Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Checking in. . .


I'm sitting in Central Park across the street from where John Lennon was killed.

I'm so lonely and sad right now. I wish I were performing tonight. I'm so happy when I am performing and so lost and rudderless when I am not.

I'll go anywhere and perform. I don't want to teach anybody anything with my comedy anymore. I don't want to be pedantic or abrasive. I just want to let my natural God-given gifts shine forth, for I do believe in God and I do believe that my gifts were bestowed upon me by Him, who I prefer to call Him. I take no credit for that which I can do. I can only attribute that to the Divine.

But what I destroy--that is all mine. Destruction of one's abilities comes from the Self.

I don't want to be subtracted from humanity. I want to be poured into the stream; giving to life and not taking from it.

Children in strollers still piss me off, though. Yelling balls of compressed want, they seem to me.

Dogs are nice, though. I love dogs. I make a point to stop and pet every dog I see.

I wish I had more time to write.

I am a comedian. I am performing September 3rd, my one-man show, at Ars Nova at 54th Street at 10th Avenue. I am also performing Monday, August 25th at the Algonquin Theatre at 123 East 24th Street.

I often worry I will not have achieved anything before I die.

I told this girl after the show in San Francisco that I liked her glasses. She let me try them on. I was going to ask her out before I remembered that I lived in New York now.

That was a very fun show. I always feel like I'm coming home when I perform at The Purple Onion. I think of Mario, the owner, and how cool I feel to be embraced by real Italians. "You know this is your room," he always tells me.

So much I have taken for granted this past year. For there is so very much I have to be grateful for. Yet there is a undefined longing that has always existed deep inside me. I feel its pains in moments like this, after 4pm in Central Park when shafts of sinking sunlight sift through foliage overhead and humanity in its various shapes and sizes and colors and age brackets flow in and out

How can I start over? But not start over entirely, for that would be too painful. How can I pool my resources and proceed from a position of strength and not weakness?

Are we not all of us alone? Am I not unique in this regard?

I am a comedian. When that fact is aligned with my present state, and only then, does my world make sense and things seem not so very bleak--or, at best, not completely insoluble.