"Wake up Maggie, I Think I Got Something To Say To You"

Time to get my brain going.

This has turned into a journal of sorts - not the initial plan when the directive "Go write, young man" was issued. I'm more of a private person than I end up being, should that make any sense. The fact that this is written eight feet from my bedroom and read by lord-knows how many people is something that has taken me aback in some ways. I neevr intended to share me with this many people. Probably only going to get worse - better?

I woke up today far later than I could have after staying up far later than I should have. My bedroom is in half-organized piles of possesions which I am struggling to pack up. As best I can tell, there is no use for me to still be here, yet I am. Sometimes you should look into the things that hold you up, and I'm trying to see why I'm still sitting at my pile of life and wondering just why I haven't moved it yet.

Not sure what other frontiers there are here at this moment to pursue. My friend and I hit a 'Who's who of what's what' event last night. Intoxicated, unshaven, unironed and uninterested, sporting my revolution hat, I wondered why I was there. It was something of a statement to everyone - self included - that I belong but at the same time, not at all. As I was swaying there, my friend called me to tell me that he was surrounded by crows. Without knowing why, I felt the same way. There I felt on the perimiter of the murder, but of a diffirent kind.

So, as I woke up today, Maggie May was stuck in my head. I know I have to get going. But, then I arose, walked around, and settled in for another day. Another day of what? Another day to share what I'm thinking, another day to be in a place I think I'm done with for the moment. Another day to wonder why I haven't gone. Still - I'm free. I know this.

So, it's not even late-September, but boy, I feel like I'm being used, feel like I was taken away from a home I've never really had and certain I have no more jokes to laugh at. I can't even try anymore, but I'm here - but I don't feel too sad about it.

I Blog, Therefore I am

Seems I struck a chord with people and advertisers with my last post. Ripping off Shakespeare seems to get attention for some reason. And, since there is no such things as bad publicity, I thought I'd hack from another well-known thinker for this one and see what I get. Anyways, much to say, and this intro paragraph is covering none of the bases.

Had an interesting conversation with a friend tonight. The question was what would the school teachers and bosses from the past think of our comedy shows. At first, I started laughing. My past is full of be-wildered old employers and frustrated science teachers whom watched in half-awe as I cruised seemingly aimlessly through their space on their watch. My only goal was to do enough to not get fired or fail, and if I did, big deal - I simply didn't care. These people would watch me onstage and laugh now, I believe. Alot would make sense to them and perhaps help them to understand why I was always absent mentally or physically.

Then I started thinking about the rare exceptions. The school teacher who saw the real me and challenged me to be better and the boss who knew I existed outside the realm of cheap labor and thought? How would they react? What would perenially patient Mr. Dolan think? What would Darryl, the psychic McDonalds manager see? Food for fodder.

I have come to conclude that they would expect more. I am in many ways in stand-up the same I was anywhere else. Without a care. These two mentors-of-sorts never allowed me to get away with what I did because they knew I could do more. I at the time didn't know and wouldn't have cared to have heard, either. "Good enough is good enough for me"

Well, now I am starting to care a bit. I remember in Journalism class being critiqued not for my writing, but for my thinking. I remember being chastised at McDonalds not for freezing the drive-thru in winter, but for being frozen in the face of real life. I have let both skills slide considerably since their tutalege ended.

I have been blessed in my life to have many people stop me, look me in the eye and ask me what I was doing. Many people who pulled me aside and asked where the real me was and when I was intending on being him. When would I allow my potential to by my present. Perhaps now is the time to put into motion that aspect of me. To use my mind as I can and not to prattle on about ugly children, drinking and fisting the monarchy - although I am proud of that one, as I think they would be, too. To use my mind and not to rely on drinking and other activities that lead to ugly children; Then maybe, just maybe, with work and discipline, I can metaphorically fist all 'royalty' along the way.

I guess it comes down to I want to be proud of something more and begin to let the thinkier parts of me take the reins for a bit, and let the drunken fool have his rest.

