Been Awhile…#sadbois

Attempting to solidify and possibly repair our bond, I want to apologize for not posting enough. Especially if you actually enjoy my content. You deserve that much. Even though you might think you don’t. I know I don’t. All I seem to be doing on this blog is saying that I’m going to write more and then apologizing for not doing so. I want to be there for you. I want to be so many things. We are on this journey together, but neither of us can be permanently with the other. What’s the point? Since we can’t be one consciousness despite what my acid trips said, the best thing I think I can do is to make you laugh. At least think or reflect. Ever since I was little, I felt that I could see the truth just beyond the fog of everything that was trying to obscure it. Now in my mid to late young adulthood, I realize that truth was and is a lot harder to define. A little late to figure that out, but hey, I’m a late bloomer. Millenials should actually be called the late Boomers. Maybe my problem is that I want to please everybody, and my bigger problem is that I deeply believe that if I can talk to you long enough, you’ll eventually be pleased. Why is writing so difficult! Maybe this is one of those stream of consciousness posts that sounds good on paper, but really isn’t. As a child I really believed I had something to offer the the world, but that something was so large that I felt it required a stage, or at least a hefty Zoom meeting. All I knew, is that I needed an audience and a perspective. For the majority of my youth, I was focused on the perspective. Studying all sorts of subjects, just to increase the rage where I can find the funny. Presently, I’m focusing on the audience portion of the exam. If I can just stand on stage and talk with people listening I think it I’ll be happy. That’s what I told myself, until I started bombing on stage. But hey that’s part of the gig!

I really want to complain about my life, but I already know as a straight white man, you’ve probably already guessed it’s been pretty rough. Comedy is about vulnerability, but how can I be vulnerable if people see that vulnerability as an act of superiority. What a pickle. That was pretty white, I don’t know. Look, I just want to make people laugh! Maybe I’m not being honest enough. Maybe I want to impact the psyche of humanity like Isaac Newton, but with shitty jokes. I didn’t hate anybody until I was told I should hate certain people. From politics to religion all culture includes hate. If there’s an outgroup and ingroup you can almost guarantee there’s going to be hate between them. I don’t like that, but it is what it is. That feeling of it is what it is makes me want to write a joke about it. I hate that things just are. I can’t stop it, but I can talk about it. There’s so much about life thats malleable if people give you a chance to actually turn it over. Unfortunately, they have to like you. Being a straight white male makes everyone who doesn’t look like me hate me. And even then, there are people(i.e. liberals and some conservatives) who are the same as me and still hate me for it. Maybe it’s just a case of they hate me cause they ain’t me. My sister says I can’t hate everyone equally, but then again she’s never had to drive in traffic. Classic traffic joke…

I’m pissed off that both Donald Trump and Joe Exotic are more famous than me. Not just more famous, but funnier. More people laughed at those two fuckwads than anything I’ve done on stage. That’s pretty pathetic I know, mostly because I just recently started going on stage, but I just want to be the best all the time! It’s pretty white of me to say, but I think I deserve to get looked at for the things that spill out from the crossfaded acid trip that is my psyche. Maybe I didn’t get enough attention as a child. That’s a good theory, but my family says they gave me too much attention. So, maybe that explains why I just expect to be loved by others for just giving it my best shot. That’s white people in a nut shell. Just give it an A for effort, and people will love ya! One thing I keep going back to is race. I’ve been obsessed recently, I mean who isn’t now a days, but I’ve been hooked on trying to figure it out. I’ve looked into the nooks and crannies of why racism exists, why it’s evolved in us, what it’s done to humanity, and why ultimately it’s all my fault. It all started with being open to my unconcious. The darkness of the Id. Freud shit, if you got lost, or didn’t take Psych 101 in undergrad. I’m terrible, honestly way worse than hitler, mostly because of poor execution. I wouldn’t be as well thought out. I’d be stuttering, tripping over air. Maybe I’d get hit in the stomach by accident, and let out a tiny fart, that was way too noticeable for the amount of effort I put into holding it back. I hope you’d think that was funny. And if not, I called that too, booya! What I”m trying to say is it wouldn’t be hateful, but embarrassing! It’s very difficult for an disorganized person to be racist. They’d mix up the stereotypes. All of a sudden white people can jump. Now that’s just preposterous!

