On the Jagger / Richards complex
and becoming myself again
Oh dear reader woe! Woe is me!
My problem?
I’ve spent t.me reconnecting with my primary addiction: performing.
And now that the season has come to an end, I feel like Mick and Keith and the boys.
That’s right. I can’t get no.
NO NO NO.
I’m like a starving horse. I can’t get no
hay hay hay.
But Mick and Keith can’t stop either.
The addiction is real.
And no, I’m not so like Keith that Ive tried to snort my father’s ashes. Though I’m sure
there is some sicki joke I could make about snorting a fireman’s ashes.
Heck, after 911 most of New York city was snorting fireman’s ashes among other things.
But there. That’s it. That’s what I want to do. That’s what I NEED to do. I need to test lines and limits. I need to do this in REAL TIME-In the here and Meow.
I need to perform comedy live and in the here and meow.
Because without it?
My god.
Though I’ve been” Fine”to be around? I’m miserable. I’m dying inside.
You see dear reader, at my core, I’m not a handyman, cyclist or troll writer. I am most certainly Neither a therapist Nor activist.
I’m a performer.
I’m a clown.
It’s not what I do. It’s in my bones. II’s who I am.
After more than a decade any from LIVE performing, working as a tour guide this summer I reconnected with the showman that I am.
I simply MUST perform.
But what? How, and for whom?
Getting an audience, growing one?
Thats always been a mystery to me.
On stage though?
I have mic techniques.
I know crowd work.
Ive hosted a lot.
My chops?
Pretty fucking good.
What Ive lacked as a performer dear reader is a belief in myself and the discipline needed for wild success.
But this story about “lack of discipline”?
That’s an old story that Ive told myself my whole life. Given that I can ride a bike 200 miles offroad, nonstop, and I have this almost five year old writing practice? Maybe that “old story “is no longer accurate.
So dear reader, I’ve introduced a new practice, some new discipline in my life.
I’m spending time writing jokes daily.
Just jokes.
Working with the dictionary of idioms, I’m writing jokes every day.
Soon? I’ll start testing them.
Jimmy Carr said that when Kevin Hart was writing his new show, he wrote over 10000 jokes in order to have 400 good ones for a one hour show.
That dear reader is a 96% failure rate.
Comedy, like most things, is 90% perspiration.
Lately, I’ve had a lot of lottery fantasies. Mostly they involve me making life more comfortable and secure for my family.
But if money were no object? If everything were taken care of and I no longer had that cognative load? All I would want to do is tell jokes and ride my bikes.
If I had all the wealth in the world?
I wouldnt fight for the planet or queer rights or Pal-a- stein. I really, at my core, do not give a SHIT. Not my fucking problem.
I’d tell jokes and make people laugh and avoid activists-just like I do right meow.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
But I like having a goal.
It’s good to have something to work toward.
And here’s my goal.
Winter of 2027?
One month in Austin-with jokes and discipline and a workman like attitude to perform at every open mic that I can.
And between noon and then?
Well, I’ve got a year to prepare, to train and to raise the capital required to get there.
And you dear reader?
Well, I’m going to involve you.
You’ll get a lot of the jokes and all of the behind
the scenes stories of a performer finding his way back where he belongs.
And?
I’ll likely ask for other help as well.
But we’ll get to that later.
In the meantime?
The old stories you tell yourself might change. you might discover that you’re less lazy and more disciplined than you imagined.
But some core truths about you might not.
Step into the light and take ALL of the focus you
glorious bastards.