So I've really been back into a groove, comedy-wise that is. It feels good. It feels great actually. The fire inside of me never actually went out while I was away from the mic for a bit, but it is burning again. Perhaps even brighter than it was when I made my first awkward attempts at comedy, in Chicago, at sixteen. Most comics say their first time onstage was "great." I don't remember my first time like that. Because it wasn't great. But it was something I'd never felt before. It was the closest to being "right" I've ever felt. It was a sense of normalcy.
In life, you have to pursue goals. Things aren't handed to you. Everyone knows this, but so few actually do it. I often get "Oh, you do comedy, I could never do it!" Well, whether it's comedy, performing brain surgery, or anal sex, you aren't going to know until you try it! So get out there and get in the game. Failure hurts, but the dull stinging pain of unanswered uncertainty is much more uncomfortable, and it's life long.
One of the most vastly underrated comedic talents in history. People talk a lot of shit on Carrot Top, most of which is unprovoked, and totally, totally undeserved. I saw him in Vegas a year ago, mostly because I didn't think he'd be funny for more than five minutes of his act. Christ, was I wrong! I say the following in absolute seriousness: Carrot Top is a brilliant comic. He has to write and conceptualize new props practically weekly. Also, he takes huge risks with them. If more than two or three in a row bomb, he risks losing the interest of the audience. Just huge balls. Huge. Probably covered in orange hair, too. So few people do what he does. Mostly because they don't have the talent. The next time you hear a comic or layperson talk shit on Carrot Top, ask them when their next Vegas residency is starting. Ask them when they're quitting whatever shitty day job they work. Ask them if they have the strength to persevere when their peers and contemporaries mock them without mercy. I love Carrot Top!*
*Chairman of the Board sucked.
Weekend of sloth continues. I ordered a large pizza last night, with the intention of saving a bit of it to eat today. That did not happen, but it did take me the entire evening to eat the pizza, so at least I'm not a total glutton.
Orange soda brings me back to childhood. Memories of mercilessly being made fun of, falling off of my bike every day, people throwing rocks at me, and desperately trying to "fit in." Thanks, orange soda. Thanks a lot!
I watched I Spit on Your Grave yesterday. It is possibly the King(or Queen?) of all exploitation movies. Some see it as mysoginistic, some see it as empowering. I don't know quite what to make of it. It's certainly nothing special, but at the same time, I wasn't so offended that I felt the need to turn it off. It is rough though. Extremely rough. Roger Ebert called this the worst movie he'd ever seen.
It's a good thing 700 billion dollars of our money managed to stabilize the stock market! Wait, it didn't? Wait, the government is buying stock in banks? Don't let them take your guns folks!
I'm looking for shows in November and December. I need shows! Shows! Let me know of them. Don't be afraid of my genius! I've even been thinking of heading down to the Improv, mostly because I really need a "this is me at the Improv" obligatory picture for MySpace. I would go to the Bone, but I have a soul, and I'm able to actually make people laugh. Funny how they call it the Improv. You don't see much improvisation in a room like that.
This is Sparta!
I'm so lazy I'm debating if putting on deodorant is even worth it today.
They shined brightest.-BK
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