My spot for the DC Comedy Festival was at the DC Arts Center last Thursday. I get there early. The curator is explaining the homemade astrolabe on exhibit. I kill a couple of hours across the street at Madam's Organ, a restaurant like TGI Friday's except smaller, dirtier and no kids or elderly.
Brian, my friend who lives in the neighborhood, shows up and keeps me company. He's a lifesaver. Brian tells me he was trapped in New Orleans during Katrina and he cancelled his plans to leave town with someone he met in the hotel who apparently had abandonment issues and called Brian's office to complain (?). So Brian's looking for a job, and waiting for the Guinness Book of World Records to send him his application packet for the longest eyebrow hair in the world. Really. I'm not making that up. I can fabricate a better lie than that. Brian's got some Romulan eyebrows.
Brian and I are talking in the alley behind the DC Arts Center as the Baltimore Improv Group plays the improvisational warmup game where one person sings a song with the word from the previous song and everyone sings along. They quit after people who live upstairs began throwing things at them.
I love ghetto justice.
I perform for eleven people. Actually, I performed for Brian while ten people watched.
Saturday I took Eddie Brill's standup class. Every other student except me got technical notes. Eddie and the other students said I should study meditation or do some spiritual work. I have a credibility problem on stage. I dread my schedule. I don't like doing standup anymore.
Eddie and the students helped me realize I still like standup, but I don't like what the failure and anxiety of standup is doing to me. I'm going to try to take the advice of dismissing the need for acceptance by others by ramping up my demand for self-acceptance, and holding what I say and do to my own standards of credibility.