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I was thinking of ways to tie this in to last idea, but couldn't, so here it is. I love Hurricanes. LOVE THEM!! Destruction!! Not by man!! I love it when mother nature boots us in the ass. Yes - I'll be proper for a moment. It's sad that all these people will lose their homes and liveli.....ah.... who cares! DESTRUCTION! Go Earth! It's guilt-free entertainment. One day, I hope to see on first hand. I can see cocky me strutting into my hotel with CD's and a big grin, and ten minutes after the wind kicks in, crying like a baby in the fetal position wondering why I chose to max my credit card on this. How awesome would that be?




Bring it on, Spammers.

A Blog Entry Is Still A Blog Entry By Any Other Name

It's days like these you don't look forward to but have to reach. I learned that, I think.

Today was a big day in terms of my life on this earth. You see, in the course of the last several weeks, there has been something of an allignment of, well, stuff. The adventure I began on several years ago seemed to reach something of a zenith. The end result of many of my sacrafices and efforts seemed to all cough up at once in front of me, producing for the first time in recalled history of myself, achievement, reward and opportunity.

But, then a funny thing happened.

Having reached this first real step, first success, I found myself with a strange feeling. What? The same feeling of empty that I had before, now minus the illusion of 'saving graces'. The goals I had set for myself were also the standards that I set for myself as happiness. Although there is a sense of accomplishment and pride in me, there is also a couple of realizations. One: much, much more to go. Two: and more importantly - there weren't the answer or the solution, and neither is more.

And then another funny thing happened.

Life went on. It doesn't stop when your world does. The bills stills need to be paid and the plans still have to be made and the sun still rises and falls, but you don't, not in the same way.

Tonight I had a show. Downtown club. Late show. The man at the helms was coming down. I spent the day relaxing, listening to music. New Credit Card in action, no money concerns to think of. A day doesn't get much better than that. I should've killed. Those factors are the sum of an excellent equation as a comic. It should've been enough for me to at least mentally show up, but I didn't. Scripted and aloof, I chugged through 7 minutes of solid placation. Ball not so much dropped as dead to the idea of catching it and having no clue why to, anyways. Sadly, I have learned to fake it and it was acceptable, but both parties agreed something is amiss.

And then life went on again.

I have come to learn that my old ways were all dead-ends. All my dreams came to fruition, and the saying 'Be Careful What You Wish For' is true. Life becomes bigger as you get older and the things that looked so big years ago now seem trivial in comparison. I got to see where I was headed and think that it would be wise now to put up a diffirent sail. I have to choose new ways. I have to have better reasons. I have to take joy in the moment. But the eye must still focus on a goal....

That's what's hard about living. You always think you're doing the right thing until the moment you find out you're wrong. How else to learn but to learn?

And then life still goes on. I have accomplished things and look forward to continiuing. I guess I am now realizing that this phase is ending and the new one is going to look much diffirent. It's just weird to know you have to move past all the things you know, becaue if life goes on, so too, must you...

Pimping Brett Martin

I might be in your city soon making fun of things. Here's where and when. All are at your local Yuk Yuks unless otherwise noted.

September 7-10: Montreal - The Comedy Nest (Maybe Karla Homoloka will show up)
September 15-17: Edmonton (Too far from mall to max credit card)
September 23: Saskatoon (Dreams do come true)
September 24: Regina (Saskatchewan's New York)
September 30-Oct 1: Cranbrook (On the bright side it's a short drive)
October 4-8: Calgary (Return home....again)
October 11: Lethbridge (Sometimes it's for the money)
October 13: Fairview (Nine hours of driving for audience of Harley Mechanics)
October 14-15: Grande Prairie (Who would live there?)
October 20-22: Vancouver (Gonna pee in the ocean and an elevator)


Jokes aside I'm excited to be at all of the above. Look for me at the Saddledome and dozens of gas stations throughout.


I'll post more dates and location should they come.

