Lackluster. That’s the word for today. Everything just felt… muted.
Even this brain dump – usually my favorite part of the night – feels like I’m dragging it out of myself with pliers. Don’t know why. Good day at work, shot four podcasts, two were really good. Probably got at least one book deal out of it for Entrepreneur Fight Club.
But tonight? Tonight felt like going through the motions.
Steve’s Open Mic – Round Two
Got to Steve’s early and there were already ten people on the list. Weird for a Thursday. Turns out Helium wasn’t doing their open mic tonight, so all the regulars ended up at Steve’s. Makes sense now, but at the time it felt strange seeing all the experienced comics there early instead of just us newbies.
Signed up 11th. Did my set at 9:30.
The Waymo Redemption
Good news: The Waymo and blow joke worked this time. Set it up different – explained what Waymo cars are first since not everyone in St. Louis knows about the self-driving cars. Got actual laughs. Visible laughs. Small victory after Tuesday’s bombing.
Did my red pill/blue pill bit too. Still screwed up a little – skipped the Bible part and went straight to the chickens and dogs section. Caught myself mid-bit and circled back. Everyone in the crowd knew I fucked up, but that’s what open mics are for, right? Practice.
The Rebellion Manifesto
Here’s where it gets interesting. Been wrestling with this “say fuck less” feedback all day. And you know what? If you know me at all, you know I don’t like being told what to do.
So I ended my set with what I’m calling The Fuck Symphony.
Told the crowd someone said I use “fuck” too much, and here’s what’s been in my head ever since. Then I performed three to five different little tunes using only the word “fuck” – set to the cadences of drumline marches, Jingle Bells, Sound of Music. Just “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” as the entire instrument.
I think I said “fuck” about a hundred times in 30-40 seconds.
The Commitment
Eight people in that room. Four actual audience members, four comics. Hard to commit to a bit that experimental in front of that crowd, but I did it anyway. Gave it everything I had.
Think I got some respect from the host for that. Takes balls to go full send on something that weird when there’s barely anyone watching.
If I can nail the timing – think Peter Griffin stubbing his toe energy – I think this could be a banger. Could be a fucking record on its own.
The Bigger Picture
Two months in, and I’m realizing something: I’m damn good for two months. Not saying I’m a good comic overall – saying for someone who’s been doing this for eight weeks, I’m holding my own.
The path is becoming clearer too. Do open mics, get brushed up, build solid bits. Eventually get asked to host. The guys who host are really fucking good – they flow, they don’t stumble much. That’s the goal.
But I gotta stay in my lane. Execute the plan. Stop trying to shake things up just because I see talent and want to move faster.
Three years. That’s what they say it takes to get pretty good at anything.
Tonight’s Revelation
Had some realizations about myself tonight. About who I am at this stage of life. Bizarre as hell to be discovering new things about yourself when you thought you had it figured out.
But that’s the thing about this comedy experiment – it’s not just about getting laughs. It’s about getting honest. About finding out what happens when you stop apologizing for who you are and start celebrating it instead.
Even when “who you are” includes saying “fuck” a hundred times in half a minute just to prove a point.
Some nights you bomb. Some nights you build. Tonight felt like building, even when it felt like nothing at all.
