Have you ever wondered what it would be like to walk through walls if every time you tried
— the wall got to keep a part of you? Could be a toenail or a testicle. Completely up to fate. You might think twice before jumping room to room.
Superpowers with stakes.
What if every time they changed forms, shapershifters had a 1 in 10 chance of staying in their new form permanently? "Ah shit, I'm a vase now!" What if you could turn invisible except for your genitals? What if every time you donated to charity you channelled the devil?
These are the questions that keep me up at night and saved me over the pandemic.
My creative outlet pre-worldwide-timeout was standup comedy which became sadly impotent over the course of 2020 and 2021. Unless you were rich enough to have hope. The rest of us were on Zoom, in our bedrooms, in our underwear, talking about being in our rooms and in our underwear...
It was dark.
During that time, I was going through a divorce, adjusting to a new job and parenting through a pandemic. I kept thinking,"god, I need a mic," but looking back, I know the opposite is true. I was more eager to make a show of my pain than actually deal with it on my own.
In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't have a choice.
I turned to other outlets like journaling, drawing and music to work through the hard stuff. Good thing I had a lot of time on my hands. I actually came out of the pandemic with an epiphany that bloomed from thinking critically about the worst pieces of advice I had ever received.
The Worst Piece of Advice I've Ever Received
was from a comedian who looked like an Oliver Twist street urchin that grew up to be somehow worse off. He told me to never tell anyone I had a day job. There was this unwarranted ego and prestige that came from being a working comic. It's so insulting. "I'm going to shame you into being more like me." No thanks. I have learned to come to the stage as you are, exactly where you are because that's who and where you're supposed to be. Everything else is about making it funny.
The Second Worst Piece of Advice I've Ever Received
was from every mom and TV commercial in the 1990s: Don't do drugs. And I'm with you. Don't do some drugs. Totally agree. Some of them make your dick shrink and your heart explode. But the ones that introduce you to historical figures and cereal mascots will help you get closer to Jesus.
The Third Worst Piece of Advice I've Ever Received
and this one I did take personally. Don't wear shorts on stage. Jerry Seinfeld said that one. What an asshole. Wear what you want and have fun.
Which Brings Me To This:
I used to feel guilty for listening to myself. I used to be heavily embedded in different projects and productions. When it came for my time to leave, not everyone always agreed with the timing. To an outsider, I was acting on impulse or not thinking everything through. Where internally, I knew that no one else was going to see what I saw for myself.
It may have looked like I was running away but that couldn't be further from the truth. I was running towards something. Something buried deep in the woods. I can't explain the thrill of listening to that voice and following it through the dark but you'll know the thrill the day you choose to do the same.
Keep in mind, that day won't come until you do some drugs and get yourself a fancy new pair of shorts.
Thanks for reading. This is the first time I've written anything since 2019.