Well well well... Turns out I did exactly what I didn't want to do. I completely forgot about this blog. It's been close to a year since I updated this thing. Totally Patronizing. I still like the name. Seems that a year ago I was bitching a lot. I suppose I'm good at that. So good, in fact, that I just might be working on a podcast that's just that. Me bitching. Who wouldn't want to listen to that?!
So what have I been doing for the past year? Let's see...
Looks like my last post was in January and I don't remember a damn thing about that month. So let's skip ahead to February. I turned 26. Fucking hooray. Rented another cabin for the party and had a decent time. Decent because I think I'm becoming more cynical every year and I have a hard time enjoying... uh... Everything. I was still making the rounds at open mics in the Carbondale area and running the one at Longbranch with Eric Brown and Sarah Bursich.
March through June was more of the same. Unemployed, drinking most nights, playing a lot of video games, eating entire large pizzas, and living with my mom. Then July rolled around... A friend told me about a company that might be hiring in the St. Louis area. A company that cares for, and teaches, people with mental disabilities. I had no doubt in my mind that there was no way I would get that job. Me of all people. So, I applied online with my incredibly depressing resume. Three days later, I had an interview over the phone. Week after that, I had an interview in person. Two weeks after THAT, I moved to St. Louis. July 27th was the day I moved. I started working July 28th. I went through my two weeks of training before I started picking up clients. I'll spare you a lot of the details and get to the major events. Since I've been working here I've been told to go fuck myself, that I'm a son of a bitch, that it's amazing that even my family would love me, and that I'm a piece of shit. That's just from one kid. Not to mention the time he threatened to kill me with a shovel (which was in his hands.)
Then I get my second client. Non-verbal (a great change of pace) and needs to learn most daily living skills. Can't really say anything bad about the kid. He honestly doesn't know any better... I feel bad for him. Believe it or not, I like this job a lot. I feel like I'm doing something meaningful for once. I'm helping them in very specific ways and I feel like they need me. It's pretty great. Except for the time this kid got out of the shower and full-on grabbed my tits while rubbing his bare dick against me. That was a bummer.
I've always liked St. Louis. It's a pretty cool city. My first month here I stayed with a friend who pretty much lived in the metro area. My commute to work was pretty short, I was close to everything, it was great. I only stayed there for a month because I told him I would. Even though things weren't going how I had planned by that point, I made him a deal. He has a really small place and, with me sleeping on the couch, it was pretty cramped. So, sure, I lied to him about having something else lined up. Only thing that feels worse than mooching off somebody is doing it because they feel sorry for you, right? So when my contingency plan fell through, I wasn't left with many options. I could go crawling back home and admit defeat (something I was all too familiar with) or I could say fuck it and do what I had to so I could get by. Obviously, I chose option B. I spent the next two weeks living in my car. I tell people this pretty openly because I am in now way ashamed of it. I stayed. I fought through it. Sure, two weeks isn't very long... But it feels a lot longer when you don't have a bed and gunshots seem a whole lot closer. I found a gym that was 24 hours, clean, and cheap. Essentially, I payed $10 for two weeks of showers and a parking lot to sleep in. Not a bad deal, in my book. Eventually, my birth mom finds out about my "living situation" and immediately steps in. Of course, she knows people in the area. And, of course, one of them has a room they're looking to rent for pretty cheap.
So, here I am. Living in Florissant, Missouri. I live with a cast of characters from, as Eric Brown said, "a bad British sitcom." Lesbian, people who have been to jail, guy with a couple DUI's.... And me. Just some fat fuck with an insane dream to tell jokes for money.
There it is. I have no idea if anyone actually read this thing, or if anyone really gives a shit. If you do, please let me know. If not, then it's for me. Either way, it's kind of a win.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Thursday, January 2, 2014
I love art. All forms of it. Music, painting, drawing, writing, and Comedy. Comedy is an art. Say what you will about gimmick comics or insult comics - and I'll probably agree with you. It's hard to consider that art. But people sitting alone at their kitchen tables, pouring their heart into a notebook... I can't think of a better visual for real, visceral art.
We live in a society overflowing with pop culture. Yeah, I know. People like what they like. But as Dean Delray said on Pete Holmes' "You Made It Weird" podcast, "What happened to people liking good shit?" There's plenty of good shit out there, why isn't it being seen? It seems like most people would rather cram more of the same regurgitated shit down their throats than try to expand to find more interesting and thoughtful material. I'm the first to admit that I'm guilty of binge-watching shows on Netflix. I'm also doing my best to write down original thoughts, put myself on stage, and share them with everyone. How can you argue that I'm not creating art?
We live in an extremely privileged age. Everyone has a smart phone, a facebook account, frequents youtube... Everyone is always consuming. Which means that there's no lack of people proclaiming that someone else's original content is shit. But what do those people put out there? Most likely, goddamn nothing. You can't even like things anymore. If you happen to be a fan of something that's not considered "main stream" you're branded as a hipster. There are few things I despise as much as that word. Rather than give something a try, you're ostracized immediately. I'm not saying that a lot of those considered hipsters don't deserve it. There's a difference between genuinely enjoying something and acting like a pretentious cocksucker just for the sake of being a trend-setter.
The 60's, 70's, 80's, AND the 90's blossomed with creative content. New music movements, new books, comedy... What happened? When did TMZ become a hotspot for news? Why does anyone give a flying fuck about what celebrities are up to? It. Doesn't. Fucking. Matter. As a good friend of mine (and fellow comic) Eric Brown said to me, "...Getting laughs, having fun...I want my life to be that. We all die someday. It's useless. I'd like to spend my years enjoying shit over being miserable and defeated." Why be concerned with what Kim Kardashian is up to? How about this... Fuck Kim Kardashian, fuck Kanye West, and fuck their dumb baby. I don't care. I don't care anymore about their baby than half of the people on facebook. Are you friends with Kim and Kanye? Do they have an effect on your life? Then why? Why pander to them like a mindless, numb, parasite. What do you want to do with your life?
Create something. Anything. Some say they aren't the "creative type." Bullshit. If you've lived a life and had experiences, you can make something with it.