stretching myself thin

holy.

fucking.

shit.

so i haven’t been posting on this blog as often as i wanted to, but it’s not for lack of trying.

and it’s not for lack of action.

last i wrote was after the roast of adolf hitler.

well several open mics and the roast of my good friend sean riccio later, i just feel so exhausted.

for fucks sake, i really haven’t wrote any new stand up material.

since the last post i have been climbing up the step stool of knoxville comedy.

i have been given some amazing opportunities as of late and they’re all starting to wear on my psyche.

it’s not that i don’t feel prepared for them, it’s just that it feels like i bit off way more than i could chew and now it’s starting to show.

such as tonight, i will be training to take over as the quizmaster at geeks who drink at a local pub.

tomorrow night i temporarily take over hosting duties at old city comedy.

coming up i will be the man of the hour at the roast of santa claus.

all the while actually having to turn down other opportunities that might regale me with instant gratification, in favor of more long term endeavors.

all the while some how managing to survive on the pocket change i make at my “job.”

but it’s amazing.

i don’t care how little money i’m left with at the end of the week.

i don’t care about how little sleep i get because the shows keep coming.

people are looking at me.

people are noticing me.

and that is worth more to me than any gold that could be offered.

i’m learning things about the world i live in and about myself.

that’s more valuable than any shiny ass piece of shitty carbon you can dig out of kenya.

a change of pace

last night i performed as Winston Churchill and Knox Comedy Live’s Roast of Hitler.

it was an experience that i will always remember.

stepping out of myself again and into a character is a beautiful thing.

cathartic, relaxing, it’s zen.

i’m sure from an economic standpoint the show was a bit of a failure.

the overall turnout was dismal.

but its events like this, where we get to just play around, that remind me that the Knox Comedy family was the greatest thing that ever found me.

i feel like i lost my way a few times during the performance; my accent kept shifting around, i dropped my cane midway through the set, but the material was solid.

i have to keep reminding myself that this is where it pays to rehearse.

i have to treat comedy like a job.

the best fucking job ever, but a job none the less.

practice,

practice,

practice…

a fish out of water

albert einstein once said “if you judge a fish by it’s ability to climb trees, it will spend it’s entire life believing itself a failure.”

and i have lived by this philosophy for the majority of my life.

i know the perils of trying to compete with people on their own terms,  it’s nigh impossible.

and so far i’ve been able to outswim the other minnows in my small little comedy bowl of knoxville.

tonight, i witnessed a shark.

a great white, motherfucking shark, with the world’s tiniest penis.

Derek Sheen was a fucking professional.

in the ways that jean reno is a mother fucking professional.

he was a limbered up lion of an urban savannah and we all were his fucking prey.

he was fearless, he was on point, his tempo was exact, his execution was flawless.

i was in absolute awe.

not in the “Dude, that Cheeseburger was Awesome” version of Awe.

no, fuck that right in it’s frat-tastic little faggot of an ass.

this was grade a, trumpets sounding the apocalypse, rivers of blood, awe inspiring awe.

i was humbled to have opened the night.

but looking back i can’t believe i even dared to go up.

the host set it up as a crescendo to the apex.

Derek was the headliner and was worth far more than whatever they might have offered him as a peace offering to perform for us peons.

and the open-mic list that preceded him was a symphony, gradually raising the bar with skill and talent to prepare the audience for the climax.

and i was the first name for a fucking reason.

they’ll say it was a tough crowd, they’ll say they hadn’t been warmed up yet.

i’ll tell them all they are fucking liars.

i wasn’t prepared at all to go up there and open for the comics that followed me.

i hastily rehashed shitty one-liners and unpolished crap like it had an expiration date and needed to be thrown out.

i acted like i was the one everyone came to see.

like my sorry, pathetic sack of rat cocks of a flabby fuck just showing up would have been enough to placate the entire building.

what a piece of shit.

what a piece of fucking shit i am.

to think that i was what was important.

yes i have to speak what’s on my mind, yes i have to overcome my fears and get on a stage.

but i’m not there for me.

i’m there for the audience.

i need to get over myself.

and give them what they expect.

all of me.

standing in the shoes of giants

this past sunday was a very enlightening experience.
it was a local halloween show that we hold every year.
as part of the halloween vibe, we all chose a comic of legend and portray them on stage.
so that for halloween, everyone gets to see Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Bill Hicks, Steven Wright, Cheech and Chong, David Cross, Jimmy Carr instead of the normal fare of open-micers.
even if it is just us open-micers impersonating them
i chose Sam Kinison.
i made this decision out of one part reverence for the icon, the myth, the legend that was Sam Kinison.
and one part, because i don’t really find him funny.
Sam Kinison came from a time when bigotry was fashionable.
racism, sexism, homophobia were not only tolerated but encouraged.
and most of Kinison’s comedy came from the fact that he was a raging asshole who had a howl that shook the walls.
i don’t like that approach.
i don’t want to be that aggressive.
so of course it was perfect.
the goal for me with this performance was to do the things i don’t want to do.
to push my own boundaries as well as others.
it was a cathartic experience like no other.
i didn’t have to be scared about being offensive.
i didn’t have to worry about pushing the wrong buttons.
that was kinison.
that was someone else.
and when i hit that stage, i was possessed.
i said things that i could never have said.
i did things i could never have done.
all because it wasn’t me holding the microphone.
but it came at a price.
it may have been Kinison’s skin i was wearing.
but they were my words coming out.
my words, my ideas, my soul.
pouring out of someone else’s mouth.
it reminded me just how terrified i am behind the microphone to just be myself.
that the only way i could be myself on stage, was to be anyone but me.
i am my own worst enemy.
my toughest audience.
and i need to kick my own ass.

thoughts from a boat on a river somewhere.

i did it!
well, i mean, i didn’t.
but i did!
does that make sense?
last friday was a milestone for me, as i was invited to participate as a last minute decision on the Star of Knoxville River Boat on the Halloween Booze Cruise.
it’s not much in the grand scheme of things.
but it’s a start.
it was the first time i have ever been paid more than a slice of pizza and a beer for performing comedy.
it was the first time that not only do i think i have what it takes to be a comedian.
but someone else thought i had what it takes and that it was worth their time to have me on the stage.
it’s a feeling that can’t be described, only experienced.

but the last thing i can do is stop here.
there’s no turning back now.

this is the beginning

i am a comedian.

ok… well i’m still just an open-mic’er

but i want to be a comedian.

i love the art, the rhythm, the invasion of the individual’s comfort zone.

i love the applause.

it’s an addiction i can’t shake.

i always knew deep inside that no matter what job i had, that i would never really fit in.

for the most part it’s been true,

i’ve drug my knuckles at gas stations, severed fingers in sandwich shops, been sued at tax offices, fixed computers for imbeciles, laid concrete while mexicans laughed, and crawled under houses laying duct work.

and no matter where i am, i never feel at home.

the world is as strange and beautiful as it is terrifying and horrific.

and i want to experience it and share my experiences with others through a microphone.

i’ve always wanted to tell stories.

to make people question the world they live in.

to make people question themselves.

and now there seems to be an outlet for that and i want to pursue it.

i know it’s not going to be easy.

i know it’s going to be a battle to prove myself as someone worth listening to.

but god fucking dammit i am going to do it.

this is the beginning.

and it’s all uphill from here.