Waves Along The Way

Wish I could write something now of interest or inisght, something of clear purpose and honesty, but I don't seem to think I can. This is when it's a good idea to at least try, though. Maybe this will be the most insightfully written piece I will ever produce. Maybe I'll just fill sentences with words that will make it sound complex and deep with a touch of the mystic for the sheer imagery of it all simply to make it look as if I actually do have something to say, said it, and did it all as harmoniously and poetic as ever.

I feel like I've splashed upon a new land. A mighty wave took me away, a wave that I was riding for weeks - in other ways, years - full of intense stimuli and experiences. I just enjoyed the wave and never thought about the possibility of land. Think I forgot about land, too. Now that I've crashed ashore, I realize the wave taught me all I need to know for this land, but I have to do it myself. The tide I was on rolled back to the sea. I wonder to myself how big this island is.

My head is blurry with confusion at the bounty of opportunity that sits just ahead. There are endless amounts of options and I am taken a little aback at it all. Feel as if there's a pressure to make some choices; not sure if there isn't justified reason to think that.

My world - as truly as yours is too, readers of this sentence - is in my hands. I have run out of places to hide it and now find myself staring at it as it rotates in my palm curious as to what I want from it. I have inclings but not yet the full knowledge and thus luxury of saying 'That's it'. I feel the time to choose is soon, and the moments ine between are begining to me to look as wasted time, understanding now the gift and potential of what life actually is.

The longest part of the marathon is always the end. The last lap the most draining and the final ten push-ups the most painful, so I expect this to be the case here as well. This should be draining. It's the revolution of a person - something every one is capapble of. To become the person inside you, the person that you want to be for no reason that becuase that's who you are. Marching to the beat of your drummer rather than the dull, vague pounding of a collective set of ideals. It's not simple, but every small vibration of your own beat you can pick up makes every thirsty night spent in the desert worth it. Then one day, you find the ocean that is you. At that point, you can be the one sending waves all over the world.

Guess I rode myself into this, so no anger and no regrets. Just a Cowboy hat, some militaristic clothing and a bag or two of everything I didn't throw away on the way here. What will I build? I should get this sand out of my eyes first.

Maybe Everything Happens

My friend Dan from the United States of America is here and things are fun. It's a visit that essentially started today as we walked kilometer after kilometer taking in the city in which I apparantly live.

It started at the Hockey Hall of Fame. It's the one temple in which worship is not anything of a problem. I believe in all I see and bow down to the power of those that are enshrined. I saw, and showed, all possible pieces of memorabilia that had soemthing to do with the Winnipeg Jets or the Calgary Flames. The Jets, for the hockey-impaired, were my home town team and my first love. We touched the Stanley cup, breaking a vow I had promised myself. I didn't want to touch it until I earned it. In an odd way, I feel as I have. We did some play-by-play, fulfilling another dream of mine, and engaged in a friendly competition that my ultra-competetive nature would not let me lose nor celebrate quietly. It was followed by visiting the Canadian Walk of Fame and talking abstract hypothetical with a hooker. An inspirational, enjoyable day.

It's nice to have a friend who challeneges you to be something better than you are. Some people recieve that trait poorly; I know first hand, there is much similar in me and my American visitor. I'm really enjoying the visit. It lasts another day and I wonder what trouble we can create for ourselves in a city like this.

Then there was America itself. It was great. It opened up, in my mind, the realization that something very big is that close to me in more than just a geographical way. There is, in reality, no line between Canada and America, as there is also no line anywhere else. Lines, metaphorical fences and obstacles are all creations of the mind. The only barrier is will. Cross that 'line' and find that is was all there the whole time.

All in all, the change that I was seeking from the heavens above seemed to be in my hands the whole time. The work will be real. It will be hard, but in every way worth it. This struggle ends but the real difficult work begins. Who am I to complain, though? As two shrines of greatness and a prostitute showed me today, some heart and alot of effort will get you to where you need and wish to be.

