The Bushman Takes the Stage

I'm still here. Haven't been keeping up with this little diary. So, still pluggin' away at the New York thing. Went up in the Village tonight at a place called the Village Lantern. I was something like the 10th comedian after about an hour and forty minutes of show, so they were a little drunk and laughed out by the time I hit them with my sophistocated observations, but I got them going. The following joke got an applause break, at which point I decided to take my money (metaphorically) and run:

"Did any of you vote in the Iraqi elections? They got a 95 percent turn-out, so it seems like everybody was in on it. We only had around 50 percent for our last presidential election. Give it a few years and the Iraqis will be that cynical about it. I think everybody in the country is just too distracted to vote. Next election we should just take all the presidential candidates, at the beginning, when there are like 12 of them, and put them all in the White House at once. Then, we can televise it, and every week we'll vote one of the fuckers off. "

Anyway, it was an audition slot, and the guy says I get to come back. I don't think he saw my set even, but as long as it's another room, good enough. I was actually nervous when I went on stage, and I think it showed in my face. In fact, I'm sure it showed. This does not help. The girl who was m.c.'ing was in the process of announcing me, saying how hillarious I am (she's never seen me before) when she forgot my last name, which seems like a small thing, but kind of lets the audience know she was bullshitting them up to that point. She was a good host though and kept the energy up during a long show.

New rooms are tough. I've got rooms that I've been to a few times, and it's just different. I feel like I've proven myself. You kind of get a sense of ownership, like you pissed on the walls and you can smell yourself in the space. You show up in a new room and all the other comics know eachother, you keep getting bumped because Joe just showed up, and come on, it's Joe, and who the hell are you? The audience is different every time, hopefully, but there's still something about knowing the scene and feeling at home in it.

One night you're king of your domain, the next night you're sneaking into someone else's lair, trying to steal their harem. Harem... O.K., there's more going on here. Sven needs a little T.L.C. Seems like I threw the baby out with the bathwater when I gave up drugs. Ladies? Little help here. My romantic life currently consists of seeing pretty girls on the subway and daydreaming about our life together.

I'm not supposed to get involved with women until I'm a year sober, but I'd be lying if I said that's what's holding me back. I just don't know how make a move when I'm sober. I've never gotten anywhere with a woman without a few beers in me at least. Coward? Yes, but everyone's a coward when it comes to these things. If you aren't scared, you're not looking for what I'm looking for.

Oh well, I'll just keep my mind on my career. Yes, that's the way to spin it. Too busy for love, that's me.

I'm going to Africa in May. I don't know how that's going to happen, but I've committed to it. My parents live there. My dad is a Foreign Service Officer posted in Botswana at the U.S. Embassy, and my mother works part time in administration at the embassy. I also just realized that I have to be back before May 30th, because that's the day of my audition for the Comic Strip. The Comic Strip, where Jerry Seinfeld, Ray Romano and Chris Rock, among others, got there start. I'm going to southern Africa, the other side of the planet, and all I can think about is getting back in time for an audition. Hey, Africa's not going anywhere. My future will fade if not kept after.

I have a vision of walking off a plane at J.F.K. wearing native African clothing and hopping in a taxy straight to the Comic Strip where I am instantly whisked on stage. I proceed to do my entire set, which has no references to Africa or even black people in it. I make no comment about the fact that I'm dressed like a Kalahari Desert bushman, because I'm too wired up on airplane coffee and no sleep to realize. I get off stage and Starla (who hosts and judges the first round of auditions) asks me, "Uhm, so what's with the Zebra pelts and gourds?"

That's all for now...