So I did stand-up for the first time Tuesday, 10/21, at an open mic at the Cleveland Improv. I sucked. But, of course. It was my first time ever, and though I put a lot of work into my first open mic preparation, and I was better than everyone else who went (at least on that particular day), I still sucked. Terribly. I did it again, to much the same result, on the 28th. I wasn't as good as I was on the first try, which means I was worse than when I sucked.
All in all, I wasn't as terrified as I thought I'd be, once I got on stage. I have near-crippling stagefright, and I was absolutely terrified up there, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My mouth was completely dry, my chest pounded, but I was still able to speak and I didn't chicken out and opt not to go on. So, that's what made it better than usual.
The club manager, Lee, says I have a ways to go with performing the material, but he says the material itself is very solid, and with time and effort, I can pull a lot of great jokes out of it. I get laughs now, but I stumble on words and phrases due to my nervousness and, of course, stumbling during a joke is raid to the roach. There's no easier way to bomb, other than to outright NOT be funny.
So, I did it! Except, not really. I got on stage, told jokes, and got laughs, but I didn't feel fully comfortable or natural and I'm not able to pull the jokes out of the material the way I want yet. But, of course, the 28th was only my second try in as many weeks.
The thing is, who the hell do I think I am? To tell people to gather in a room as I stand under a spotlight, and tell them what I think? What makes me so important? One of the other comics, John Wellington, asked me, "Who did you think you were funnier than?" The answer: No one. I was around a lot of comics in NYC, and one thing I never thought was "I could do that - and better." It was never as confrontational as that. It was more, "Wow, I like what these guys do and I want to do that, but it looks hard as hell. I wonder if I could do it." So who the hell do I think I am? No one too important, but someone who does have something to say that I don't think is being said; whether that be hip-hop's oxymoronic, latently flamboyant homosexuality, or the idea that women make honest men lie to them, only to accuse us of lying when we're being honest.
I've been interested in trying to do stand-up for years (I chickened out in an NYC club once) but the fact is, I made a promise to a very special person whom I will never forget, who gave her life for me, intentionally or not, that whether I succeeded or not, I would at least try, and I've kept that promise, and then some. That person has given me something that no one other than that person could have given me, and though there is not now, and there never will be, a way for me to pay them back, I have learned a lot about myself, and have done things - and will do things now - that I would not have done before that person came into my life. The circumstances of our relationship make it inappropriate and tacky for me to thank her for her sacrifice, but I want her to know that it wasn't in vain. I am wholly and truly a different person now than I was before I met her, and for the better, though I abhor the way it had to happen.
From here on out, it's all gravy...