Dying Skin and a Re-born Heart

My little America trip was fantastic. I was hoping I could sit down here and write about it all, but I currently find myself in a head-space that is more inrtigued by a callous-y blister on the base of my left pinky finger that any new adventure I took and the new path it showed me. It's dead-skin sort of creating, now.

I watched a movie called 'Grand Canyon' tonight that I really rooted for but disappointed me in the end. It's from around 1990, so well before they invented the DVD that they should have thought twice about formatting it onto. It features Steve Martin, Danny Glover and Kevin Kline. Now, usually, Danny Glover and Kevin Kline are enough for me to not rent whatver it is that I'm considering (except Pure Luck, that is) but this came highly recomended by a friend who won't teach me how to spell certain verbs.

It's about life and yadda, yadda, yadda. Two and a half hours of being preached a simple message that could have been condensed into ten minutes - and, should you ask, I have set the timer on this piece to 9:57. One thing did strike me, though. Steve Martin - who is my favorite non-related Martin - plays a movie producer who creates ultra-violent films. Go carnage! He's a very smart man, too. He tells his friend in the movie that films, done correctly, help to solve the little riddles of life. To me, very true. A movie like Magnolia helped me to answer many questions I had. What 'Grand Canyon' failed to solve, however, is the great debate of why I should have sat down for two and half hours of schlock (just came up with that word - understand it or fuck you) when my bed and books were 10 seconds away. Choices, they say.....

I talked to one of my roomates tonight for quite awhile - one of the two that does not do comedy (I call then human beings) and spent the night forgetting about anything outside the realm of being alive. It was nice. I found I have not really spoke too much with them. I have been absent alot, not just physically, which is odd, because I sincerely like them. It's been a learning process. Living with two beautifully wonderful women has been man-making. The role of roomate to relative stranger is diffirent relationship than most I have encountered. There is no bond other than the fact that you share the place you live in, which as you learn, is a big fucking bond. We've all been very friendly and a cohesive unit, but a unit that had boundaries, and tonight they started to come down. Funnily enough, I 'move out' (please, don't ask, I'm still figuring out myself) in 17 days, so it's a case of not-so-little, not-so-late. Most importantly of my time here is the fact that the girls opened their door to me, a complete stranger who left his house in mid-day for no definative reason, and have allowed me to blossom in their humble abode without ever making me feel like it wasn't mine, too. This house has been a man incubator for me, and all under the secure eyes of two wonderful girls who never wanted anything more from me than to be. I love them. Thanks.

OKAY - no more nicey stuff. Time to get racist. Oh, shit, the timer is up to 9:54....

The Calgary Flames

I have to admit I have a crush on a hockey team. The Calgary Flames. As a whole. Is that weird? This is getting stupid. I wrote my last piece, signed out, then started reading online information about them and digesting any information I could intake. I'm stalking them. This is getting ridiculous - and fun.

Let me first explain the facts at hand. They're fucking awesome. Nothing pleases me like seeing something, anything, struggle like that franchise as a whole did - and then to turn around and come so, so close to the pinnacle. They just missed, and that, as a whole, is the story and the ensuing chip on the shoulder that this team will be defined by. Will they take that ONE extra step? Take some time in the winter and check it out - what the taste of desire and denial can do to a unit - and think of what it would do to you. I am fueled by a similar equation.

That's one part of it. The other part is it's just so mindlessly fun to be a fan. Sports is an absolute. If your team wins - they are better. Unless they lose, that is, in which case the other team still sucks, anyways. Logic is of no consequence in the world of sports-fannery. The Vancouver Canucks and Edmonton Oilers suck and nothing can change that fact. You show me 100 Stanley Cups and you still suck. Why? Because I like the Calgary Flames. I'd take a Steve Begin and three Rick Tabaracci's before I'd consider a Wayne Gretzky. Trevor Linden has scabies, Chris Pronger is washed up and all the while Daryl Sutter makes Einstein look like a man who was kicked in the head by mules.

