Shitty night for comedy. But I guess a shitty night for comedy is better than most nights without it.
I’m pissed at myself, man. I let my life get in the way. My personal shit. Fuck me.
What Went Wrong
I’m getting really comfortable on just about any stage. Well, I don’t know about that. I’m comfortable with the three stages I hit a lot – pretty comfortable there. I can walk in, just get on, not a problem.
But tonight? I didn’t hit my time. Fucking didn’t hit it at all.
I had the minute in my head. I knew what I was going to do. Had it all set up. And I just didn’t do it.
Fuck me.
Black Charles even called me out – “you’re a minute short.” And I’m like, fuck. That’s fucking rude to a host. I want to apologize.
I hope he knows.
The Personal Shit
I had some shit I’m dealing with. I don’t care what anybody says about it – I’m gonna fucking do it with grace and dignity for everybody involved. If that means I have to wait a little longer, take a little more time doing the shit, then that’s what it fucking is.
I can’t do it any other way. It’s not me.
I can’t rug pull. I can’t do that shit. I have to untie cleanly.
Every relationship that I’ve ended – well, not every. There’s a couple I regret. Talked to my therapist about this today.
But the ones I’ve done right? I feel good about my actions.
I’m worried about my friend Tracy. I hope she’s gonna be okay. I mean, I know she’s gonna be okay.
Man. What a beautiful fucking life we have. Just cluttered and messy.
Why I Went Tonight
I wrote Tuesday that I wasn’t gonna do any comedy this week. But I had a bad week.
I wasn’t gonna do comedy tonight because I was gonna go to group. But I had a bad week.
And here’s the thing – it’s so fucking funny, the synergies in life.
I talked to my therapist about group versus going out. And she said I don’t have to go to group anymore.
She said I could if I want to. But it’s not serving me.
We were just talking about it and she looked at me and goes, “There’s your answer.”
Because literally, when I was talking about going to group, I was down in the dumps. Like, man, I like a lot of the people there, but fuck is the energy shitty. Sometimes it’s just fucking heavy fucking energy. I like some of the people, but not all of them. Most of them I could give a fuck about. Some of them are really good people, though.
It just hurts. But it’s not serving me.
I have no desire to drink at all. I’ve never… I mean, I’ve had every trigger there is now.
I can’t imagine there’s a trigger on the planet that’s going to get me to drink.
So I don’t need group anymore. But we agreed we would check in every month with the therapist and talk about group, at least for the next year.
So that freed me up. That’s why I was at Helium tonight instead of group.
Because the answer is obvious: Why would you not want to go to group? Because I have an opportunity to be at Helium, and that opportunity doesn’t always exist. Stages don’t always exist.
I can’t just have stages ready for me whenever I want. Even if I do – like, I know I got good chances of getting on at Helium – going there is beneficial to me, my career, my son. The more stage time I get, the better I am at this stuff, the better I can teach, the faster I can grow, the faster I can do everything.
But forget all the good business reasons.
The real reason? I was down talking about group and up talking about comedy.
There’s your answer.
And I Still Called It In
So all that. All that freedom. All that alignment. My therapist releasing me from group. Everything lining up.
And I still fucking called it in tonight.
What the fuck, dude?
I felt too comfortable. I lost tonight, man. Not because I got in my head. I was ready to get on stage. I was in the right mindset. Everything.
And I got out there and I don’t know what the fuck happened.
I called it in.
I won’t do that again.
The Missing Piece
I know what I’m missing. Okay. I’ve got it.
Since I’ve been writing the book, I’ve not been scheduling any time to write comedy specifically.
I’ve been doing a lot of flow riding of comedy, and I like it, but it doesn’t produce good punchlines. It’s kind of just like flow talking and shit, which is cool, but I don’t know if I can always pull that off.
And that’s not the kind of comedy I really enjoy anyway. Just a guy up there fucking talking about shit – mental masturbation. The punchlines and the zingers and the tension building, that’s the fun stuff.
I had a bunch of lines I want to fucking work on that I want to try. I haven’t figured out how to try them yet. And I had great opportunities tonight to fucking do it.
Fuck.
I need to write some stuff down. I’m not gonna be able to keep it all in my head anymore.
The Fix
Next week’s Thanksgiving, so there won’t be any mics Thursday night anyway.
I’ll work on trying to figure out a better schedule so I can write on the book, do the programming, and write comedy. Maybe give them different days. I don’t know.
But I need dedicated time for comedy writing. Not just flow. Actual punchline construction. Tension building. The craft.
Because comfort is dangerous. Getting comfortable on stages is good. Getting too comfortable and calling it in? That’s how you disrespect the host, the audience, and yourself.
What I’m Learning
We got some good fucking comics in town, man. Yeah, we do.
We’re gonna get some shit going. I’m wrapping up these last couple projects. The contest – I can start coding that in the next couple days. New hats being thrown in the ring. Getting new work. Some cool fucking first-of-its-kind work.
But none of that matters if I’m calling it in on stage.
Freedom from group doesn’t mean shit if I’m not using that freedom to do better work.
All the alignment in the world doesn’t matter if I’m too comfortable to push myself.
I had a rough fucking day. Personal shit happening. Worried about a friend. Dealing with relationship stuff with grace and dignity.
And although fucked up, that feels good. Handling things cleanly feels good.
But calling it in on stage? That feels like shit.
The Commitment
I won’t do that again.
I’ll schedule dedicated comedy writing time. I’ll push myself even when I’m comfortable. I’ll hit my fucking time.
I’ll respect the host, the stage, the opportunity that I now have every Thursday because my therapist released me from group.
Because a shitty night for comedy is better than most nights without it. But that doesn’t mean I get to be shitty AT comedy.
I can do better. I will do better.
Good night. I love you all.
What do you think – have you ever gotten so comfortable you called it in? And how do you push yourself when everything’s aligned but you’re coasting?
