Yesterday I had a guest who's an improviser from New York. Imagine how cool that sounds if you're a non-improviser from Uppsala. What does it even mean? Improviser, how? Improvising what? Life? Theater? Someone told me it's probably improvisation comedy. Could it also be improvisation tragedy, I asked. Probably, but it's not as fun, was the answer I got.
So I've really been looking forward to this guest coming. And then we hardly spoke at all! I'm disappointed! I was expecting improvisation for breakfast! But no.
At least I got to know about the improvisation festival that was going on in Uppsala - that's why the NYC improviser was here. So I went there yesterday with my French guest to see a show. And it was great! I really loved it! And now I know a little more what it's about. I especially liked the Barcelona Improv Group, of which all turned out to be Americans. There were three of them on stage and they always started out by telling each other some story, and I just loved the way they did it. I wish I could tell a story like that.
Anyway, I got up this morning, went to see some friends, and when I came back home the improviser was gone. Just the keys left on the kitchen table. That's it. End of story.