Magic Store

I went to a gig tonight at a magic store on Sydney Road. Originally I was there to get out of the house and see a friend I hadn't seen in a little while. She's one of those people who does EVERYTHING, so rarely has 'time'.  Anyway, she played her set which I've heard about 20 times before, it was lovely as usual... But the true magic (Heh... see what I did with that? When I did that tie in? With the words?) was what came shortly after.

There was a guy (who I assume was the store owner), who got dressed up in completely random pieces of magic shop wares, stood on stage, said nothing and simply moved awkwardly about, as the crowd giggled at his antics. The act 'fell apart', as his disguise made up of a wizards hat and a lower face mask, fell off his face/head, and he pulled several strange items out of his hat, completely unrelated to anything. He then leaned in cautiously to the microphone and mumbled "Thanks...". Applause.

What came next was by far my favorite part of the evening. A writer, or poet or some guy who seemed to have a better grasp of the English language than most got up on stage, and read from some papers that were apparently drenched in beer from one of his mates.
It was basically a 3 part saga about how he applied for a job at a video store down the road from his house. But he didn't just apply... he wrote frightening and truly disturbing letters (3 of them) of 'application' and unwarranted 'acceptance' for the position. All of which he explained were a true story, and read in a clear yet disjointed, half insane accent. Absolutely hilarious.

I'm writing about it because he made me want to start writing again. He sparked the creative, crazy fucked up flame that writing ignites, however rarely, in my heart. The performance was great as well. It would easily have held up at a stand up festival or comedy show or something.