And there'e the way they won. Not on %100 talent (although that'll change this year) but on grit, heart, and wanting it more that anything and anyone else, except Tampa Bay, I guess, who - although they really suck, too - cheated.

All aside, there a great allegory for life. Come close, take the time you need, then zero in, because nobody's gonna stop you if you don't stop yourself. Yep - I love the Calgary Flames, and I oh, so hope they invite me to the dance

The Diffirence Between Real and Inconsequential

Pretty funny day, today. I may have ended up getting a credit card, which to me is good news. It's not the VISA I'd prefer to have, but it's the one I'll take - as will many corner beer stores. Heh heh. And record stores. Heh heh. Truthfully, it'll be nice to have a financial parachute that I can pull for myself. It's like a money life-jacket, and the kind of people at my financial institute have made fans of me - until the first day to pay, that is.

Had a fun show at the local YUK YUKS tonight. Just felt like hacking out there. Fuck you. Anyways, it was neat-o. I had no desire to 'give it' so as soon as I walked up, I made light of a girl in the front row who was unhappy. She just was so frowny. So, I asked her the basic why and how, then I gave her some flowers from another girl at another table. Then I rambled on about my potential credit card and made fun of religion. Good times. I ended up going long, as the manager told me not long after I walked off. I said I was sorry. He said, 'No you're not', smiled and walked away. I was laughing. Not only was he right, he was cool as hell about it. Good people, some of these people.

On the way to the club, my friends (yup - two of them) and I seperated at the Subway and raced to the next show on diffirent subway paths. I won the race. Felt good to compete, although I have to admit I have little control over the speed of trains I'm not driving. It showed to me that I am the master navigator (yes, naviagtor) and enjoyed my cheap sensation of victory. Although I got THERE quicker, I got to where I was going on time.

Then a cap off at a bar, which is becoming oh, so tedious. I can be in a full bar and still see wall-to-wall. That's a transparant joke if you didn't catch it. Must I explain everything? I have never noticed how many people name-drop in the course of conversation. It's some cheap plea for acceptance and pathetic attempt to gather some sense of self-worth that is derived from nothing more than a name recognition. As if I would care who you know - unless it's Jarome Iginla, in which case that's SO FUKCING AWESOME! Angelina Jolie and Mick Jagger. Do you love me now?

And now I stay awake because things are good now. That's another reason for my insomnia. Sometimes is caffeine and gut-wrenching angst that keep me up, but other times it's nothing more than enjoying the after-glow of achievement and sitting back and thinking that, yeah, maybe all the steps were the right ones and why, oh why, would you ever want to sleep when you can feel like that instead?

Out Of Body Experience & Other Things Deemed To Be Bullshit

I had an out-of-body experience the other day. I was sitting on my couch, taking in an intense spiritual conversation with my friend when it happened. I just sorta rose from within. It was like I stood, but my physical stayed seated. I never believed in that before that point, despite hearing on several accounts from many people that it happens. I thought it to be bullshit, but it's not. It's actually quite nice, and I intend on doing it again.

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Proximity is the trait I find most attractive in women. I think that is everybody's dearest trait in a potential mate. Can't dig something you've never seen or are not around. Whether proximity is at the bi-product of a random universe or supplied through divine Providence is up to you, beloved reader, to determine. Just think the next time you find yourself fancying a potential partner, which factor is of higher importance in your desire than proximity?

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I like walking in this city, but it's got no soul. Everybody is in an enormous rush to get somewhere, anywhere. I have made less eye contact in Toronto than anywhere I can recall, and I've been to Moose Jaw. The people of Toronto are all business oriented. Living seems to have fallen to the wayside on the list of importance, somewhere behind sneering and handing out business cards. For the record, I have always sneered myself and find trace levels of comfort in it.

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Flames are gonna win the Cup this year. My connection and bond with this hockey team is bordering on strange.

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I'd love to make a 'To-not-do list'. Everyday I'd get the sensation of accomplishment as I'd stare at the endless list of everything I vowed not to not undertake. What better feeling than knowing it's Tuesday and I already didn't mow the lawn this week.

