I've been having a good comedic run the past couple of days. I just had my birthday. I hosted a Monday show at Pinetree Lodge and did a set at Luca Lounge and they both went well. I had faith in my career again!
Then I did an open mic and things fell by the wayside. Basically the host told me not to curse or do anything illicit. WHAAA? Asking me to be clean is like having me do comedy with my mouth duct-taped shut. So I trying to work from 5 different notebooks of material, doing completely untested bit, half-aborted lines, and the like. Some of it flatlines, others hit--but at the end of the set I just felt like I'd been battered. And then the host goes, "Well we all falter but you need to practice more."
WTF? I came there with 5 minutes of all new stuff I wanted to work and I couldn't do any of it because of censorship. Then you tell me to whip up a squeaky clean set out of thin air--I can't do that. Moreover, I don't like vague unspecific advice. I've bombed before at much better places than a sparsely attended room. You tell me I need to "practice?!" Duh, that's why I'm at the open mic. Seriously, I'm not some walk-in off the street with low self-esteem and a baggy of cyanide! My God!
Okay...that was way too much anger. But you know, that's how I feel about comedy. It's like we're in a love-rape relationship. I want to romance it and it just wants to fuck me without a condom and then lose my number. Ugh--I'm going to shake it off as a low point and go forward. Sorry for the tirade.
TODAY--FRIDAY: Tompkins Square Park
I'm doing a set in Tompkins Square Park, bringing ha-has to the homeless and heroin-filled. It should be fun though. Check nylaughs.org for more info.
Other shows TBA, in a separate non-rage filled entry.
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