I wonder if that preference contributed to my lack of success in the entertainment industry? They say that actors should watch lots of other actors, and directors should watch lots of other directors . . . hrmmm. Interesting. But not what this post is about.)
I’ve always been a reader. When I was a kid, I was allowed to stay up as late as I wanted, as long as I was reading, so I still read every night before I go to bed. I often find myself sitting between a cold mug of tea and a dying fire well past midnight, lost in some other author’s world, hours after I told Anne, “I’ll be right there.”
Night before last, I was reading “Wizard and Glass” (Part IV of The Dark Tower series) and I hit the book’s point of no return; that place where something happens and I become consumed by the story. I can’t put the book down, and when I am forced to, the characters live in my mind, sometimes to the point of serious distraction during my day.
All day yesterday, in an effort to leave Roland and Susan and Bert and Mid World behind for a few hours, I thought about other books I’ve read, and what their points of no return were. I share them now, off the top of my head, without going to the bookshelf to cheat. I think I’ll recall the Point of Intrigue as well as the Point of No Return, because this is my blog and I say so. Nyahh.
Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes
POI – the first time Morpheus spoke, and it was in such wonderful lettering, I knew that I was in for something wonderful.
PONR – When Morpheus goes into Hades, and all three incarnations of Satan speak to him, I was hooked.
Neverwhere:
POI – I can’t recall. It must have happened when I read the back.
PONR – “Mind the Gap.”
American Gods:
POI – When Shadow gets called into the Warden’s office for early release.
PONR – On the airplane, when Odin addresses Shadow by name.
I swear, I’ve read stuff by authors who are not named Neil Gaiman. Witness:
Best American Non-Required Reading 2002
POI – “Edited by Dave Eggers.”
PONR – In his introduction, Dave Eggers talks about floating in a stolen swimming pool at night. His description of the blue light shimmering on the walls was perfect.
The Gunslinger:
POI and PONR- “The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.” I love that line so much, I can quote it in my sleep.
Fables:
POI – You mean it’s like fairy tales, but they live in the real world?
PONR – Bigby Wolf is a detective? Where do I sign?
Ringworld:
POI – It’s a solid ring, one Earth-orbit in circumference.
PONR – Fist of God.
Hitchhiker’s Guide:
POI – Don’t Panic!
PONR – When the Vogons tell Arthur that the plans to demolish Earth are exactly the same as the plans to demolish his house.
Okay, I could easily go on for days like this, but I’ll end now with the my current read, because I bet this is more interesting to me than anyone reading it.
Wizard and Glass:
POI – I had to find out how they beat Blaine the Mono.
PONR – Dinner at the Mayor’s mansion, when Roland dances with Susan.
Have a great weekend everybody. If you need me, I’ll be in my reading in my chair.