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My mind gets all thinky when I'm up all day......

AM Thinking, FN Computers

Son of a bitch. I just wrote a fucking thesis on depression and the computer miscomputed. It's the second major entry on the subject that I've tried to post on here in the last couple of days that has, for some unknown reason, failed to make it online. The Universe must be telling me to shut the fuck up and move on.

Anyways, to coles-note it, I was in MAJOR funk, had a cry, got out of it. Much more emotionally invloved that that, but that's the gist. Moving on....

I'm going to Michigan this weekend. I have never been and am excited. I have no idea what to expect from it. I'm doing a show and am happy to meet, a little ahead of schedule, the populous that I shall rag the hell out of for years to come. Bring it on, America, I'm coming for YOU! I picture myself as Uncle Sam as I write that.

No shows here to speak of in the short-term. Just stuff to get done. Baby steps to take to keep the feet moving. I used to do thse things out of a perverse sense of fear that if I didn't, chaos would reign and I would probably die. Now, I just want to. I just want to keep going forward.

The Taber school killer just escaped from his parole house two blocks away from my house. Yes, somewhere lose on the streets of my fair city lurks a mad killer with a fine eye for corn. Maybe I'll pass on my Flames hat for the next day or two. I don't want to remind him of Alberta - I'm sure he's a little sensitive on the topic.

I'd write more, but damn if I'm not a little peeved about those two posts. They probably would have garnered me a Peabody or something, but everything happens for a reason, and that likely to notify that as well and dandy as it to talk and write about getting over depression, no action serves to better one's mind that to act.

Titles are Useless

It's Sunday and I slept most of it. My sleep pattern has gone into over-strange. I sleep when I wish to and don't if I don't. It has led me to some long nights, short days and more than one all-nighter.

Kingston was good, although it's a struggle to say just how. It was unconventional in every possible manner yet still it worked. I gave myself an encore and broke the fourth wall with the MC - and I still feel like digging deeper. Something is brewing.

I'm going to Michigan next week. I'm doing a show in Port Huron, which if you look on a map, is located right near the place where your dreams come true. I'm excited to get my shot at America. I figure the day will come in the not so distant future where America will be my primary market place, so I best be meeting the folks now.

This writing is forced, I'll tell you. I have no clear idea of anything at this point. I find myself acting on the purest level of instinct that I have and every other frivolous word, action and thought seems thrown aside. As I said, something is brewing, and a calmness has descended upon me.

I have nothing else to say.

Goodwill

So I'm back in Toronto and have become a bit of a morning person. I have been up since 8:30 and, despite a yearning for a nap, will stay up until my 'thang' is done. I'm learning that it's ALOT more relaxing to wake up early and quietly and peacufully go about my day than is to sleep-in and rush through it. Who would have thought a cure for the apparant lazy act of sleeping in is something that makes you that much more sedate?

I see the gound-work that I've been doing is starting to yeild some results, but my enthusiasm is tempered with the knowledge that if everything were to stop now, my crop would be a bust. That said, I can see the change, and it's nice.

One of the changes in my life has been my, er, looks. You're not supposed to notice things like this, but my improved appearance has been resulting in some unseen-to-this-point behaviour. I was buying corn the other day, and the corn-lady gave me two free cobs and a bonus smile. The gift of corn was not an isolated incident. Gotta stop saying corn. My presence is now a blip on several radars and, as entertaining a change as it is, the part of me that will always be me is watching it with detatched amusement. Funny - still feel like me.

