Wow, has it been that long?

Anyway...I had a lovely vacation this weekend in beautiful Chicagoland.  My buddy Janet and I went to a dance performance.  It was pretty modern and extremely physical (in a body-slamming sort of way), introduced by film and some pretty humorous hosts - picture drag queens if they were acted by women.  (The company is the Breakbone Dance Company and please, if you can, go see them.  They're sweet and gorgeous, besides being incredibly strong and talented.)

During intermission, I overheard two women next to me, chatting.  They were actors and noted how performers rarely cross out of their "comfort zone" - actors see plays, dancers see dance, and the like.  They talked about how great it was to see performances in an entirely different discipline; besides building community, it was creatively stimulating.  

I wholeheartedly agree.  At the well-intentioned risk of paraphrasing Mike Daisey (an amazing monologist - seen him? You should), we should support the local arts - who better understands that than artists?   And from years of watching shows - standup, sketch, solo, music, and more - I find myself taking notes, frantically in the dark, that generally aren't even about the show itself.  It may be something I learned from the show; it may be a germ of an idea for something I'm working on, or even something completely new.  

My advice to you, creative types, whether or not you're stuck in the rut of your particular proclivity, is to branch out.  Improvisors, go see a series of one act plays.  Dancers, hit an open mike.  Stand ups, go to a free concert.  Try a poetry slam or a trapeze show or wander an art gallery opening.  

Your brain will explode, in the best possible way.

In the spirit of good and pro-active creativity, I am actually consciously writing this post rather than waiting 'until inspiration strikes' because, well, I've decided that's just lazy and less than productive.

That may seem totally unrelated to the desired subject matter of this post, but it's not.  What I wanted to talk about was how proud I am of our 2nd Anniversary of SuperEgo Comedy.  What it gets me thinking about is how neat it is to have a comedy partner.

First off - SuperEgo Comedy, an idea sprouted by me and fertilized with the help of Dale Sorenson, my comedy partner in crime (oh, he's going to love that analogy!), came about over two years ago.  I won't bore you with the details, but I will say that I made a fine choice. Considering we're both - how can I say this gently - dommy control freaks (but in a swell way I assure you), it is quite a neat partnership.

Last night we celebrated our second anniversary with a bang (sorry for the pun for reasons that will be clear soonish).  With a full house and lots of good will, and flowers from John Morrison - the man from whom we gladly and brightly stole it all when it came to putting together our show - we had a glorious time.  And wandering from straight bar to straight bar, had a lovely fried feast at Nice Guy Eddie's.

Last year we came up with the idea to do a roast; hilarity ensued.  This year, we didn't come up with a damn thing until the very very very last minute...where I ended up in a holy panic printing the nasty from my work computer network on the way to the show.  (Not only is Dale a great creative partner, but he sometimes dispenses free emergency tech reassurance!)

We came up with it through email, ultimately random, from reading one of our favorite SuperEgo regular's blog - and it just goes to show that a group mind - even between two people - is truly amazing.  We went from looking at our second anniversary bash (nothing to sneeze at, mind you) as a dejected "Maybe a pizza...and some chips...." to an enlightened and excited "Holy crap let's do this." 

It's nice to be on the same twistedly artistic wavelength with someone, is what I'm saying. It's nice to know someone well enough to write porn about them.  And when a couple of physically incompatible control-freak dommy sorts get together, great things can happen.

Doing our post-mortem chat today, we talked a lot about ideas, about what makes an artist. About how we make art.  One of the neatest things we do, besides make our own art (define it how you will - that's part of being an artist), is allow other people to do so, five minutes at a time.

I consider myself lucky to be able to do that.

I consider myself lucky to have a smart and funny partner who inspires me not only to allow other people to make their own art, but to make art myself.

Here's to Year 3.  Perhaps we'll cap it off with buzz cuts or a pie eating contest; I can't tell you now.  Whatever we do, it will be brave and it will be ours and it will be art.

And here's a little something for y'all to enjoy.  From a couple of playwrights, authors, poets, dreamers and artists.

(In Year 3, there will probably be boobs.  Just saying.): 

PS: NSFW!

Comedy Court.

As a comic and a lawyer, I am appalled on so many levels.

So I'm planning to write the anti-fatty fat chick show.  Hooray!

