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.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
on Austin (month one)
I got here a month and two days ago. Let's bullet point my new life:
-Austin has a lot of comedy. And a lot of comedians. Lots of them are super-talented, nearly all of them are super-nice. There are open mics every night but Sunday, there are showcases all over, there are sketch groups and Improv theaters and underground happenings, and this is all in an incredibly hot July- without the vast majority of the UT-Austin students in town to attend things. I am excited for the future.
-Austin is HOT. This is obvious, I know. But it is extreme. August has come sweltering in at 107 every day.
-Austin is geographically odd- it is kind of a grid, but turned 45 degrees. And there are no hard and fast rules within the grid- the numbered streets are sometimes skipped (and there's random half streets, like "38 1/2"), and are arbitrarily switched from East to West several blocks from I-35. I-35 is nonsensically zippered into an above ground expresslane that does nothing to alleviate rush hour gridlock. Everybody drives everywhere here, and you have to learn to be a lot more agressive.
-I've made 42 new Austin-based facebook friends. I think that is equivalent to at least 7 real-life friends.
-I've been doing so much comedy, I have barely had a chance to get into everything this city has to offer- live music, the natural springs you swim in, bats (apparently). But honestly I'm fine waiting until it's not still 90 degrees at midnight to discover the nightlife.
-August looks to be even better- a solid job prospect, a paying comedy gig (!), and another project on the horizon that cold be the most important thing I've ever been a part of. Sorry to be cryptic, but this is what the internet is for.
-Austin has a lot of comedy. And a lot of comedians. Lots of them are super-talented, nearly all of them are super-nice. There are open mics every night but Sunday, there are showcases all over, there are sketch groups and Improv theaters and underground happenings, and this is all in an incredibly hot July- without the vast majority of the UT-Austin students in town to attend things. I am excited for the future.
-Austin is HOT. This is obvious, I know. But it is extreme. August has come sweltering in at 107 every day.
-Austin is geographically odd- it is kind of a grid, but turned 45 degrees. And there are no hard and fast rules within the grid- the numbered streets are sometimes skipped (and there's random half streets, like "38 1/2"), and are arbitrarily switched from East to West several blocks from I-35. I-35 is nonsensically zippered into an above ground expresslane that does nothing to alleviate rush hour gridlock. Everybody drives everywhere here, and you have to learn to be a lot more agressive.
-I've made 42 new Austin-based facebook friends. I think that is equivalent to at least 7 real-life friends.
-I've been doing so much comedy, I have barely had a chance to get into everything this city has to offer- live music, the natural springs you swim in, bats (apparently). But honestly I'm fine waiting until it's not still 90 degrees at midnight to discover the nightlife.
-August looks to be even better- a solid job prospect, a paying comedy gig (!), and another project on the horizon that cold be the most important thing I've ever been a part of. Sorry to be cryptic, but this is what the internet is for.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
on Milwaukee
In August of 1998 I moved to Milwaukee right before my freshman year of high school. The city greeted me with rain- the basement window-wells overflowed and seeped into my new room. My rug was ruined, some of my books, and I was bitter and lonely and anxious about starting over.
High school was a controlled exercise in learning to speak. By senior year I was on yearbook, in clubs, had friends and all. I got a little too confident in my ability to start over, went far away for college, and immediately flamed out.
This city welcomed me back. The Oriental theatre took me to other places, grew my love of film into an obsession. I learned the pot-holes, the freeway exits, the one-way streets, the feeling in the air before the snow, the honest work of shoveling snow, the right times to avoid the lakefront smells.
Milwauke waited patiently for me to lose my way, and find it again in my friends and on comedy stages. I'll always love it, and after being uprooted twice in my earlier years, it's more than earned the right to be the response when people ask me where I'm from.
But the open road awaits, as it always did and always will. I won't miss the winter, and I won't miss the mistakes I made, all the time I spent sitting still.
I'll miss the people, the person I became. I'll miss the mild summers and the rain.
Goodbye.
High school was a controlled exercise in learning to speak. By senior year I was on yearbook, in clubs, had friends and all. I got a little too confident in my ability to start over, went far away for college, and immediately flamed out.
This city welcomed me back. The Oriental theatre took me to other places, grew my love of film into an obsession. I learned the pot-holes, the freeway exits, the one-way streets, the feeling in the air before the snow, the honest work of shoveling snow, the right times to avoid the lakefront smells.
Milwauke waited patiently for me to lose my way, and find it again in my friends and on comedy stages. I'll always love it, and after being uprooted twice in my earlier years, it's more than earned the right to be the response when people ask me where I'm from.
But the open road awaits, as it always did and always will. I won't miss the winter, and I won't miss the mistakes I made, all the time I spent sitting still.
I'll miss the people, the person I became. I'll miss the mild summers and the rain.