Comedy is about bringing darkness to light, but that being the case won’t make your joke funny. With the concept of absurdity and the rise of internet meme culture. It’s understood that you can make whatever kind of joke you want. As long as it lands and people laugh, it can be whatever you want it to be. That’s too much pressure! All those possibilities you need to consolidate to one thing. And 9 times out of 10, what you come up with won’t even be as half as good as you’d like, that is until you consistently use it enough in front of an audience. This coronavirus is almost as annoying as white people who don’t “support” hitler, but love him anyway. You’ve heard these people “I don’t think what he did was good, but he was one heck of a general”. No he wasn’t! He was shit! He honestly made some huge military blunders, he liked planes way too much, but whatever keeps you eugenicists happy. Really, if you like dogs, do you not dabble in eugenics? Denial is the first step, but I’m willing to jump over all of them with you. And yes, I used the lowercase h! That motherfucker does not deserve the respect of a capital H!

I’m really upset, because most people walk around being 100% sure of their beliefs, all while not taking a single second to actually think them through. I actually believed in Santa Claus until the 8th grade, but now I’m an atheist. The leaps and bounds you can take in life is astounding! I know we’re both guilty of this, so I’m not trying to put us on the spot. That doesn’t stop it from being the case. I dislike that when I think I figured out the world, it doesn’t just stop and give me a trophy for all my hard work. No victory party, it just keeps on spinning. It keeps going on for so long that what I thought I figured out, actually turns out to be wrong at some level. That or I’m crazy. Maybe that’s why I didn’t get the trophy.

I care a lot about humanity, and I care even more about everything that exists outside of us. Or at least outside of our conscious awareness. We are special. Yes, you and yes me. You’re special because you’re alive, and you get to make a stand against this absurdity. I’ll gladly stand with you, and tell my bad jokes as well. If you lost someone during the plague, I feel for you. Death isn’t funny. Discrimination isn’t funny. Women aren’t funny. That is until a human being decides to make it a joke. Thank you, and may all your farts smell as good as you expect them to be. #sadbois #sexismisntcoolyouguys #COVID

Writing on MLK Day…

Damn, I need to keep on this blogging thing. I’m new at it so I’m not beating myself up as I usually do. I guess you could call that character development. I did stand-up last week. Bombed, as I should for not practicing. I know this might sound weird, but I kind of like bombing. Don’t get me wrong I hate it, and I rather get laughter and good vibes. However after bombing, I went home and started writing again. Every rider on their horse, realizes they need to spend more time with their horse, once it throws them off. Bombing is a good way to regulate my mental state on stage. I hope one day, after years of not doing so, I’ll have to bomb just to remember the sensation.

Over the weekend I spent 3 days and two nights at the Mohonk Mountain House. It was amazing, and I recommend it highly to all who have the budget to visit such an amazing place, and so close too. At least, in my perspective to my house. You know what? Fuck it! Even if you don’t have the budget. A little debt is worth, just to have this experience. To finally understand how much money you want to make to keep this lifestyle unchanged. To feel like a king! You see because of my father I always thought I was a poor man. Turns out I’m actually a middle class man, if not upper. Honestly I felt so guilty, I still feel guilty, but I felt guilty too. I shouldn’t be having this privileged experience, but then I look down at my forearm and let out a sigh of relaxing acceptance. Because everyone who can see me expects me to have this experience. And if they deem me worthy, who am I to object.

I watched The Shining, at night, during a winter storm, all while staying at an old hotel. Which was possibly built on Native American land, so you know. Couldn’t skip out on that experience! It was the first time I watched the movie. I was already spoiled that Jack freezes to death. However what I didn’t know, is that basically, only the cool black guy dies. Dick Hallorann was an amazing character, and I literally let out an audible gasp with a following “God Dammit!” when the axe hit him. Honestly, I tried to watch the movie while ignoring the music for the actors. From their experience, there is no music. So when I saw the bat scene with Wendy and Jack I couldn’t help but think from Jack’s perspective if I was him, I’d be like “Yo, I’m just fucking around cause you looking made cray cray with that bat. Honestly, I’m kind of insulted that you’d think to try to hit me with a bat in the first place. Yeah I’m acting kind of weird right now, but you know I’m just silly like that. And you really was just gonna hit me with dat bat, make me fall down these stairs, and just lock me in this storage to die alone. I didn’t even touch you or the kid yet, but after this… trust I’m bout to get the axe. And once I end yo crazy shit, I’ll explain to our son why Mommy was not only NOT a baseball player, she was also a crazy dangerous bitch! And needed to be corrected…” I’d sit him down and say “ya see son sometimes women get in a mood” As you can see my internal cutaway’s have left me a very funny, but lonely man…

