Backing Up

It's been a while since I was regularly on-stage. I don't really know why, but I can easily misdirect any number of reasons to my job, my disinterest in my act, being wiped-out, lacking a stage-hunger, being happy, or any combination of those. There's something lacking in the FIRE department, wherein most of my act should be scrapped while I build up something meatier, more reflective of my attitude towards society. At least the parts that most folks wouldn't label as racist.


After headlining in December, I decided a lot of my material just isn't fun to do, or should be more deeply extrapolated, if not looked into further. I think extrapolated is a great word. Recently I went to a chiropractor for the knot in my back and the displacement of my hips. Turns out that sitting on a wallet for 25 years has pushed my right hip forward and under. It's a half-inch lower than my left hip, causing some issues that include tingling in my leg, a strained right erectus muscle in my back, and mild bigotry. Pain can push us to horrible places. Pile that on top of all the stuff in the first paragraph, and you can start to see why I don't hit the Tuesday night bierhaus shows for 5 minutes between the 2 guys who just broke up with non-existent girlfriends and smoked pot at their sister's wedding.
NOT
INTERESTED


So now I have 3 weeks of shows to handle. Feature work, headline work, and a headline gig at a bar. 2 clubs, one bar, one private show. Mostly I am at the point that the best thing for me is to stop relying on material that works and just let-fly with what I want to do. This of course is the same for Life, overanalyzing every little move to the point that I ruin my Gavin chinos instead of just going into the open stall and gettin' some Tank time. Drop that shit, kid, you have LIFE to do. And a big part of my life is stand-up comedy.


So as I look forward to, and at, the next 10 shows I hope to get some new material to share as it goes along. This includes being able to just go in and riff and be loose and let whatever happens, happen. Being tired, happy, and sore is how much of my life has gone. It's part of the gig. And I have learned to embrace the moments of calmly explaining to people why they are fucking up the process for everyone else. If we let ONE person bring their dog into the store, soon we have to let EVERY Eastern Bloc trashbag bring their Mastiff-boxer mix into Babies R Us, or else it's discrimination. People are not generally good, people are generally BORING. And many of them are decent. But those that stand out are either attractive or annoying as shit. And that's where my comedy comes from. I know I can be that annoying. I just have to try harder.

So really, what I am saying for now is that I am maxed out. I can't take on any more work from the day job. I can't do any more work in comedy. I am at the mercy of a changing, incommunicative bus system (and a socially retarded driver on the 7:23 255 route), and basically unable to do anything more than make money and not power-drink at the bus stops. I am doing all I can to find time to work out to keep the nervous energy low(ish), and operating on adrenaline and the love of/from my family and friends. Without those cornerstones (Love, Effort, Faith, Chocolate), this isn't a workhouse, it's a tent in the wind.


This was pointless. What a crybaby I am.


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