"Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, now.
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again."
-Pink Floyd, "Comfortably Numb,"
The Wall
While
The Wall is far from being my favorite Pink Floyd album (
Wish You Were Here claims that honor, with
Atom Heart Mother coming in at a very close second), nor is it even my favorite Pink Floyd movie (
Live at Pompeii claims that honor), it nonetheless resides closest to my current position on life.
Stand-up comedy has provided me an outlet to express my feelings, often with the reward of laughter and acknowledgment. I love what I'm doing, and I can't wait to do it more often.
But, at the same time, I've come to realize how truly lonely the position of the stand-up comic really is. It's a strange concept getting on the stage alone with the sole intention of entertaining the people in front of you.
What's great about stand-up comedy is that it is the ultimate expression of the individual. I'm up there alone: telling jokes that I wrote. Unlike other performers, if I succeed, then the glory is all mine. I'm not in a band, so I don't have the share credit with the drummer (true fact: all drummers are douche bags). I'm not an actor, so I don't have to share the stage with some guy who enjoys wearing tights way too much. And I'm not a clown, so I don't have to resort to sleeping with the lions.
However, if I fail, then the shame is all mine as well. If I was in a band that sucked, I'd blame it on the drummer (Def Leppard). If I was an actor, I could blame it on the director's choice to adapt Sophocles tragedy,
Antigone, into a romantic comedy set in feudal Japan. If I was a clown, I could blame it on the fact that my uncle touched me once at a Circus (note: not me, the theoretical clown).
Nothing sucks as much as getting on stage and performing for a crowd that doesn't feel your vibe. I should know, it's happened to me a few times over the last six months. Often my approach was to alienate the audience even more by dropping the really sick jokes. Some people will never see cats the same way after sitting through my routine.
But now I'm beginning to see that it's a privilege to perform in front of people. So instead of alienating people who are not feeling my material, I need to find a way to embrace them. I've seen some really great comics around town, both new and old, who are great at embracing the crowd and working with them. That, I believe, is the mark of a truly gifted comedian, and I hope to become better at that myself.
On a side note, my girlfriend and I drove through the
Chattahoochee National Forest today with the intention of going hiking, only to find out that every trail we planned to hike was closed for construction. What kind of construction are they doing in the Forest?
Anyway, even though we were disappointed about not going hiking, it was a nice car ride and it gave us the opportunity to spend time together. Because, unlike stand-up comedy, a relationship is a cooperative venture.
Now I sound like Dr. Phil.