Yesterday, instead of writing my blog, I met a friend for coffee (sorry about that, Dear Reader) at Giant Coffee, the best place in Ramsgate. It passes all of my coffee criteria - great coffee, in a perfect cup, no handle, happy staff who act like they own the place, and they probably do, and cake to die for, although I rarely eat it, unless I haven’t eaten for a couple of days.
My friend, an actual Rock God, in his day, who spent a good chunk of his life on tour, a world of big gigs, has an unlimited wealth of stories, tells them well, and always makes me laugh, my top criteria for a friend.
These days he still has a band, still gigs, writes songs, and film scripts and books, because he loves doing it.
Over coffee, I told him about my new show, Vegas or Bust, a heady mix of motivation and magic, and about a new five minute piece where I teach how to do a few great, little (quick), easy to do magic tricks. Actually, I just perform them, give everyone a little bag of props, and a link to a YouTube channel where I do the teaching. I think everyone should have a good party piece, and if you would like the link (I’m filming it next week and it’ll be up in 21 April), Dear Reader, just message me or email (acuniversal@yahoo.co.uk).
Anyway, I showed my friend a couple of the tricks, he likes magic, and knows a bit more about it than he lets on. I mention that it’s taken a ridiculous amount of time to come up with them, creating tricks that are good, and anyone can do, is not the easiest thing in my world.
Then my friend, this talented, creative soul, tells me something surprising, that if he’s sitting around his place, playing his guitar, writing songs, or loses himself in some of his other writing projects, he feels guilty. Although he’s made his living at it all his life, pretty much, he still worries, I think, that other people think it isn’t a proper job, hence the guilt.
I thought, Dear Reader, that I would tell you, never feel guilty about doing something you love, then I realised it is guilt that dictates that I rarely eat cake, so I can’t really tell you that.
I can, however, tell you, really don’t waste your time worrying about what other people think, don’t ever let it stop you.
Later, much later, midnight, I sat at my desk, surrounded by oranges, walnuts, eggs, a Kinder egg, an arrow, a small picture frame, some small boxes, eight packets of chewing gum, some gold chocolate coins and a salt cellar. I wanted to come up with the most impossible, magical place a small, vanished object could reappear. I won’t say what I decided, in case you come and see the show someday, but it’s good, and it took until 4.00am.
Then I opened an email that told me my first show, on 20 April, has only sold 8 tickets, so I took my dog for a walk and posted about 50 fliers through letterboxes. Honestly, I I can’t sell out a 25 seat venue, then I don’t know quite what I’ll do. Actually, I do know, I’ll suck it up, take the lesson, put in a great show, and get better at marketing.
At 5am I was back at my desk, cleared of all my props, apart from the Kinder egg toy, which I quickly assembled, and started this blog.
Dear Reader, if you would like a small, purple, plastic dinosaur, with green teeth, a bright red tongue, and strangely staring little yellow eyes, it’s yours for the asking.
Good Fortune, this week and onwards.
Alisdair
acuniversal@yahoo.co.uk
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