And Away We Go

I'm heading out of town for a week, off to sunny Cabo San Lucas. I'm looking forward to it in ways I can't even explain. Especially since this past week has been worthy of launching myself out of Seattle for some respite from. I have a gig the night after I get back, a paying, fancy, corporate holiday party gig so who knows what I'll be like after a week off-stage? It'll be fun, though. Some jokes you only have to tell once a week to keep them polished, but there is a lot of new stuff that the company wants me to work in to the performance. I'm whoring, a little, but it's also a personal challenge for me that I get to step on stage with material formulated specifically for a company, to hone in on their culture and people, as well as be able to do my own act. It's hard enough writing from thin air sometimes, but tailoring an act around a central theme, in this case, "Clothing For Cats," is a challenge as well as a creativity primer.

I'm trying to not be too exacting in writing lately. Some people can sit and pour over jokes that are written out and refine and juggle them, but I can only take that so far. The funniest and most powerful I've ever felt on stage is when I'm shooting from the hip, letting whatever's inside just come out. There's nothing rehearsed, and the audience knows that, and it is rather exhilirating for everyone in attendance. I can see the words flashing across my mind in slow motion, mileposts I connect with other terms and phrases, like the funniest words stick out and my senses guide me there. Then after my set I usually end up taking the mask off the severed head and see my own face there. Or was that in "Empire?" Maybe "Jedi," but "Empire" is still the best.

You can never really plan for what's going to happen at a comedy show. All you can do, as a comic, is be open to experiencing the middle ground you meet the audience on. Ego often forces a comic to stand in front of a cold room and deliver joke after joke without getting so much as a nose whistle. Ever feel like that? Like you're in line and the brat taking your order is throwing attitude so you're like "F*ck you, here's my order, it's your job to take it" and the whole thing leaves you feeling a little worse? That's what it's like for a comic to bomb and yet keep pushing on with the act. It's okay to break your character and tell the audience to loosen up, to ask what's wrong, to direct the funny back on them instead of on your problems. They need some levity, too, or your nachos are going to be topped with whatever was in the dustpan... if you're lucky.

Stay flexible, that's what I'm saying. Whether on stage or a yoga mat or yet another witness stand, gotta stay flexible. I say this while staunchly defending my position that if you cross a certain decibel level in the work place you should disciplined ass-wise with a proper caning. My hypocrisy is perhaps someone else's opportunity to be flexible.

I am the F*CK out of here. Have a good week. Via con Dios.

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