Cat Baths and Other Falseties.

Starbucks, here I am, like I were 19 and didn’t know what good coffee tastes like.

I sit here, under the assumption that I am going to write jokes to perform on stage later tonight and in the future. The last couple efforts I have made to write jokes didn’t pan out as fruitfully as I would have hoped, so now I feel the procrastination set in. People didn’t laugh at the image of me bathing with my pets and I don’t have pets so it seems I am just a hollow shape of authenticity. I PRETEND TOO MUCH!

When I started comedy, I was so excited to perform and write. That isn’t saying that I am not anymore, but I am also in transit. I am about to go to Europe where my jokes might not hold any water. The only thing worse than a sopping wet sponge is a bone-dry one, especially when you’re trying to gather crumbs. I have a small handful of shows before I leave this country and I feel a lack of confidence that cripples my inspiration. I worked to write and alleviate this with the brute force of optimism only to find myself on a make shift stage in front of a room filled with trendy pedestrians wearing the “prove it” face that drains all fun from everything in life. So, this is my reeling, my recovery. Tonight could be better and should be, but what will I do? Not as much new stuff as I did Wednesday... shame on me.

My relationship with performance is bitter sweet at this point, I don’t know what I am doing and need to be working harder to solidify my successful performance ratio. My bad sets aren’t awful, but I want to feel consistently comfortable for 10 minutes, all the way through. No one knows how my knees shake at times, which would be fine, if I didn’t know how brazen and fearless I could be.

I guess I am just at the beginning of a road unknown. I look down the road with a back pack filled with items of undefined relevance. I am fretting about working for the immediate, not knowing how the future will look. I am not giving up on myself, but I am seriously questioning my qualifications. I want to strengthen the areas that stand to grow and develop, as opposed to clinging to some archaic belief of what worth looks like.

I want to be funny, but I don’t want hunger to envelope the lightness of approach. I don’t think I am desperate, but I am in transition and I don’t feel fully actualized or secure in what I am doing. I am writing, to write and watch where this takes me. I will go on stage tonight and see what permanence is placed on this mold as a result. I could feel amazing and in tuned with whatever guides this urge or I could get some free pizza or something.