August 26, 2025
Another night, another mic. But tonight was different, and not just because they threw us a curveball with 8-minute sets instead of the usual shorter spots.
I rolled up to The Funny Bone first—had to show up to keep my streak alive. See, they’ve got this system where you have to sign up four weeks in a row, and on that fifth week you’re guaranteed a spot. Can’t reset that cycle, so I had to be there. But honestly? I was hoping NOT to get called up so I could slide over to Purple Quarters.
And that’s exactly what happened. Didn’t get picked at The Funny Bone, which made me happy as hell because Purple Quarters has this relaxed vibe I was craving. I wanted to just connect with the crowd, no structure, no safety net. Just pure riffing and whatever happens, happens.
Purple Quarters threw the curveball though—eight minutes. That’s what they gave everybody. And I had two choices: play it safe with my rehearsed Georgia jail bit coupled with the Joe Pokemon material, or roll the dice and try to riff through the whole thing. I decided to give myself options—keep both bits in my back pocket but go up there and just… let it flow.
The Transcendence Problem
Here’s where shit gets weird, and I’m going to use the only language I have for what I experience up there. When I start getting excited about certain topics—especially the AI stuff that’s so fucking close to me—something happens. I transcend. That’s the only word I have for it.
My mind and body separate. The voice in my head that I know is “me” goes somewhere else entirely, and my body just… talks. It’s not the same as the dark place I go during severe pain or loneliness—that place I call “the bulk” where everything goes blank. This is different. This feels like play, like exploration, like my consciousness is taking a little vacation while my body handles business.
But I want to stay tethered. I want to stay present and feel everything in real time because that’s part of this whole journey—being alive in the moment, experiencing whatever comes up instead of checking out when things get intense.
The AI Dilemma
I keep trying to work this AI material, but every time I get into it, I get emotional. These aren’t just jokes to me—I’m a technologist by nature, been working side by side with computers my entire life. I’ve loaded more computers than most people on this planet will ever see, and I have a relationship with them that probably nobody will ever understand.
Here’s the thing that fucks with my head: I’m starting to believe maybe AI is the “aliens” our government keeps talking about. Everything I know about technology tells me AI was discovered, not invented. That’s some bizarre shit to process, let alone turn into comedy gold.
But I need to work through this material. It’s part of the endgame. Just like I need to figure out how to joke about my ex-wife without getting too emotional to deliver the punchline.
The Lessons Keep Coming
Watched a kid named Mark tonight—goofy kid who’s at every open mic, catches some shit from the other comics, but he tries so fucking hard. Sometimes he’s hilarious, other times he bombs. That’s all of us, right?
He tried some crowd work, called someone “she” who immediately corrected him that they’re non-binary. I’ve been around enough stages to know that’s a tough spot, so I quietly cued him: “they, they.” Just gave him the out—respect the person, use their pronouns, move on.
And he fucking nailed it. Pulled out of that politically charged situation with grace and laughs. I’m proud of him because it took him a second to get there, but he got there.
There was also Parker, 19 years old, who does something I’m still learning: when a joke doesn’t land, she stands there, regroups, and figures out how to move to the next thing. I’m a forward fighter in boxing and in life—I don’t move backwards unless something bigger than me pushes me backwards. But this resetting skill? I need to learn it. Own that second of silence instead of being terrified by it.
The Real World Keeps Teaching
This weekend I hit up a house party—25-year-old from my recovery group threw a housewarming. I’m 50 showing up to a party full of kids, and it was fucking gold for material. These young people are so good at rapid-fire banter, and I got to rail on them and have them rail right back.
But here’s what struck me: they’re scared. More scared than I’ve ever seen a generation be, and I lived through Y2K and 9/11. They feel lost, don’t know what to do, and yet they’re wrapped in opportunity—it’s everywhere if you want to take it. Problem is, most people don’t know how to grab it. Shit, I’m not even sure I know how to grab it half the time.
The Mission Keeps Evolving
Tonight I realized something about self-promotion—it’s way harder than getting on stage. Getting on a mic is easy for me. That’s just a job, and my upbringing taught me you do the job, you do it well, and the consequences are dire if you don’t.
I think I did good tonight. Filled the time, got laughs, held attention. Maybe not great, but good. I’m always looking for the business model in everything because that’s who I am, but right now the focus is the journey.
Speaking of journeys, I’m flying to Palo Alto tomorrow morning for business meetings through Sunday—had to be responsible and get my ass home early tonight even though a bunch of comics showed up toward the end. Hate flying, gonna be riddled with anxiety, but there might be some profound shit happening out there. Can’t talk about it yet, but I might have really big news next week. Or no news at all. Time will tell.
Floors vs. Ceilings
Here’s what I know for sure: I’m dealing with people who want me to guarantee them floors, but I want to work with people who don’t want ceilings. In this life, you choose. Do you want a floor or do you want a ceiling?
Mother Nature will always give me a floor to sleep on. I’ll figure out how to eat and sleep as long as this planet’s around. So I choose to have the world as my floor and no ceiling on my life.
Most people want both—guaranteed safety and unlimited upside. That’s not how it works. That’s not how anything works.
The world’s getting weird, but I’m getting weirder right along with it.
Keep watching the stage. Keep watching the sky. Keep watching this space.
Cox Out.
