a self-analysis of the capacity for humour

I'm sitting at a sketch comedy show at Yuk Yuk's alone, clutching my freshly sharpened pencil and wondering why I can't be funny. Black humour, now I've been told I have a competance for that - but to be perfectly honest, I"ve never tried for black humour, it just seems to seep through into my 'serious writing'. I've been told time and time again - once more by Minister Faust at his reading last week - that if i want to learn to capture my audience, get my point across in an interesting and provocative manner, be diverse and entertaining in my presentation, then I have got to learn to be funny.



Minister Faust was introduced by an excited and flustered Janice Williamson, who proudly described how she met him while protesting the war in Iraq. He had given a speech so rousing regarding social change and human rights, that it caused Dr. Williamson to announce him as having "performative brilliance in all means, be it radio, television, or as a host for his live TV program. When she finally sat down, it was in the centre front row, with her chin in her hands to hear him speak. I idly wondered if I would ever have that effect on someone.



I settled into the third row which was close enough for a perfect line of vision and decent acoustics, but far enough away so that if boredom struck, I could watch the river and the skyline without seeming rude. However, when Minister Fust stood up to speak, I instantly forgot about potentially needing a decent distraction. He was an engaging, dramatic speaker - and unquestionably easy on the eyes, as my mother would say. He prefaced his reading by trying to sell us his television show, Health TV, and offering us low-grade prizes like pencils and mugs. I was unimpressed, but not so much so that I refused my pencil at the end of the reading. I inwardly recoiled as he described his reading and a branch of science fiction. To my elitist taste in literature, science fiction is the stuff of doomed boyfriends and annoying little brothers. To my delight, the book was absolutely hilarious, and I laughed out loud (this is rare) at least twice.



He discussed in his Q+A period how important honest language is for dialogue, and strongly recommended attending sketch comedy to hone our humour skills. So here I am now, sitting at Yuk Yuk's, not trying to polish, but merely discover if I have any hope at writing humour. I give up as I realize that I've been so stressed out, I haven't even laughed in the past hour. I walk out of hte comedy club feeling dejected, and catch the bus home. Lying in bed that night, I realize that I left my notebook full of meticulous stratagies for humour and my crappy-but-free pencil on the bus. I sigh and roll out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and walking to a nearby 24 hour internet cafe. I sit squinting in the dim glow of the computer screen and order two of Minister Faust's books form Amazon.com. Instead of trying to be funny, I'll settle for reading funny. It's got to come to me one day.