You're also not supposed to say things like this, but I'm going to. I was coming home on the Subway yesterday from the airport when an individual selected to sit beside me. She was in her late forties, and may of had a mild retardation. After a few stops, she proceeded to read a pamphlet which caused her left elbow to dig into my right stomach area. Not painful, but as annoying a senstaion as I have felt. For several stops, frustration and rage mounted within. It was a serious breach of public transit etiquette. You don't touch anybody. But, she was kinda retarded, so what could I do? I sat and stewed. Felt like a catch-22. If I say something like "Get your goddamn elbow off me, I fucking hate it", I'm the rude guy who yells at mentally handicapped people in public. If I let it slide, I'm the waif that allows life to trample on my liberty. Areas of grey are for pussies. I couldn't win.

In the end, even being bothered by it is not something I'm supposed to say, but I'm going to and already have. My indignation is at the barbarity of the situation in which I was placed, leaving me with no recourse but to stand-up and walk away, because what heartless beast of an individual can look at a supposedly inferior being and ask it to stop doing what it's doing? But who am I to complain? Elbow in the midsection? That's the biggest sign. She wanted me and I'm damn honored.



Actually having some fun again.....

As Close To Nirvana As I've Been

Wow. The Foo Fighters concert was something else. It transcended simply being a concert into whole diffirent realm. Without a doubt, the best display of rock and roll I have ever seen. I am really happy and privilaged to have seen it.

For those of you who don't know, the Foo Fighters are a rock band fronted by Dave Grohl, the former drummer of Nirvana, whom are easily regraded as the most important rock band in a decade. After the suicide of singer/songwriter Kurt Cobain, Dave Grohl didn't stop. Just a little over a year later, he released his first album with his new band, and with it, continued what is one of the best stories anywhere, let alone rock.

Grohl sat back as Cobain spilled every ounce of what he was into his music, and what Cobain was, was pure fury. Nirvana was less of a band that they were an emotion, an attitude that destroyed everything that was near it, and sadly, Cobain was the final victim. It would have been so simple to walk away after witnessing all of that. To forget it all, to find a new way, whatever way it is that leads you away from that sort of result. Grohl never did. He not only re-built, he not only survived, he has thrived and found something far beyond nirvana, and on Monday, he shared with 15,000 people. I was honored to be one.

The concert was, from the first note, an exercise in energy. He made rock fun. Rock can - and often times should - be dark. But not for the Foo's. It's non-stop, head shaking FUN rock and roll. I sat there and was brought to life by the music.

What impressed me the most was to see Grohl. I had followed Nirvana very closely and always imagined how difficult and intense it all must have been. And then, to see one of the members not only rise from the ashes, but surpass what has been done, is a story in achievement that has not been told enough. Dave Grohl went to the edge, saw it and came back to make the most positive rock I can imagine.



Life goes on, and if we're lucky enough, we can go along with it. Seeing expamples like him make me even more compelled to see what lays ahead - and to make the changes to get there.

In Lieu of Interesting

I crashed a wedding last night, somewhat. My friend called me and asked to meet up with him at a wedding which he, too, was not technically an invited guest at. I thought it rude to turn down the offer. Life imitates fiction, I suppose.

It was a nice reception held in a country club. I felt a little akward strolling in, but got used to it as I made my rpunds. My attire of blue jeans and ripped shoes with a wrinkled shirt felt to me to be perfect. The unkempt revolution continues!

To make things funnier, I ran into a friends step-sister and we had a laugh at my uninvited presence. It reminded me to call her brother and ask how he was doing. All in all, the bride was beautiful, I never ended up identifying the groom, the beers were tatsy and I really regret that I didn't sign the guest book.

I'm going to the Foo Fighters tonight. I am very, very excited for it. I have been reading reviews of them in the paper, and all reports seem to indicate that the concerts are %100 rock and roll all the way through. ROCK ENERGY FUEL ME!

And all else remains fine. I can feel that much is happening now and I find myself oddly calm in the eye of it. I'm enjoying my time again.

Almost Home

As the weekend draws to an end here, so too, does my vacation. I have the big event, yet, the Foo Fighters concert, which is on Monday, and then another wave of good-byes and see you soons'.

It's been nice to be back. I have learned much about myself this time through. I have been blessed with the gift of both time and distance in order for me to properly dissect what is new about me and what is diffirent about here. Much has changed on both fronts.

