The re-birth of a writer …todays post from my co-writer BJ Kalms – as always un-edited and uncensored.
For those awaiting the juicy goss I promised ..I’m still working on it…promise.
Return of the Blogging Dead.
After leaving the comedy life for a much more normal set of circumstances I let the idea of being an artist slip under the rug. The bump was still there though, like an old wombat that had crawled in and died under the carpet, it still exuded the smell of humour, jocularity and laughter. And constantly tripping on said wombat started to get on me, my wifeâ€™s and in fact my whole familyâ€™s nerves. So I moved the poor little bugger to the very back of my mind and buried it with a rather dodgy looking shovel in my mental back lot where it couldnâ€™t get in the way of normal thoughts and life.
And then there was peace. I got a â€œboringâ€ job and stopped looking at everything with a joking eye, I started to save money, which constantly amazed my wife and bank manager, and I started to get up when it was morning and go to bed before it was morning too. I was happy in an average kind of way; I went back to college and studied computers and animation in hopes of keeping abreast of todayâ€™s technology, and acquiring more skills to keep meâ€¦well, normal. I helped my wife to and from her important work in the disability field, I even helped my 91 year old father-in-law maintain his lifestyle and home in the comfortable fashion he deserved.
After acquiring and inevitably leaving a plethora of traditional and lowly paid job excursions I started work in the industrial sector. I remember my first job was pulling fridges from containers, along with other ridiculously heavy objects of white goodness. This was discipline, this was an income, this was exercise, and this was so hard I constantly wondered whether I had done the right thing by burying the old wombat of funniness in my mental back yard. I had to though, it was not getting used, not bringing in any cash, and was starting to stink up the place as it naturally decayed from light hearted perspective to a stale sarcastic stench. I persevered with the store man jobs, shifting from several large to small companies, and all the time mourning the loss of the old mirth ridden marsupial that had brought myself and a few others joy and laughter. Life was good, even if it meant foregoing my fantasies and treating the world with serious intent. The old comedy wombat was finally dead and buried, and my mourning days were overâ€¦or so I thought.
One night (Iâ€™d like to think it was dark and stormy) I got an e-mail from my old mate Simon about an idea he had. I hadnâ€™t seen nor heard from him for over a decade and he was keen to use my skills in comedy scripting and digital art to help create a webisode internet thingamy thing he called The Bloke Show. I was curious and a little bored and I made the fatal mistake of reading the synopsis, I was hooked, it could actually work, and before I knew it the old wombat was back!
The decaying marsupial had clawed its way out of its psychological grave and ripped through my mental back door quicker than flies on poop. It staggered into my brainâ€™s living room and with a giggling howl it announced its inevitable returnâ€¦newly undead, stinking of discarded gags and pissed off at its forced burial, it fixed me with a baleful stareâ€¦ and it was then I knew I had no choiceâ€¦ I had to sign up, I had to help my old buddy, and I had to be the wielder of the wombat again. Only we can save mankind, and if only I could imagine a better class of air freshener.
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, same wombat time, same wombat blog!