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
Art
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.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Loverboy
Here we are! Week three. It's 11:37 and I'm just now getting this damn thing started. Maybe I should update more than once a week. Seven days is too long for me to remember what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Anyway... Let's get down to it.
Love. Is there anything more powerful? There's not much that can be said about love that isn't cliche. It's the one thing that can instill as much fear as it does joy. I've always found it to be a beautiful thing. People can fight and argue over just about anything in the world. But, one undeniable fact, everyone wants love. Sure, you might not be ready for it. And, typically, you never know when you're ready. That's what's so awesome about it. You can be in the deepest, darkest place... But, then loves comes along. BAM! You're sucked into the smiles and flirtatious touches that make all of your friends want to hang themselves. It's so interesting to me. All it takes is one person to completely change your personality. Arguably, for the better.
Yes, there are more than enough examples of how love (or, "love" if you're a pessimist) have changed people for the worse. Doing things that hurt themselves or others just to prove their affection and things of that nature. However, is that really love? It's hard to say. I think that, in most cases, that kind of love is one sided. Usually with the person doing the wrong thing being the one that's truly in love. It's an interesting conversation to have. Everyone has their own stories of love. And most of them bad. Love is a lot like general happiness in that way. There has to be a lot of pain to compensate for how fantastic it is.
To quote one of my favorite comics, Marc Maron... What the fuck is my point? I, just like everyone else, have had my fair share of shit in the love department. I spent most of my Jr. High and High school years chasing it. I've always been a hopeless romantic and I'm just now learning to embrace it. I don't know if it's an endearing quality to have, but it's me. And, dammit, people are going to have to deal with it. So, I thought I'd share with you all (the two... MAYBE three people who read this) my story of the first time I had my heart broken.
I was in the fourth grade. I was a weird kid for a lot of reasons. One of the weirdest to me, I never really went through the "girls are gross" phase. For two years I had my eye on one girl that I couldn't stop thinking about. Her name was Lindsey. Long dark hair, blue eyes, never spoke to me, never came to my birthday party that I ALWAYS invited her to... She was pretty great. Finally, I decide that I'm going to do something. Since all my time during recess was spent avoiding bullies and jumping off of playground equipment for attention, I knew I needed a different approach. I decided to write her a love letter. "What can be more romantic than coming to school and finding a love letter in your desk?" That was my actual though as a fourth grader. Now, my penmanship has always been shit. I know I can't really write a letter. I do want her to be able to read the damn thing. So, I start typing. As far as what I said in that letter, I have no idea. I can only imagine how cringe worthy that damn thing must have been. But I was in fourth grade! I can't stress that enough...
Once I'm done writing, editing, rewriting, and re-editing... I print it out, put it in an envelope, then I'm stuck with a new problem. How do I write her name on the envelope? I want it to impress her and I know I won't be able to make it look nice. So I do what any young boy does. I go to my mom. I have my mom write Lindsey's name on the envelope. There was little sleep to be had that night. How can anyone sleep when you just know the love of your life is about to be swept off her feet when you're one romantic little goddamn Casanova? I made sure to be ready so I could get to school earlier than usual. I wanted to put the letter in her desk and be ready to watch as she read it because I just knew she was going to fall madly in love with me. So far, everything goes exactly as planned. She sits down, finds the note, opens it, and starts reading. My heart is pounding so hard in anticipation. She finishes, then motions for her friends to come over. I get even more excited. Now she wants to show off to them! Perfect! I know that one of the best ways to win a lady over is to impress her friends. After they all read it, they take a second to talk about it. Things just keep getting better! They're talking about me! I've definitely nailed it. Lindsey turns to look at me, with a big stupid smile on my face. That's when it happens. In unison, the laughing. And the pointing. And more laughing. I felt the blood leave my face and I could almost hear my heart crashing into the floor.
Years later, Lindsey and I actually became friends. The story of that letter became a fun little anecdote in our friendship. I never let her know that I still liked her. I didn't see much of a point. Chalk it up to an experience that would prepare me for a series of failed attempts, and failed relationships. But, like I said, the pain is necessary for the bliss that love can bring.
