My latest set from Milk Bar in San Francisco, CA. Performed on October 13, 2017.
Most weeks, I go to Coffee Shop in Walnut Creek, Calif. for their open mic. I enjoy the space because I get a chance to try new material, especially before taking it to comedy clubs and bars.
On this particular evening, I tried a new bit in my attempt to work out some identity issues I have.
I don’t have video, but I felt I wanted to share the audio. Enjoy if you choose to do so.
I have allowed my tendency toward cowardice to stop me for too long.
The Falcon (nee Hippo) and I moved back to Utah in January of 2012. Since that time, I performed stand-up comedy at Wiseguy’s in Trolley Square once. Only once! I am convinced I was waved off stage before my time was up and the set got few laughs, especially my convoluted joke about Superman, Green Lantern and Batman. (Hint: It ends on a pun that requires both knowledge of an SAT vocabulary word AND of Superman comic lore.)
I did go back to Wiseguy’s, but it had become a bringer open mic. This meant that everyone who brought paying customers was put on the priority list and anyone who did not was put on a back-up list. I walked out of the club with my name on the back-up list and have not been back.
At first I wallowed in righteous indignation. “How dare they ask me to bring paying customers? How dare this business attempt to thrive?”
Once I realized I was just making excuses, I continued to languish in fear and self-doubt.
Now, I have done research into other, more strictly open mic venues around town and am ready to get back out there. I have about a million jokes and an equal number of reasons to never step on stage again. All excuses. None real.
So, I steel my nerves because I crave the inimitable feeling of holding a microphone in my hand and speaking into it, my voice coming from the club speakers. The fear, the agony, the failure and the success. It all begins again now.
Next stop is Comedy Roadkill at The Complex.
25 July 2011
I have a palpable sense of pre-precipice-ness.
I am dreadfully frightened of being a successful comic. I know I can make people laugh and I have something to say, but I am afraid I will be fully successful and step out over that entertainment cliff and free-fall with no safety net pattern.
Today, I finally watched the documentary American: The Bill Hicks Story. Watching his passionate, inspired and scathing performances make me feel my comedy is insignificant. I have imaginary friends, pop culture references and nerd-friendly puns. Such a routine is not life-altering or brilliant or even inspired.
I went to the Arlington Cinema & Drafthouse over two months ago to sign up for their open mic stand-up night. I got on the list, but was too far down to perform. I have not been back yet. I was primed to jump off the diving board once, but now I’m looking over the edge and afraid to go again.
If you are reading this, I promise to start going to open mic nights and trying out new material.
I promise to go out and find my voice and jump off the cliff.