I’m writing on MLK day. Listening to the speech is inspiring. Just got to the “I have a dream” part, shit is fire as fuck! I really like how I don’t feel excluded from the dream. Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty free at last! Honestly speaking, if you believe that we work off a hierarchy model or what Jordan Peterson says, then there’s always got to be people on the bottom. So, how can we all be equally free??? Seems like Utopia, which isn’t a bad thing… unless you’re into literature. #sadbois

Sick, but At Least I Got My Paycheck

I’m sick. Not the fun hip sick, but the nasty sweaty lightheaded sick. The one that doesn’t get invited to parties because everybody is afraid that they’re a possible school shooter, but not inviting them to the party is the exact thing that’s going to make them the school shooter on the following Monday. I didn’t do any stand-up last week and probably will not do any this week. The hiatus hurts, but I make it up with writing. Can’t wait for 2020. I feel like an egg ready to hatch. An egg of hilarity… It’s a work in progress. Much like eggs. No, I’m not high. I read somewhere… more like my eyes lazily gazed across my computer/phone screen and somehow I processed this idea, an idea that doesn’t feel entirely fabricated in my memory banks. The idea that when you’re high information gets stored which can’t get accessed when your sober. That is to say if you study for a test high, then you’d have to take the test as high as you were when you studied the material to pass it. Basically, your full potential lies within the ganj. Now here’s the pitch… I discover enlightenment, but here’s the catch. It’s only when I’m high as fuck. Which means to reach enlightenment again I have to smoke more weed. However!!!! The more I smoke the higher my tolerance inevitably becomes. Eventually the more I smoke the further enlightenment crawls away from my clammy grasp. Thus the moral of this story here is enlightenment is like getting high. Really fucking awesome, but should be spaced out by weeks or even months of reflective mental observation. With great power comes great responsibility. Spider-Man is a big inspiration in my life… I feel like the weed/enlightenment idea could be a good movie, or at the very least break even. We’d call it “The Seven Leafed Path” or “What The Buddha Smoked” with cameo appearance from Snoop Dogg and Wiz Khalifa.

Can you tell I’m sick by what I’m writing about? If not just tune in every now and then and soon you’ll know beyond a shadow of a doubt. I hate that nothing feels original. Nothing feels organic. Nothing feels fresh. Everything is made from cheaply made plastic forged from the discarded hopes and dreams of children that Hollywood and the government wire tapped for capitalism. Just for China to laugh at us in Communism while they get rich and fat on the capitalism of Hong Kong while simultaneously suppressing those people’s wish for freedom. In many ways this overarching loop of a system is like an egg. What say you, egg? *He shoots him*

Oh! And I got my paycheck, so at least there’s that… #sadbois

Sorry, I’ve been Busy

I haven’t posted in a while, I know that, and I apologize. Since I’m basically talking to myself, I guess I’m apologizing to me??? I got a new job that takes like 7 hours away from me every day. And on top of that, I have another job that takes away an additional two hours 5 days a week, and I got to school. Chalk up an additional 4 hours to the total. This equals out to…. I’m exhausted. Couldn’t even go do stand-up. Which makes this technically my first hiatus. I’m an over worker at heart. I don’t want to use workaholic because I hate addiction. Even when I’m exhausted I can keep going until I eventually collapse. That’s why deep down I think I can be an awesome writer. I have to force myself to take care of myself, if that makes any sense. I’m deeply hurt by the fact I didn’t suck it up, just go do my set, and leave. But, this new job is really important to me and I have to make sure I get good rest. And I’m a night owl so if I don’t give myself a two hour window to fall asleep I’d be up until 2am. Also, the following day would be work plus school which means I’d be out of the house at 7am and get back in around 9:30-10:00pm. For everyone whose already been doing that and thinks I have no right to complain; this my first time being on this type of work schedule!!! I even lapsed and didn’t realize that I scheduled my appointment with my therapist the same time I scheduled the meeting for the monthly review of my client. Old me would have bugged out, and had like a seizure, or grab the gun. I even felt that behavior pattern encroaching over me like Venom. Thankfully, I was able to calm myself and get to the meeting 30 minutes late. Someone was even later than me, so basically I was absolved of all crimes do to a worse offense or is that not how being late works??? I was also able to have my session with my analyst over the phone. I told my therapist “Even Spider-Man was late to things”. I feel like my therapist sees me as an awkward, but hilarious man child, and she would be correct in that analysis. However, I think I can make a Spider-Man Reference without feeling her roll her eyes through the phone!