As usual, leave a comment! Tell me one of your experiences. And please share this blog. If you have any topic you'd like me to tackle, just let me know.
Love. Is there anything more powerful? There's not much that can be said about love that isn't cliche. It's the one thing that can instill as much fear as it does joy. I've always found it to be a beautiful thing. People can fight and argue over just about anything in the world. But, one undeniable fact, everyone wants love. Sure, you might not be ready for it. And, typically, you never know when you're ready. That's what's so awesome about it. You can be in the deepest, darkest place... But, then loves comes along. BAM! You're sucked into the smiles and flirtatious touches that make all of your friends want to hang themselves. It's so interesting to me. All it takes is one person to completely change your personality. Arguably, for the better.
Yes, there are more than enough examples of how love (or, "love" if you're a pessimist) have changed people for the worse. Doing things that hurt themselves or others just to prove their affection and things of that nature. However, is that really love? It's hard to say. I think that, in most cases, that kind of love is one sided. Usually with the person doing the wrong thing being the one that's truly in love. It's an interesting conversation to have. Everyone has their own stories of love. And most of them bad. Love is a lot like general happiness in that way. There has to be a lot of pain to compensate for how fantastic it is.
To quote one of my favorite comics, Marc Maron... What the fuck is my point? I, just like everyone else, have had my fair share of shit in the love department. I spent most of my Jr. High and High school years chasing it. I've always been a hopeless romantic and I'm just now learning to embrace it. I don't know if it's an endearing quality to have, but it's me. And, dammit, people are going to have to deal with it. So, I thought I'd share with you all (the two... MAYBE three people who read this) my story of the first time I had my heart broken.
I was in the fourth grade. I was a weird kid for a lot of reasons. One of the weirdest to me, I never really went through the "girls are gross" phase. For two years I had my eye on one girl that I couldn't stop thinking about. Her name was Lindsey. Long dark hair, blue eyes, never spoke to me, never came to my birthday party that I ALWAYS invited her to... She was pretty great. Finally, I decide that I'm going to do something. Since all my time during recess was spent avoiding bullies and jumping off of playground equipment for attention, I knew I needed a different approach. I decided to write her a love letter. "What can be more romantic than coming to school and finding a love letter in your desk?" That was my actual though as a fourth grader. Now, my penmanship has always been shit. I know I can't really write a letter. I do want her to be able to read the damn thing. So, I start typing. As far as what I said in that letter, I have no idea. I can only imagine how cringe worthy that damn thing must have been. But I was in fourth grade! I can't stress that enough...
Once I'm done writing, editing, rewriting, and re-editing... I print it out, put it in an envelope, then I'm stuck with a new problem. How do I write her name on the envelope? I want it to impress her and I know I won't be able to make it look nice. So I do what any young boy does. I go to my mom. I have my mom write Lindsey's name on the envelope. There was little sleep to be had that night. How can anyone sleep when you just know the love of your life is about to be swept off her feet when you're one romantic little goddamn Casanova? I made sure to be ready so I could get to school earlier than usual. I wanted to put the letter in her desk and be ready to watch as she read it because I just knew she was going to fall madly in love with me. So far, everything goes exactly as planned. She sits down, finds the note, opens it, and starts reading. My heart is pounding so hard in anticipation. She finishes, then motions for her friends to come over. I get even more excited. Now she wants to show off to them! Perfect! I know that one of the best ways to win a lady over is to impress her friends. After they all read it, they take a second to talk about it. Things just keep getting better! They're talking about me! I've definitely nailed it. Lindsey turns to look at me, with a big stupid smile on my face. That's when it happens. In unison, the laughing. And the pointing. And more laughing. I felt the blood leave my face and I could almost hear my heart crashing into the floor.
Years later, Lindsey and I actually became friends. The story of that letter became a fun little anecdote in our friendship. I never let her know that I still liked her. I didn't see much of a point. Chalk it up to an experience that would prepare me for a series of failed attempts, and failed relationships. But, like I said, the pain is necessary for the bliss that love can bring.
