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I haven’t got as far as I hoped with either AIOTM scripts or booking RHLSTP guests this week, but hopefully I will spring into action. With all that is ahead of me I have decided that I need to pull myself together and get fit again, so I am going to cut out booze and chocolate for a bit and try to get my exercise regime going again. It’s time to stuff my face with vegetables and also night I made a big bean and vegetable pie for today’s lunch (and dinner as it turned out). Yes, that has its dangerous side effects, but I need to be here to see my daughter grow up and if the collateral damage is some light chemical weaponry then so be it.
Phoebe did her bit. Not only did she fall straight asleep at 7pm last night when I put her to bed, she slept through the night for the first time in ages and didn’t wake up until after 7. It was turn to get up with her (and see to her in the night if necessary) and I was actually awake before her. I thought about rushing into her bedroom and waking her up as some preemptive revenge for her future behaviour. But I made the most of the extra half an hour of lying down.
I am spectacularly unfit. Every time I have gone for a run recently I have started well and then run out of juice at the half mile mark. Today I hoped the good night’s sleep would mean I could get to a couple of miles, but once again things broke down pretty quickly. Two years ago I was dashing around the 6 and a bit mile loop in under an hour. I don’t think I will ever get back to that level of fitness, but I’d like to complete that distance again before we move.
I also got caught up in my wife’s plan to declutter the bathroom and wardrobe and managed to get rid of two bin liners of clothes and another of rubbish (including loads of little bottles of moisturiser that I have taken from hotels over the years even though I never use them).
When you’re up at 6.30 the day is long. We went to vote after lunch and I was flagging. And I needed to write a Metro column too, so my other work went on the back burner as I struggled to think of anything to write about. Nothing much has happened recently.
In the end I decided it might be amusing to tell the readers of Metro about my appearance at Tempting Failure. Not only is Me1 vs Me2 snooker an odd thing to be on at this performance art festival, but I woudl imagine that nobody would have expected 600 words about it in the Metro.
I have largely been finding it amusing that this whole thing is happening, but as I wrote about it it struck me what a big deal this is. I know I am pretty tongue in cheek about the snooker thing and that part of its appeal (if it has any) is the ambiguity of purpose. Does it mean anything? Is it just madness? Is it the fact that it means nothing its true meaning? Is it art or isn’t it art? And does that very question make it art? Or not?
But as glib as I can be about it I have always seen it as more than a waste of everyone’s time (though it is that as well). And in its persistence and stupidity I think it does have a lot to say (even if most of it is about poorly described inexpert snooker). I am rather pleased and even proud that the artistic community has recognised something in it (even if they are taking the piss out of me or themselves and even if it is a joke from their side that got out of hand, both of us waiting for the other to blink, then finding the other hadn’t blinked and it was happening). Because I am light-hearted and silly and don’t veer away from cock jokes (though my cock jokes are very good) I think I am often underestimated. A lot of that is my fault. I have willingly played the part of an idiot for most of my career (I think a lot of that comes from being clever at school and knowing that the other kids didn’t like you if you were clever, so I would deliberately downplay that and rebel against it - whilst still getting excellent exam results).
As I looked at the Tempting Failure website and saw my stupid grinning/scowling Me1/Me2 faces staring out amongst the serious and shocking photos of real art I felt both ridiculous, guilty, amused and proud. Some big things are happening this year and my persistence and insecure self-belief mean I am slowly making progress in lots of different areas. The short films, Tempting Failure, the AIOTM kickstarter success, the gradually increasing tour audiences. They’re all little explosions of success and vindication for the many years of podcasting and not giving up when no one else was that interested in paying me to do stuff. Big stars say their success is proof that if you believe in yourself you can do anything. This is bullshit. Obviously only a tiny amount of people can be hugely successful. But if you have a crack at something it might eventually lead somewhere if you’re lucky, OK at what you do and if you persist. If you don’t try to do something then it definitely won’t happen.
My life is fucking insane. To the extent that something insane like this can happen and it doesn’t properly strike me how insane it is. People laughed when I said that self-playing snooker was performance art. After 78 frames no one is laughing now.
