Life’s hard.
Which is fucking weird.
I didn’t ask for half the shit I’m trying to climb out of, and now that I’m out, it feels like people want me back in it. Whole thing feels suffocating.
Today’s a big anniversary. Top five most important days of my life.
Bittersweet.
The relationship ended a long time ago, but being legally unbound… it’s just sad.
This too shall pass.
Fox 2 News came to the gym this morning. Did a whole segment. Very “local fluff piece” vibe, but Brittany the host was great and I think I held it together.
From TV to the Funny Bone.
Purple Quarters was dark tonight. Fourth week showing up at Funny Bone, and I finally got on.
Ran a whole new material lineup.
The AI psychosis and autism bit landed:
“Got diagnosed with autism… when I went in for AI psychosis.”
People laughed.
That one’s got legs. Solid three-minute bit.
I need to pick my three minutes for Orlando.
Thinking Broke Ass Bitch. It’s the biggest laugh I’ve been getting.
Could roll it into the Waymo bit if I need to stretch it.
Steve’s loved it the other night. One strong bit can carry three minutes if it hits right.
Finally figured out the Funny Bone stage.
Not bumping into the back wall anymore.
More comfortable being close to the crowd.
Better body management. Nervous system under control.
But I need to work on filling weird amounts of time.
Lately they’ve had out-of-town comics in, so they’ve been adjusting the lights — first light at two minutes instead of three, red at 3:30 instead of five.
I can hit the first light, wrap my current bit. But I’m struggling with those odd 30-second gaps.
Everything I’ve practiced is in full-minute blocks.
And if I can’t fill time on the fly at an open mic…
How can they trust me to host when someone has a seizure or spills a drink?
Someone actually had a seizure at boxing a couple weeks ago.
You gotta be able to hold the room when everything breaks.
There’s a lot of good in my life right now.
And a lot of bad.
And I don’t get to pick one.
Lost my wife.
Losing time with my son.
Getting sued for a massive amount of money over pure nonsense.
People acting like they had something they never had.
But I’m still on stage.
Still working new material.
Still managing my nervous system.
Still learning to fill time with my voice — not just punchlines.
Part of therapy now is sitting with what I feel.
Part of this project is writing about what it means to become a comedian — for real.
Not the highlight reel. The actual grind. The nights that suck.
Tonight sucked.
But I got on.
Fourth week in a row.
New material worked.
Fox 2 in the morning, Funny Bone at night.
Maybe next time, when I see the light and I’ve got 30 seconds left,
I’ll just talk.
No jokes.
Just presence.
That’s comedy when everything else is falling apart.