As usual, leave a comment! Tell me one of your experiences. And please share this blog. If you have any topic you'd like me to tackle, just let me know.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Two And A Half Broke Girls
Well, here we are in week two. I've been thinking all week about what I'm going to write about. After much consideration, I've decided that I'll write about something that means a lot to me. Comedy.
Comedy is a rare and beautiful thing. There's no person in the world who doesn't genuinely enjoy a good laugh. True, comedy is subjective. However, laughter is universal. So, what's my point? I'm kind of an asshole. Especially to the friends and family that have never performed, or written, and kind of comedy. I've turned in to one of "those guys." You know... the kind of person that berates you because of a show that you enjoy watching? The kind of person who uses phrases like, "the writing is just so weak" - "it's just so predictable" - and "I can't believe you watch such trash." Okay, so I haven't said that last one. At least, not in the EXACT way.
But why? Why do I feel the need to explain to people that the shows they watch are bad? I'd like to think that it's because I love comedy and I hold it in such a high regard. So much so, that I'm willing to sound like a pompous dick while bashing Two Broke Girls during Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not completely delusional. I haven't been doing standup all THAT long. I'm not trying to say that I know everything there is to know about writing jokes. I'd just like to think that most peoples standards are higher than half-assed one liners. But hell, I like Squidbillies. So what the fuck do I know?
Kept it a little short this week. Trying to figure out a good length for each post. Leave a comment with any feedback or suggestions you have. Or, if you have a topic for me to talk about.
Comedy is a rare and beautiful thing. There's no person in the world who doesn't genuinely enjoy a good laugh. True, comedy is subjective. However, laughter is universal. So, what's my point? I'm kind of an asshole. Especially to the friends and family that have never performed, or written, and kind of comedy. I've turned in to one of "those guys." You know... the kind of person that berates you because of a show that you enjoy watching? The kind of person who uses phrases like, "the writing is just so weak" - "it's just so predictable" - and "I can't believe you watch such trash." Okay, so I haven't said that last one. At least, not in the EXACT way.
But why? Why do I feel the need to explain to people that the shows they watch are bad? I'd like to think that it's because I love comedy and I hold it in such a high regard. So much so, that I'm willing to sound like a pompous dick while bashing Two Broke Girls during Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not completely delusional. I haven't been doing standup all THAT long. I'm not trying to say that I know everything there is to know about writing jokes. I'd just like to think that most peoples standards are higher than half-assed one liners. But hell, I like Squidbillies. So what the fuck do I know?
Kept it a little short this week. Trying to figure out a good length for each post. Leave a comment with any feedback or suggestions you have. Or, if you have a topic for me to talk about.
Monday, November 25, 2013
What To Expect When Expecting Little
There are well over 3 million blogs on the internet right now. 3 MILLION. So what makes me think that I can get anyone to read my one little, shitty blog? Absolutely nothing. But, I hope that I can at least hook a few of you and keep this up.
So, what will I be blogging about? You know, that's a really good question. I went in to this thinking that I had to have an overall theme. Technology? Movies? Games? Comedy? Does delving into ones own psyche count? Because that seems to be what I've landed on. You might be asking yourself how someone can self analyze and keep things lighthearted and fun to read. After all, I'm a comedian. A glorified clown that dances on command, right? To be honest, it's going to get dark at times. But, that's just what happens because that's what is honest. Personally, honest is always more interesting. I've done a pretty good job of keeping a lot of thoughts to myself (while sober, anyway.) Standup comedy has a way of bringing things out of you that you never thought you'd tell anyone, let alone a room full of strangers. So, with a confidence that is incredibly rare, I say... Fuck it.
Let's start off by telling a bit about me. At this exact moment, I am a 25 year old man that lives in Southern Illinois. Thanks to a number of poor decisions, I moved back in with my mom a little over a year ago. I've dropped out of community college (4 times) and I've not had a real job in 10 months. I'm what a lot of people would call a loser. Sure, it's a negative term that makes me want to mouth-fuck the business end of a shotgun and Kurt Cobain my way to Valhalla, but it's not like they're wrong... However, I'm working on fixing things. So that's a plus.