Where am I at presently? Gifting you this blog post right now, duh… Don’t worry about these incredible jokes, the noose is at the ready. Suicide is just aggression aimed at yourself because you’re too afraid to aim it at those who hurt you in the first place. Which is why I choose to get banned over gaming servers instead of killing myself. I find it so ironic that as soon as video games became a “sport” I stopped playing them. Sports!!! Don’t even get me started on sports! I hate baseball because it presumes that I know what both sports and sex are like. I know women that can shove a baseball bat up their clam chowder can. Now I got my wife asking me why my baseball bat smells like shellfish. I’M ALLERGIC TO SHELLFISH!!! by that I mean I”M NOT ALLERGIC TO SHELLFISH!!!! it’s kind of like nuts, I just find them, unappealing. I don’t have a wife, I don’t even have a girlfriend. I do have or did have three ferrets from a previous relationship. So basically I’m a divorced dad with three kids. And two of them died! I bet you’re like what?!?!? how?!?!? To save us all time and energy I’ll just simply say the plague took em. Did you know that if you watch black BDSM porn you’re supporting black sex slavery, god forbid they were underage. Then you just slap child to that list of internet crimes, and you’re fucking done buddy. I generally asked a woman “What’s your favorite kind of joke?”, but that wasn’t specific enough so then I asked her “What’s your favorite subject matter to joke about?” She said “I’m into sexual jokes and dad jokes.” So then I was like “That’s perfect! I’m into sex, and dad jokes are my specialty!” That’s one of the greatest dad jokes of all time, and if you can’t see that you’re a hater, and you probably wipe back to front. Sorry I’ve been busy. #sadbois

Compound Post

First, Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I originally wanted make three separate posts this week. That didn’t work out. So I’m combining things I wanted to talk about. On Tuesday I did stand-up and actually made people genuinely laugh. An aspect of comedy, that I now realize, is that you have to enjoy the perspective of making people laugh. I was scared to look at peoples faces. I think that has to do with my anxiety issues, but stand-up and therapy are helping. I find that my conversations off stage are getting noticeably better. Noticed by me. I have a habit of being hyper vigilant of my actions. Which is probably a defense because I’m afraid of how terrible I can be. The fear of hurting everyone causes me to direct the energy towards myself #NarcissisticDefense. I’ll bring this up with my therapist. Went for a job interview on Wed and I got the job! So excited to be making more money. The job itself is also rewarding, so that’s a bonus. Thanksgiving was great, saw extended fam that I haven’t seen in so long. Ate so much food that I made 7 new fat jokes. One of which was so high in cholesterol that it had a heart attack the following day #sadbois. I had a dream that this blog actually gets popular. Hope it was a prognostic dream!

9th Time Doing Stand-Up

Fucking booooooommmbbbbeeeeddddd. The longer you write it out, the more upset you are about it. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. But I can’t help it, I look in the mirror and all I see is high standards, and I haven’t smoked in days. I’m working with a new set I made and while on the mic everything just went blank. You know I’m being trained to be a modern psychoanalyst, which means I’m supposed to be comfortable talking with schizophrenics. I used to be intimidated by this notion, but at this point the schizophrenics seems way easier than stand-up. It’s hard to look people in the face. I guess this goes back to my intimacy problem. I’m terrified of trying to please someone only for them to end up disappointed. I’ll just practice more. Keep going to open mics. Never give up, that’s the motto. I feel like if a bomb ever stopped me from doing stand-up it’ll probably be due to it literally killing me. The people I mean, not the bomb alone. Uuuuggghhhh I just want my mental ideal to match my reality. Alright, I guess that’s enough of me for now. Talk to you next post…. weirdly tho without anyone reading I’m basically talking to myself. So it goes…. #sadbois

