on madness

Tuesday night someone asked me why I got into stand up in the first place.

It used to be easy to answer that. Making people laugh. Creating something. The challenge, the thrill. But at this point, he may as well have asked why I got into breathing or some such thing.

This is what I do, it's just that simple. It stops mattering why, it stops mattering where and when (as long as it's anywhere and soon), you don't worry about being rewarded financially or emotionally. You just do it.

Comedy is life, and life is hilarious. It's beautiful, and simple, and the rest is a backdrop. I need to sleep more, get a job, communicate better with others, exercise, be a better adult in general. But I've got this thing, these ideas and words and moments I replicate at least five times a week, and if you need to ask why, then it's probably not the thing for you.

This year I've made friends faster than I've ever made friends, because it's easier to talk to people if they live inside the same sort of madness that you do. And Austin, at least for these first six weeks, seems like city that doesn't need to ask me why.