Come find yourself...

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Boogie Into Your Life

I was going to get deep and write some truly profound insights into the human condition, when this song came on and and dammit - I couldn't stop dancing.

Give it up, people!

Through friends of friends I'm setting up a meeting with the GM of Comix, a comedy club in Manhattan. Thank God he's nicer than most corporate entertainment people. Jesus some of them are vile. This guy is super sweet. Gay. With a baby with his black lover. Can't get much better than that.

I'm going to convince him to allow me to do an open mike soon. For the hell of it. My hubby told me I should do stand-up in NYC at least once. I agree. I can always say I did it once in NYC.

He told me that it's hard to fill the club with gays who want to hear a gay comic. That shocked me. I was trying to think about what to do for the routine.

I'm not of the bitter George Carlin style. He was insightful and funny, but bitter and pissed. Like a cranky but very smart old guy. Pissed off hippy.

I like Richard Pryor a lot. He was very funny and was talking about race stuff long before a lot of comics ever did.

Lenny Bruce was tragic and profane.

Lots of great comics had endless rage in them. Anger, rage, disappointment, frustration....I'm not gonna put that out there. I get it, I can be very funny in my rage and my frustration having lived for years in the most chaotic city I can imagine, but I don't think that's the way to go.

Maybe I should talk about bowels. That's a good subject!

I have this very juvenile tendency in that I’m fascinated with the lower regions of a person, meaning, their bowels. I know, disgusting, but it’s a part of life, right? That’s not the worst part.

I’m disgusted when other people bring it up but then I laugh like a little school boy when I bring it up. It’s disturbing.

My mother had irritable bowel syndrome. I think that’s where it came from, along with most of my neurotic obsessions. Her shit smelled so bad we had to have a fan installed in the WALL of the bathroom as a direct line to the outside to shuffle the stench out.

She was very ashamed of this and I think she should have had more pride. She should have shoved it in people’s face. Figuratively, mind you.

She should have said:

"Yes, the bathroom smells like a Roman battleground littered with thousands of dead and rotting bodies – jealous? I have a natural skill and you do not. Fuck you, you insecure gnat."

Something like that.

My very successful one-man show was all angst and humor and it was hard and painful but necessary. I am now in the process of letting go of so much shit. So much shit. Useless shit.

I need to latch onto my humor. I am a very insightful man with a solid sense of humor.

I think I need to use that.

Speaking of humor, what I would have given to be one of the writers on this very fine film: