As a dream

Art, already at Charing Cross underground station. Even before one exits to the Trafalgar Square and enters the National gallery of arts.

So much to be inspired.

So much to dream.

So much to use.

Which story should I tell first? Which to chose and use? Which one should be my "first" of 2013?

Back two years ago: notebook

This morning, I found (in fact it was on a small table) the first notebook of my essays to learn comedy. 

From the comedy school's Standup workshop February to March, through Standup & Deliver by Logan Murray in May, till June 2011, containing not only what I wrote during my first standup comedy workshops, but also things from the first books read on the subject.

I got through three pages only yet, but already it is very interesting, to me. I will copy everything on the computer and at the same time think about not only what I wrote then but the distance traveled.

Two years ago, indeed, I went to the discovery of "comic" in me and with the intention of expanding my "comfort zone." I did expand it.

At the beginning of it, I cited dad who on his hospital bed, near death, told me: "take life less seriously, Julie."

Then, remembered (to give me courage or use) what my daughter answered me once, in the car driving me to the airport. I told him that "I worry how my face is full of traces of medical burnings" and she told me: "Do not worry, Mom. Nobody looks at you, really. All worried about how they all look. "

To this, I added two years ago in my notebook : "since I do almost looks in the mirror either. And when I do, I have a shock. Is it me? How is it possible someone so young at heart, mind, soul appear so?"

Then I added: "perhaps, they can see the five year old child through my eyes".

I have not used this since I awkwardly tried to explain it to my first workshop's at young men/boys, my colleagues in the Standup Workshop :  they let me "die" with this material. Staring at me as to a strange animal.

Yes, it's true, it was the first and last time I "died" at a comedy gig.

However, it is only necessary to find "how to" turn it is, I could reuse it then.

And this is only from the first page!

There is a treasure of material not yet used waiting in this notebook and I hope to use them and revise them, turn the material in a way that can result in laugh.

Journal 25 Dec 1944

It all begun, not now, but 68 years ago, as the Christmas 1944,
when I was ten and half, I got this diary and begin to write in it.
From then one "the rest is history"… I never stopped really writing and documenting my life.

Expressing my feelings, up and downs. First, in writing, then telling, or humour. Expressing and not bottling inside.

Sometimes, there was a small pause, or another way of communication, used, friends, lovers, family. Pictures.

This was the beginning.

Here translated in English from Hungarian the first two pages. Read some of the rest (all my first journal) at:

julie70diary.blogspot.co.uk

the rest is only translated in French (diaries 10 to 70)

Budapest, December 25, 1944

Yesterday we celebrated Christmas. I am filled with happiness! Yet it is war.

We have pine branches on the lamp, we have decorated and added candies.

I also received many gifts! This diary, this pencil, a pair of slippers, leather for shoes, a large sledge, a pair of angora gloves, an inkstand, a bunch of images to be cut, two books: The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and The Great Day, I also received a nice box to store my treasures and eight handkerchiefs.

I am very happy!

Afternoon
For two days we were hearing the roar of cannons so strong that even the mother heard, at least the most violent ones.

This is what happened this afternoon during my gymnastics I hit my head, I almost forgot to make the bridge from standing.

We spent the afternoon in Tommy (a cute 2 years old boy!) Because at their place it is hot. (But I'm going to bed now.)

December 26 1944

Today was Mom's birthday.
The morning I was scolded and later I walked around the house, to the nearby streets with Dad.

I found some interesting things. We now live in Rose Hill, the street LotsBlood. A small bomb fell in front of the church of St. Apostles' (but no one died). A shell struck the corner of Margaret Street and it destroyed the windows and brought down a few fences but caused no other damage.

The Russians are already 10km from us, at Warm Valley (I'm happy.)

As it was the anniversary of Mom, the afternoon we played Monopoly. It was great! At the end, the French (escaped from Germany on the Danube) has replaced mom. Finally, he won with 48 thousand, I am left with 24 thousand, Dad only 20 thousand in ... paper.
It was fantastic! ! ! ! ! !

Evening:
I wonder what love is? What then does one feel in your heart?

Relaxing for a moment between takes

Filming for canal 4 Thinking.tv emission, the sound man, the producer, the runner, the video man, probably the names I did not got so well, in fact they did many things!

One did not only take sound but also surveyed the image on a screen, the two women asked me questions, prompted and asked sometime to tell it differently (adding the question for example) and the third also was in charge of lightening not only the filming.

Interesting experience.

From more then one hour, and perhaps half hour turning, 2 minutes will remain after editing, 'as if I told all in once' and not as if pieces are put together.

Good news! It will be on web from 31 December, afternoon. www.4thought.tv/
And on the television, Canal 4 BBC Sunday after the evening news, at 6 45 probably the 6 January 2013.


I had chance: the subject of Change is great for me, not only because I had so many, and last year a "spectacular" one with 55 gigs, suddenly at 77 year old, but also so much to tell.

Another time, I will be able to make some stories and tell about more. Last year, no, this year in March at Canal Cafe Theatre, Spark London theme (I coproducer with Joanna Yates) was also Change.

Yes, and there were many other changes in my life this last year!

2 cataract operations, first denture with three teeth, 5 minor skin surgeries, new eyeglass, and mostly: learned how to look at life with a Comedian's Eye.

44 month ago, as if it was yesterday

slideshow of photos taken on a special day, on a special place, along Great union canal

From central London to Warwick road and then a stroll along the Great Union (or Regent) Canal, till Chalk Rd, 44 month ago, the next day I moved in my apartment I ma now: finally. Waiting, to have the green light was long, finally went to London's discovery trips.

How to create a humorous story?

it can be said so much about it, of course, and it depends also a lot of the audience,

in the cycle of Area 59 Personal Storytelling workshops, yesterday three hours did fly without realising for the 8 of us, a workshop (real one!) held by the Humorous Workshop Winner from Toastmasters David Hampton, who gave us with kindness and intelligence "how to"

Of course, a personal story to begin with, add personality and foible, and stress, and exaggeration, and do not stop at stretching it as far as necessary. Personality! one of the most important factors, he left us thinking about it.

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold:— 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the Presence in the room he said

"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,

And with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerly still, and said "I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Web

James Henry Leigh Hunt

Look well: funny, strange

A broken body is not a broken person

So inspiring! So well told too. Skier Janine Shepherd was hoping for an Olympic medal -- until she was hit by a truck. She shares a powerful story about the human potential for recovery.

Watch it!

Ted : shut up, listen!