Performing in a bar is the fastest way I know to learn the importance of concision. When people have imbibed and are encouraged to keep imbibing, you only have so many words to which they are willing to listen before their what-to-pay-attention-to scale tips toward their drink in hand or the drunk girl falling off a barstool who looks more than willing to make out with you with fully bar-inappropriate tongue and possibly throw up in a cab on your trek back to your apartment in Astoria where you live with your craigslist roommate who uses your shampoo and thinks you don't notice. I had planned on doing a couple of bits, maybe three minutes or so, before delving into the song, but 90 seconds in, I knew it was time to jam or be jammed. I was unsure about the songs' reception among the drunkards, but was smilingly surprised to be asked by the crowd to return to the stage for a second number, which I did not do, for the host had things to deal with other than changing the up, and I don't blame her. Burlesquers can be pissy when you mess with their time frames.
So all in all, a success, I would say. Not in the boys club, but you can never have too much practice doing these things, and lord knows your audiences only get slightly more sober at the top. Even Eddie Izzard gets hecklers. Ugh. Don't even get me started about drunk people in Europe.
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