What should I look for in a director?  Girth? Mirth? Self-worth?

Damn, I be funny.

The title of this blog notwithstanding, being a dick also includes, for you blithe young things new to the world of the arts and the artsy:
- being a flake
- being a fuckup
- being a dumbass.

Perhaps I should be more articulate.  And for the three of you who may or may not read this, perhaps it will be enlightening.  And besides, since I think three is a generous estimate of this blog's readers, I feel free to vent, despite having my name on the title of this web site and all.

And vent I will, because I'm not amused.  It's over and done, and I can't roll back time.  But I can certainly vent.  If you have any issue with my ventilation, please contact management
After a lengthy hiatus (another story for another comedy day), I decided to do an audition show at the Laugh Lounge, a club whose management I do admire.   Having been a little rusty, and having to run down a bunch of people to come see me, it was not an undertaking I took lightly.

I had specific reasons for doing the show.  I'm at a bit of a crossroads with the whole standup thing right now; maybe a rut.    I don't know if club comedy is the goal right now.  I do know that i still enjoy performing and writing and am always looking for opportunity, and am starting to get my proverbial act together.

I wanted, however, to get a new DVD of myself.  I wanted to show that I'm physically different, for one.  I wanted a decent and recent video of myself doing standup.  Also, a friend had a really sweet connection that i wanted to take advantage of (at his request, he was going to pass my DVD on to a club owner).  Again, opportunity.

The primary reason I did this show was to get a DVD.   And as much as I love the Lounge, they don't have a taping system for comics available.

I asked around, and posted in a community to whom I thought would consider me worthy of assistance.  Let it be said that I've done lots of favors for people round those parts;I'm not looking for payback but what the hell ever happened to karma?  I offered to pay a fair amount, buy drinks and what not.

I contacted one person who managed to get back to me, after a few days, saying they would get back to me.  I have yet to hear from them.

Another person contacted me and agreed to do it (so I put aside worrying about Person 1 ever contacting me).  Person 2 made all the arrangements with me and I was pleased.

What happens? Person 2 - someone whose work I had admired previously, who I thought for sure would be responsible - fails to appear.  No call.  Nothing.

In summary:
I do a show whose only purpose is for me to get a video.
I enlist help, after some struggle, to get a video.
This person fails to show up.
I have no video of the show whose only purpose was for me to make a video.

It was a decent audition, too.

But now i don't have a tape to give to the bookers at MajorComedyClub Where I have Connections.  I can't submit to festivals.   I can't post it on this site.

Person 2 thought it was next week.

I can't help it but I am still quite angry about this.
It never fails to amaze me, time after time, how thankless, cavalier and just plain flaky people in this 'profession' are.  I can't believe, after being a professional person in many fields for many years, how naive I am about how flaky and indifferent people are, falling back on their artsiness as an excuse.

This isn't the first example but it is the one that pains me most, and makes me severely reluctant to do things for folks in the future.

This is not a blanket indictment of performers - I have worked with many people who returned things on time, treated me with respect, and actually mustered up an appropriate thank you.  Perhaps this is a bit of a whine.  But the most professional people - often the most talented ones - never let courtesy and professionalism leave them.

If you are good, not being a dick will help you be even better.

I'm still angry.  It's futile, I know.  The only thing I can do is try again.  And not rely on people who I don't affirmatively trust.  And think twice about giving of myself.

When it comes to being an artist, don't let anyone steal your joy.  Don't let anyone tell you that you are not good enough to do what brings you joy.  Just don't play in their backyard anymore.

It makes me sad that those who purport to foster a sense of artistic community are arbitrarily, almost cruelly exclusive.  Exclusivity is the enemy of joy.

A community of artists can be an extremely joyful thing.  Those who dare to crush it with tunnel vision and thoughtlessness don't deserve to have one or belong to one.

I truly believe this.

"She needs to lose thirty pounds or gain fifty.  In-between has no place in television."
- Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) 30 Rock

"I think that was the first rape scene I ever laughed at."
- Doug M.

Great class, so far (untitled politically-based improvised show project)!

Hoping you'll bring this exercise to your smart little troupe wherever you are!  (Drop me a line for a fuller explanation.  But just enjoy this beauty of commitment for now)

This is pretty sad.  Oh, Canada!

Tony Rosato (jailed) and purportedly schizophrenic.