The week started out on a light note. Dare I say, my newest foray into the performative arts opened up a brand new avenue of myself I am anxious to discover - or rather rediscover. I took a clowning class; as in big, red nose, oversized pants and prop comedy - the whole shabang. I schlepped on up to Evanston and every Monday for thirteen weeks I will be learning via doing all things goofy yet secretly terrifying.
Okay perhaps not. What the class actually appears to be is an excuse to let out your inner child which is objectively something I need to do. Being a clown means being creative, empathetic and vulnerable, all things I think I can express well, but have yet to exhibit them in an out-sized, exaggerated way. I signed up for the class largely because I want to offer something slightly different than my counterparts in relation to standup. As much as I love the pursuit, standup can come across as mean-spirited to the audience - especially if a comedian is still working on things.
On the way home, I caught the train with two others from the class and naturally stuck up a conversation. Both had taken acting classes of some kind before; it seems I'm the only standup in the group (or so I think).
The rest of the week progressed more or less how it was supposed to. Work is dead at the moment which would make it an ideal time to workshop jokes but alas I am just getting back to fighting strength on that end. This past Thursday I stopped by one of my usual haunts but before then I biked on over to the Laugh Factory to watch two friends go up. It was $20 but well worth it if it meant seeing good comedy. Shirley was, of course schmoozing after the show. I was uncomfortable and unable to capitalize on the opportunity which is a loss. Instead of staying there and internalizing the feelings of inadequacy, I instead left right away and went to the mic I meant to go to.
I went first (as I arrived super early). I waited for a couple of sets before ducking out and taking the train home with my bike in tow. The set I did was touch and go but overall I'm proud considering I've been out of the scene for a minute.
I had a night to cook for my friend and co-host Guy Casey (pseudonym so given because my other co-host has the same first name and different gender identity). Casey is one of those rare people who exemplifies funny in nearly every way. His writing, his appearance but especially his delivery is spectacular. He has the cadence of a disinterested Valley girl but lumbers around like a live-action Eeyore.
For dinner I made pineapple rice with tofu. Unfortunately I over did it on the spices especially black pepper and hot pepper resulting in a very flavorful but spicy and grainy experience. Casey was kind enough to eat what he could and didn't complain but I was disappointed.
During dinner we watched Chris Gethard's Career Suicide which was a thoroughly entertaining personal one-man-show. Casey and I have been facing similar difficulties though Casey has the wisdom of years living with depression. He thought the HBO special might be of help and he was right. The thematic juxtaposition between Gethard's old therapist and new therapist was something that struck a chord with me personally. My current therapist was kind enough to check up on me when I was in Indiana and made an effort to contact me a year ago when I lost my healthcare. The Gethard special helped me realize how much of a kind person she is regardless of her quirks.
As of this writing the Chicago Marathon is thirteen days away. The half marathon was yesterday and I caught a little bit of it while I was at a mic. The realization that it's coming is sending chills down my spine. I'll do my best though at this point I doubt I'll be able to finish. If this entire ordeal has taught me anything its that I'm going to have to find something else that's physical to occupy my time because running suuuuucks!
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