CMUA: What is your earliest memory of creativity?
Pax: Jumping on the family computer, opening up Microsoft Word, and writing fantasy stories. I have vague memories of a hero, a cave, and a dragon.
I would create a file, and then put a file within a file, so no one would find them and read them. I did them specifically after school on days when Mum and Dad weren't home. I feel like they'd be really proud of me if they saw me doing that, but I was just terrified. I think I was scared of people reading it and thinking it was bad.
Also, what happened to the family computer? Can we bring that back? I'm sick of everyone having their device. I want one computer that everyone shares, that's covered in dust, for some reason has doilies on it, and it’s so loud every time you turn it on.
CMUA: Did you unlock any core memories of writing when you began your book?
Pax: I did when I sat on my computer, which is not a family computer.
It was a bizarre experience, a really cool experience, almost like an out-of-body experience. When you write a memoir, you are actively trying to unlock parts of your brain that you've shut off, particularly my one.
My memoir is purposefully traumatic for me. It was a really interesting experience of going to places that your brain has tried to forget, because they're bad memories that I've written for your enjoyment and my financial gain.
CMUA: Let’s embrace the trauma. What was your biggest comedy fail?
Pax: I was opening for Ewen Gilmour. I did so bad that someone walked on stage and tried to punch me in the face. That’s how bad at stand-up I was.
This was six months into my career, so it was a long time ago. A woman hated my stand-up so much that she tried to knock me out. I don’t think you can get any worse than that.
"A woman hated my stand-up so much that she tried to knock me out. I don’t think you can get any worse than that."
CMUA: Can you tell us about an unforgettable creative experience?
Pax: Right after I decided I wanted to be a stand-up comedian, I started writing comedy. It was atrocious comedy.
What makes that memory stick is that I genuinely loved that experience, and realised “this is what I want to do.” There’s an element of sadness to that. It took me 18 years to figure that out. But you know some people, it takes even longer. That was an amazing experience to find my thing.
CMUA: Does someone need to be an expert to find their thing?
Pax: You don't need to know anything. I think inherent in creativity and the process, creating whatever it is, whether it's writing stand-up or cooking something, is that the process of discovery is far more important than the creation of the thing. The active movement through the ups and the downs of the creation is the most valuable part.
If you come at something with no knowledge, you're geared to learn heaps. That’s the funnest part.
CMUA: What’s special about creating or going to a live performance?
Pax: Oh man, live is king. There is a magic when an entire room of strangers has the same experience as each other because of someone's performance, because of an emotion or a journey that a performer has taken a crowd on. It's unmatched. I would say that that exists in theatre, in stand-up, in all forms of live performance.
CMUA: What feelings do you want your audiences to take home?
Pax: Immense dread. An unshakable fear of the unknown.
Actually, I want them to feel what I'm feeling. A lot of the time I write stand-up from feelings. Instead of trying to think of funny bits, which I've done before, I try and write about what is frustrating me at this point in time. What am I excited about? What am I angry about? I want the audience to feel those feelings, but see them from my angle.
CMUA: What was your biggest win on stage?
Pax: The 2016 Comedy Gala. I did a bit about pretending to be Tongan, to run away from the stereotypes of being Middle Eastern. Going viral is not something I care about, but it was the first time that a bit of my stand-up reached a large audience.
People in Pacific communities were like, “I know my South Asian mate who is like that.” People of South Asian or Middle Eastern descent were like, “I do that.” It’s the truth in it that connected the hardest.
I would say it changed my career, that bit. I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.
CMUA: Is creativity good for us?
Pax: People think science is not creativity, like “creativity is this side: music and art and movies, that's creativity. Then this side is like maths and discovering science and stuff, and that's separate.” But it’s all one thing.
We’re the only living things on this planet that can discover more about ourselves and about the universe around us. Creativity is the vehicle that allows us to do that.
CMUA: What’s a creative moment that made us?
Pax: Che Fu. The Navigator is the best New Zealand album ever made. I listen to that album once a month from start to finish, and it's never bad. If you disagree, you’re wrong.
CMUA: Have you ever met Che Fu?Pax: I got to mentor his son as a stand-up comedian, which was crazy. The Comedy Festival ran this programme at schools all around Auckland. At the end of it, we did a showcase. I got to meet Che Fu briefly. He laughed at one of my jokes.
"We have a culture that sees creativity, art, and creation as important. That's huge."
CMUA: Do you think of Aotearoa as a creative country?
Pax: When people come to New Zealand as migrants, a lot are shocked at how much creativity is prioritised at school. I know my parents were like, “what is going on? Why are my kids doing so much art at school? Why isn't it just maths for eight hours?”
Sometimes we forget a lot of the world doesn't have the luxury that we have. We have a culture that sees creativity, art, and creation as important. That's huge. I'm really happy that I've grown up in that kind of space, and that my kids will grow up in that kind of space.