Sunny is Dead

This isn’t a reference to the fast approaching winter season. This title is actually referring to my ferret Sunny, who had to be put down. She got really sick, in part due to stress from another ferret of mine, Daxter, who had to be put down in September. So I lost two pets in a matter of months, and now I’m left with my last ferret Jack. He’s younger than they were, so he has a couple more years left, if doesn’t die from stress too. It must be a shock for him. He’s been with these two ferrets for his whole life, and now they’re both, just, gone. Of course while saying this, I know I’m also projecting how I feel onto my pet. I feel shocked that they were here a second ago, and now they’re both gone. This is probably why I feel such a pull to put death in my comedy. I feel like I can’t escape it, which is completely accurate if you want to get to the truth of the matter. No one can escape death. However, Humans like to spend the time they have being alive pretending that they can. Religion was a big factor in my early years. I was raised Roman Catholic, which isn’t that surprising when I follow that up by telling you I’m Italian. Lets be honest I could have just told you I’m Italian, and you could have inferred my whole childhood. From Jesus to pasta.

For some reason this reminds me of the time I was learning about incest in graduate school. If you think that’s funny, wait till you hear the rest of this shit. So I’m sitting at home reading about incest, from the big incestor himself, Freud. And as I’m reading a paper written by him, my family is chilling around me watching a T.V. show. All of a sudden I hear some exchanges that strike me as incest laced subtext, such as “They’re the last people on earth, now they gotta start repopulating”after a short pause I hear “What are you talking about???” “They’re brother and sister!!!”. And so naturally my eyes go bug-eyed, because I’m like bugging over the fact that this shit was right on the money. I was like “YOoooooo, this shit is rrrreeeeeeeaaaalllll!!!!” I’m reading it as it’s happening simultaneously around me. Talk about synchronicity. Of course like most things in psychoanalysis, what I’m experiencing is counter-transference due to the unconscious inter-subjective field that is surrounding me. However, for this very same reason, I’m still afraid of visiting Alabama.

I know I got a little off track. Went from a dead pet to talking about “The Universe” to Freud’s view on incest. We all have our own ways of coping I guess. I love you Sunny, I dedicate this post to you, so it goes…. #sadbois

8th Time Doing Stand-UP

In my blog I’m practicing a writing style called honest truth, lets see how it goes. Tonight, well more like last night, was my 8th time doing stand-up. Side story, I accidentally erased the post I was working on before this one, so I’m gritting my teeth trying to subdue the urge to kill myself while also pushing forward and finally completing what I set out to do! I know the 8th time someone does stand-up isn’t exactly praise worthy. Congratulate me when I sell out, Madison Square Garden. In the post that got erased I talked about how I had to google how to spell Madison Square Garden. I just didn’t want to make her mad, I have a bad habit of second guessing myself when I don’t have to “But if I don’t now, who will?!?!?”. This 8th time was important for me because it was the first time I used my memory mostly for my material rather than my notes. Still used the notes tho… Old habits die hard… Still the experiance was fucking lit! I can use lit in this context because I’m a millennial, Ok Boomer? I don’t care who you are. I’ll Ok Boomer you no matter how old you are. I’d Ok Boomer God if I had the chance.

My whole life seems to have gotten better/acceptable from doing stand-up consistently. Where else are you allowed to fail over and over again and still be allowed to come back for another shot. It’s kind of like sex. Now I kind of understand comedians who refer to Comedy as a woman. She’s as cold and horny as any other woman, but for some reason she’s taking a liking to you and keeps inviting you back no matter how bad you are at smash. And I don’t mean the video game. And I don’t mean cold as in mean or unfeeling, but as how hard it is for me to get a read on if she likes me or not. I know she likes me, but I want her to like like me. She keeps inviting me back so it must mean she like likes me right??? But I bomb so hard, how could she ever think good of me?! Maybe it’s just a pity fuck… And in some naive way I’m thinking that one of these days I’m just going to blow her mind so much that she’s just going to make me bae. Isn’t that some conceited shit! Right when she makes me bae then I’m going to have the audacity make her call me Daddy…. Who the fuck am??? And fuck me to fall back on humility as an escape route from my audacity, right? I just want to get to my ideal. So here’s to my first post, and many more to come. I’m too Jewish to waste the money I spent on this fucking thing…. #sadbois

Introduce Yourself (Example Post)

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

  • Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
  • Because it will help you focus you own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

  • Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • What topics do you think you’ll write about?
  • Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
  • If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.