Goodbye.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
on renewal
I am on a trip right now. I went to Georgia to watch my cousin get married and then to Austin, to scout it out two weeks before the big move south.
So everything I do seems primed with significance, symbolic in some way. I helped drive down to GA with my parents, but I didn't use cruise control because I don't like what it says about me metaphorically.
Saturday afternoon I sat out by the pool, my eyes readjusting to the light extremely slowly (due to the eighteen months, just ended, working third shift), and I was reminded of myself in the sunshine. I now have, thanks to a pale Irish complexion and a spotty job applying SPF 50, spots of severe sunburn that will soon start to peel, revealing the new me underneath.
I wore one shirt to the wedding itself saturday, changed into a different one for the reception, and finally a t-shirt for the casual, post-reception hour. The bride's side of the family, with only broad visual cues to go on, might've thought that I returned a different person each time.
That's the beauty of being conscious beings, I suppose: we can always reinvent ourselves (ants probably just have to keep being ants). In theory, I can get used to the dry heat (103 F right now) and the one way streets and everything, but I have to avoid old patterns and old cowardice. It's only day one, but I'm still raring to change my diet and cut my hair (soon, I can feel it) and pour myself into a different way of seeing things.
So everything I do seems primed with significance, symbolic in some way. I helped drive down to GA with my parents, but I didn't use cruise control because I don't like what it says about me metaphorically.
Saturday afternoon I sat out by the pool, my eyes readjusting to the light extremely slowly (due to the eighteen months, just ended, working third shift), and I was reminded of myself in the sunshine. I now have, thanks to a pale Irish complexion and a spotty job applying SPF 50, spots of severe sunburn that will soon start to peel, revealing the new me underneath.
I wore one shirt to the wedding itself saturday, changed into a different one for the reception, and finally a t-shirt for the casual, post-reception hour. The bride's side of the family, with only broad visual cues to go on, might've thought that I returned a different person each time.
That's the beauty of being conscious beings, I suppose: we can always reinvent ourselves (ants probably just have to keep being ants). In theory, I can get used to the dry heat (103 F right now) and the one way streets and everything, but I have to avoid old patterns and old cowardice. It's only day one, but I'm still raring to change my diet and cut my hair (soon, I can feel it) and pour myself into a different way of seeing things.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
on music
Music is as close to religion as I'll ever get. Those moments, seeing a live band, blasting the speakers in your car, your feet moving on their own, the world narrowing to a sunset or the hand you're holding or the memory that that song takes you back to, those are the best kinds of moments.
I sing constantly, and I hear melodies in my head, but I never had the patience or the self-motivation to learn an instrument. Words are the only thing I can manipulate with any aplomb (landing a line the right way on stage is rapidly nearing a religious experience as well), but it's harder to get that swelling of the score, that cinematic epic profundity that the best songs can instantly lend things.
In less than a month, I'm packing everything I have into my car and taking a two-day drive south, and I'm crossing my fingers that my cd player doesn't malfunction. I think I might waste a little money on CD-Rs and make 24-hours worth of mixes so I don't repeat, each song corresponding to a mile. I'm open to suggestions. Your favorite road trip music.
Because if you want to reach for those moments, you're going to need a soundtrack. I see the entire population of people with earbuds, presumably people who need music as much as I do, but it's only a small percentage that play air guitar and mouth the words and dance as they walk.
Maybe those people have actual religion.
I sing constantly, and I hear melodies in my head, but I never had the patience or the self-motivation to learn an instrument. Words are the only thing I can manipulate with any aplomb (landing a line the right way on stage is rapidly nearing a religious experience as well), but it's harder to get that swelling of the score, that cinematic epic profundity that the best songs can instantly lend things.
In less than a month, I'm packing everything I have into my car and taking a two-day drive south, and I'm crossing my fingers that my cd player doesn't malfunction. I think I might waste a little money on CD-Rs and make 24-hours worth of mixes so I don't repeat, each song corresponding to a mile. I'm open to suggestions. Your favorite road trip music.
Because if you want to reach for those moments, you're going to need a soundtrack. I see the entire population of people with earbuds, presumably people who need music as much as I do, but it's only a small percentage that play air guitar and mouth the words and dance as they walk.
Maybe those people have actual religion.
Friday, June 3, 2011
on enthusiasm
I've embraced having fun lately. There was a time that irony, cynicism had a romantic appeal.
But they weren't as much FUN, dammit. For some reason there's a prevalent sentiment in our culture, at least the sort of hipster pop culture to which I ascribe, that associates enjoying oneself with simple-mindedness. The implication is that critical thinking leads directly to disappointment, to the prominent noticing of flaws.
But that's just not true. I got wired back in march and wrote a long thing on facebook about how stand up comedy, for me, became so much more invigorating when I stopped approaching things by saying "you know what I hate?" and went with "you know what's absurd, and thus funny?"- the same is true for EVERYTHING.
