You Think You're Dialed In? Someone Has To Win. And You Know What That Means? That Means Someone's Got To Lose. It's Probably You.

Last night I gave a shitty performance. I blame no one but myself. I fucked it up. Pure and simple. I can shake that off pretty easily. I might just have to put down Dog Phone, though. God help me, I love that bit so much, but no one else does. C'est la guerre. I actually got heckled, which was a first for me. I don't see it as a failure, though. I learned some important lessons about taking the performance seriously, and about not expecting too much from the audience. Especially when they've had a few good hours to get drinks in themselves. Like I said, it's pretty easy to shake off.

Tonight at the Loony Bin I gave a great performance. It just wasn't good enough, though. Now that's a shitty feeling. It's times like these that I wish I had never gotten good grades or done well on standardized tests. I'm used to exceeding expectations, and I'm so conditioned to judge myself based on the external validation that comes from other people judging me and deeming my actions awesome. That's what the laughter is all about, right? But let me tell you, comedy is not a standardized test. It isn't a research paper on international media systems. There are no guarantees that your hard work will pay off. It is totally subjective. At the same time, I don't want to downplay the achievements of the (at least) 8 people who were found funnier than me tonight. I got beat. It happens. I'm proud of all my friends that made it to the finals at the Loony Bin, and I'll be there on Sunday to cheer them on. But the overachieving Phi Beta Kappa super-nerd within me is having a nice little identity crisis. And one of the nice things about comedy is that until recently, that square-tied little fucker didn't even know what I was up to. Each time I went up I got laughs or I didn't, and that was it. But in the past couple of weeks it's become about competition. And yeah, I know my perspective would be different if I were one of the 8 finalists competing on Sunday. Well, I'm not sure, actually. I always look forward to performing, even at a sketchy south town strip club. But I was fucking dreading my 5 minutes at the Loony Bin tonight.

Oh well, it's over now. And by the way, I am not fishing for compliments here, nor do I want anyone to try and make me feel better about any of this. I am quite confident in my ability to make people laugh, and I do not want to feel better about losing. I want to cling onto my disappointment and frustration like the last blanket in the Siege of Leningrad.

After all, I've earned it.

You Watched Me Hunt For Tips I Was Obliged To Pick Up From The Passing Trade

I took this picture last night before the show at Trust Me Too. In case you didn't know, Trust Me Too used to be a strip club. As far as I can tell, it could still be. Pole on the stage, names on the lockers in the changing room, informative signs on the walls... But now it's a heavy metal bar.

Last night it was a comedy venue. Unfortunately, the comics outnumbered the audience nearly 2 to 1. We still performed. Kyle recorded it. It was less a performance than a drunken workshop.

We might do it again, or maybe split a bill with the heavy metal bands that play on the weekends.

I can't pass up a chance to be onstage, even if it's just for other comics or a bunch of guys who blame Cobain for killing Rock 'n Roll.