My new demeanor has gotten a good test-drive. Yet again, it has been misread as attitude or arrogance, but it remains neither. There is a virtue to silence, at least for me. I watch quietly, and realize that perhaps my 'new' ways are actually my real ways, and the time is nearing for me to follow that path into the unknown. To call it a new direction would be untrue, but to say I must soon follow another calling is a tad of an understatement. It is my future, and I am gathering the strength to navigate it now that I realize that much of my old life will not accompany me on it.

I hit a new level of understanding on stage as well, that has, of course, left me wondering. I frequently day-dream about being on-stage. I find myself thinking ahead of what it may be like. Just yesterday, I was in my conjuring up and image of me doing a show, and then reasing my arms, and the audience erupts. Last night, then, while doing my show, I did a joke and there was this buzz after. Somewhere between the end of a laugh, but nowhere near done enjoying the joke. I raised my left arm, and they erupted. Dreams come true, apparantly. Now to figure out how to bring life to the rest of them.

And, so, now it's Sunday night. I'm looking forward to going home, knowing full well that I have three weeks left in my house while figuring at the same time that my real home is not too far in the distance.

Summer Vacation

I am currently on a summer vacation. First one in years. I'm not really relaxing, though. I'm getting ready for autumn and the start of a new comedy season - one where I'm going to raise signifigantly my game and my value in the market. Confidence is not a sin.

It's been fun so far. I went river-rafting yesterday. I have never done anything like that before. Very, very fun and peacfeul. The current just takes you while you just sit and relax, hands and toes dangling into the fresh water while you soak up the sun and make of-color jokes about things you should never speak of. There is something extremely satisfying about being at the mercy of the current as it takes you towards the next rapids downstream, while you wait, laugh and make it through it. Pleasant.

I decided to cliff-jump, too, which seemed a great idea. It was around 15 feet, and looked fun. The river below was the same one I was rafting in, which never got more than 4 feet deep. I viewed the river as a tame friend, one that would pose no problem for a confident man like me to take-on.

Swimming is not like a bicycle. You don't just 'hop' back on and find it as effortlessly as you recall it being, which upon thinking back after the fact, I realized it never actually was. I was always a bad swimmer, but I figured it was a skill that in time, you just developed. Long story short - I didn't think until the second my foot jumped off the cliff. At that exact moment, I realized that I have never jumped off a point of that hight, either, and the fall was not a pleasant one.

I hit the water and expected to hit the bottom and bounce back up. I never hit it - it was very deep, and instead, I lost my breath and a panic set in. By the time that I surfaced, I was already low on air and high in lung-water. I was couging up water and having a great deal of trouble swimming. No beach was close to me - all were far swims, and I realized I was in trouble. I remebered at that point that I couldn't swim well at all, and my shirt, shorts and shoes were not going to help me, either. I dog-paddled, but couldn't stay up. More panic. I lost my breath. More panic. Can't stay aboove water. Glug. Breathe. Glug. Cough. I'm dead.

I tried to get on my back and practice some meditation that I had learned, and it worked. Still I was panicked and fucked, but at the moment, I was ok. What seemed like a minute had passed and I began to realize again that I was fucked. No way out. No swimming ability came to me, no solution apparant. I called for help.

When you call for help, you need breath, of which I had none. What came from me was a plea so meek that anyday now I expect the deed to earth. No help was coming, but luckily, I saw a friend of mine in equally bad shape, being saved my another friend of mine. I saw them swim to the nearvy cliff we jumped from, and I knew safety was a minute away - if I could muster up the energy.

I will spare the suspense. Clearly I made it. I coughed for awhile when I made land and experienced a headache of oxygen depravity that was as foreign a feeling as my brain has felt. Woozy and tired, I made it out, and had a great laugh.

I made it - but almost lost it on my terms, as my fault, and I have learned that nothing quite empowers you like losing and then re-gaining your own life.

The vacation continues.