I'm not perfect. Far from it. Admitting that makes it hard to hold it against the rest of the world. There are ironies, there's cruelty, there's bleakness and despair. And in a way, kneejerk snarkiness was a way of avoiding those depths for me for a long time.
But that's just treading water to avoid drowning. I'm going to laugh to myself loudly in restaurants, play the air guitar to my earphones in public places, say the first things that come to mind, drink some but not too much, be vulnerable, seek out the people and places that make me happy, make those people laugh and those places feel like home, and I'm only going to go diving to the murky depths of the middle of the loneliest nights when I have to, when it's healthy.
In the meantime, I hope to see you on the shore.
But they weren't as much FUN, dammit. For some reason there's a prevalent sentiment in our culture, at least the sort of hipster pop culture to which I ascribe, that associates enjoying oneself with simple-mindedness. The implication is that critical thinking leads directly to disappointment, to the prominent noticing of flaws.
But that's just not true. I got wired back in march and wrote a long thing on facebook about how stand up comedy, for me, became so much more invigorating when I stopped approaching things by saying "you know what I hate?" and went with "you know what's absurd, and thus funny?"- the same is true for EVERYTHING.
I'm not perfect. Far from it. Admitting that makes it hard to hold it against the rest of the world. There are ironies, there's cruelty, there's bleakness and despair. And in a way, kneejerk snarkiness was a way of avoiding those depths for me for a long time.
But that's just treading water to avoid drowning. I'm going to laugh to myself loudly in restaurants, play the air guitar to my earphones in public places, say the first things that come to mind, drink some but not too much, be vulnerable, seek out the people and places that make me happy, make those people laugh and those places feel like home, and I'm only going to go diving to the murky depths of the middle of the loneliest nights when I have to, when it's healthy.
In the meantime, I hope to see you on the shore.
Friday, May 27, 2011
on pop culture
Reference humor is very much like the weather in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It waltzes capriciously from one extreme to another, it knows no historical precedent. There's no formula to predict it.
I see movies constantly, watch my share of television. I keep abreast of things on the internet, which itself is a more insular place than it seems like from the inside. But there's no way of knowing, even given a crowd's median age, wardrobe, or the venue they inhabit, what avenues of mass media they'll follow you down on any given night.
Case in point- I have a joke, really the only survivor from my early days, which prominently involves Wham! that never seems to be too old for anyone- 80's references in general seem an easier bet than nearly any other decade, seemingly an entire ten years laced with a perfect mix of irony and nostalgia. I was born in 1984 myself, I remember absolutely none of it, pop-culture-wise.
I've worked in libraries and stayed tuned into to bestselling fiction for most of my adult life, thus I have a Nicholas Sparks joke that can be very hit or miss. Sometimes, in the right crowd, I replace it with a Twilight joke which is more universal (but the punchline itself is less biting. It needs work.).
Movies I reference constantly, but even there, even the hugest movies aren't always familiar ground. I had an Avatar joke that never really caught on for me- I think it might be because, despite the big numbers, the majority of people saw it once and moved on with our lives. I do a somewhat involved bit about The Matrix (it's about the déjà vu cat) that does pretty well- because even though it was an R-rated release over a decade ago, everyone's seen it more than twice by now.
It's a challenge that I relish- it makes consuming new art and media exciting. Even if I see a film and find it terrible, it still means I've punched a lottery ticket for my favorite drawing anywhere.
I see movies constantly, watch my share of television. I keep abreast of things on the internet, which itself is a more insular place than it seems like from the inside. But there's no way of knowing, even given a crowd's median age, wardrobe, or the venue they inhabit, what avenues of mass media they'll follow you down on any given night.
Case in point- I have a joke, really the only survivor from my early days, which prominently involves Wham! that never seems to be too old for anyone- 80's references in general seem an easier bet than nearly any other decade, seemingly an entire ten years laced with a perfect mix of irony and nostalgia. I was born in 1984 myself, I remember absolutely none of it, pop-culture-wise.
I've worked in libraries and stayed tuned into to bestselling fiction for most of my adult life, thus I have a Nicholas Sparks joke that can be very hit or miss. Sometimes, in the right crowd, I replace it with a Twilight joke which is more universal (but the punchline itself is less biting. It needs work.).
Movies I reference constantly, but even there, even the hugest movies aren't always familiar ground. I had an Avatar joke that never really caught on for me- I think it might be because, despite the big numbers, the majority of people saw it once and moved on with our lives. I do a somewhat involved bit about The Matrix (it's about the déjà vu cat) that does pretty well- because even though it was an R-rated release over a decade ago, everyone's seen it more than twice by now.
It's a challenge that I relish- it makes consuming new art and media exciting. Even if I see a film and find it terrible, it still means I've punched a lottery ticket for my favorite drawing anywhere.
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