I started doing comedy in May of 2012. Doing standup has been something I've wanted to do since I was in grade school. In fact, when we were supposed to dress as what we wanted to be when we grew up, I donned a button up shirt and sunglasses. Apparently, that's what a dumb kid like me thought would represent a comedian. Yes, while surrounding by little police officers, doctors, firemen, and astronauts... I was the little comic with practically no friends. You can imagine the feigned pride my parents showed. Surprisingly, my very first time on stage went incredibly well. Due mainly to being introduced as a first timer, I'm sure. I haven't looked back since. I spent the following 7 months bombing weekly and getting drunk before and after every open mic. To the shock of everyone who knows me, I kept going and learned from my mistakes. It's not like I'm making a living performing every week. I'm gradually getting better and trying to get my name out there. It's optimism and it scares the fucking shit out of me. As do most new things.
I'm not going into my childhood yet. That's going to be a whole series of me dealing with issues. In a weird way, I'm excited to write about them. I've taken a couple stories on stage and did my best to make them funny, and that seems to have gone well. It was after doing that when I was told that somebody could relate to what I was saying and had been through a lot of the same things. It was comforting for them to know they weren't alone. I've had some great shows in my short career and I've even made a bit of money. But that was easily they greatest feeling I've had since I started doing this.
So, there it is. A little intro. I'll be posting a new blog every Monday. So, if you think you'll like it, check back next week. Tell your friends, too. I crave attention.
So, what will I be blogging about? You know, that's a really good question. I went in to this thinking that I had to have an overall theme. Technology? Movies? Games? Comedy? Does delving into ones own psyche count? Because that seems to be what I've landed on. You might be asking yourself how someone can self analyze and keep things lighthearted and fun to read. After all, I'm a comedian. A glorified clown that dances on command, right? To be honest, it's going to get dark at times. But, that's just what happens because that's what is honest. Personally, honest is always more interesting. I've done a pretty good job of keeping a lot of thoughts to myself (while sober, anyway.) Standup comedy has a way of bringing things out of you that you never thought you'd tell anyone, let alone a room full of strangers. So, with a confidence that is incredibly rare, I say... Fuck it.
Let's start off by telling a bit about me. At this exact moment, I am a 25 year old man that lives in Southern Illinois. Thanks to a number of poor decisions, I moved back in with my mom a little over a year ago. I've dropped out of community college (4 times) and I've not had a real job in 10 months. I'm what a lot of people would call a loser. Sure, it's a negative term that makes me want to mouth-fuck the business end of a shotgun and Kurt Cobain my way to Valhalla, but it's not like they're wrong... However, I'm working on fixing things. So that's a plus.
I started doing comedy in May of 2012. Doing standup has been something I've wanted to do since I was in grade school. In fact, when we were supposed to dress as what we wanted to be when we grew up, I donned a button up shirt and sunglasses. Apparently, that's what a dumb kid like me thought would represent a comedian. Yes, while surrounding by little police officers, doctors, firemen, and astronauts... I was the little comic with practically no friends. You can imagine the feigned pride my parents showed. Surprisingly, my very first time on stage went incredibly well. Due mainly to being introduced as a first timer, I'm sure. I haven't looked back since. I spent the following 7 months bombing weekly and getting drunk before and after every open mic. To the shock of everyone who knows me, I kept going and learned from my mistakes. It's not like I'm making a living performing every week. I'm gradually getting better and trying to get my name out there. It's optimism and it scares the fucking shit out of me. As do most new things.
I'm not going into my childhood yet. That's going to be a whole series of me dealing with issues. In a weird way, I'm excited to write about them. I've taken a couple stories on stage and did my best to make them funny, and that seems to have gone well. It was after doing that when I was told that somebody could relate to what I was saying and had been through a lot of the same things. It was comforting for them to know they weren't alone. I've had some great shows in my short career and I've even made a bit of money. But that was easily they greatest feeling I've had since I started doing this.
So, there it is. A little intro. I'll be posting a new blog every Monday. So, if you think you'll like it, check back next week. Tell your friends, too. I crave attention.
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