Friday. Nothing going on at work, so I had breakfast in bed, read Gotham, read Yalom. Tried to schedule my laser pointer shoot, but this is proving difficult. Must return to it.
Later, I generally figured out what I would talk about at tonight’s stand-up comedy open mic, and wrote the topics into my iPhone’s notepad. Mainly just transferring ‘bits’ I had jotted down into my phone over the past days and weeks, notes labeled as ‘joke’. Here transcribed is my notepad from the night:
My day. Career options.
Freezing my tears
My best friend (Voldemort) ghosted me.
Dan Lopez ghosted me.
Andre forcing me to get Alexa and Oculus
Sitting on toilet with Oculus going on a roller coaster
Alexa cheating on me
Church bully… Are you a vegetable? Are you a douche?
Fruit fly in my hummus. Throw it away.
Predictive type joke.
Whenever I get a call from my mom I wanna grab your stuff from you and then I’ll check the garage door.
Lunch of a veggie patty, toast, and cucumbers. I’ve run out of food, and must buy more.
I watched Barry; it is pretty good, but the hit man parts are a little broad, a little gruesome, violent-for-laughs. Not a big fan of that, but I’ll give it more tries. I love the Fonz … what’s that actor’s name? … he’s great in it. That scene where he tried to date the lady police officer: gold.
Afternoon, I wrote a bit more of Bad Psychiatrist. At least a half-an-hour was spent staring at an empty page. What an awful feeling, that. Like, a feeling of, I’ll never be able to write again. What’s it about? What’s the purpose? I don’t know. Oh, here are some words. Here’s a scene, a kernel of an idea. OK, at least it’s something. So I got down a couple of pages.
Dinner of apple and peanut butter, plus a vegan ‘Eat The Dough’ cookie. Watched Barry while I ate. Then I went to the open mic at Tao Comedy Studio.
The pre-show was dour. Music played softly: Jimi Hendrix; nobody talked. The atmosphere was like a library after closing, or a funeral parlor. Everyone was on their phone. Nobody made social contact with anybody, no small talk. Everyone was perhaps nervous, tense. Eight or ten people in the room.
Then the show started, and it loosened up. Turns out they were a great crowd. Lots of laughs. I think I did all right, and I enjoyed the other comedians too.
First up, kind of stand-offish, sarcastic female police officer HR-type person who doesn’t like her job or her co-workers. Another, an old guy doing curse word jokes. Another, the self-styled PC Pirate, complete with eyepatch, hook, pirate accent, and total commitment. I remember him awkwardly trying to move the mic-stand off the wire, using his fake hook; wonderful.
Then, a Gene Wilder look-alike with a zany sense of humor, including my favorite joke of the night: ‘You know the best thing about the beach? No spider-webs!’ The nervous girl with the fifty-odd notecards, the one-liners, and the Trump impression. And our headliner, the long-haired rocker-type who told us about how he got kicked out of a bar last night, at two A.M., which coincidentally is the time when bars close anyway. His shirt featured three or four women sucking, inhaling… something… vomit? I couldn’t quite make out what it was, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. (The substance was marijuana, I later found out, when I talked to him. He’s getting back into comedy, lives nearby, and walked to the show that night. Left his credit card at the bar nearby, so needed to pick it up.)
Then I drove home and played Oculus Go with Andre and Tim. First, chess, which I won; then, Monopoly, which I lost. And then, bed.