Thursday, March 17, 2016

More Fear and Loathing

It's after midnight and I have been practicing ventriloquism for several hours now. My practice ritual has stepped up a few notches. In the past the mirror was my friend. However, now I am filming myself. It is intense because not only are you filming yourself, but then you have to play it back and it is terrible watching yourself. TERRIBLE. As a matter of fact, Robert DeNiro hates watching himself.

My mentor in Vegas has me working on a new act. He's such a good guy and we speak at least once a day. The guy is technically my manager, but in the past I have had managers drop the ball on me. He's truly guiding me therefore he is so much more. But I am making the videos of the new act and then sending them to him. And then it is time for a joke by joke. More this, more that, more cowbell.

I also made from this weekend and he is having me send him new material to get his feedback. This is a good guy. Not only is he passionate about comedy, but he really knows what he is talking about. He worked with me on reshaping my act for the better part of 4 hours, and it was like night and day. As a matter of fact, filming myself was his idea. So far it is helping, because as he explained you never get an accurate idea of what you are doing in the mirror. So true.

I have been pouring over old ventriloquist videos, mostly the legends. They are amazing. For as good as I am, and for the successes that I have had, I have a long way to go before I can even touch them. These guys are the whole package in a way my generation of vents could never be. I am inspired, but at the same time I am painfully aware that there is much work to be done. Life was so much easier when I was just shooting off bullshit in my blogs about all the times I killed or all the times my fans recognized me or my puppets. Yeah, I got wrapped up in the bullshit of it all. Bullshit. And here I was so clouded by my own ego unaware that I have such a long way to go.

Or maybe I was aware and the bullshit became like a drug, making the ride less painful as well as the truth. Self-awareness is a mofo.

Either way, I am becoming quite aware of my own mistakes onstage. For me comedy is serious business. If I don't hear the first laugh in a certain time I freak. Then I resort to doing something dumb because the ends justify the means even though it cheapens my act. Mind you I always forget the audience wants to laugh and to have fun because I am so fixated on doing well. Mind you I always chase after the punchline because I am so eager to get there that I rush and I talk superdupersuperdupersuuuuuuuuppppppppeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr fast. And I forget that I have to sell myself AND HAVE FUN.

Either way, I am wearing the burdens of the last two years on my back. I signed myself away on a project I will not name that made me rather visible. Because I didn't know about asking price, I answered fan mail broke and had people tell me they saw my program on TV when I didn't know how I was going to feed myself. As a matter of fact, I found out I was on Dutch National Television a half hour after getting my second set of eviction papers.

Yesterday, a situation was kind of crazy but I had to stick up for myself. It was a rock and a hard place kind of thing. Needless to say, I probably burned a bridge but oh well. It's fine. I was going to lose by getting a backbone and by being a doormat. There was no winning. It made me second guess the loyalty of some people I had been good to, but the whole situation was impossible. Still, they expected too much from me. I let them know this, but who cares about that?

They say they will make it up to me. Famous last words. Either way, I don't care. As my mentor explained, I have bigger fish to fry. If they call me, great. But if they don't, oh well. Part of me hopes they don't call me. I don't trust them.

Of course as I was having the eternal weekend of growing pains and the week from hell my mentor, the booker and this lovely club owner all let me know this was growing pains. Fucking growing pains. Oh, and I am not allowed to say fuck anymore onstage. Fucking fucktard. So I have to fucking get it out here. I know, I sound like an angry child with nothing to say and it sounds worse onstage, trust me. But I am allowed to have my moment.

Deep down, I do fear I won't get to where I want to go. When I go to Vegas, and I go again soon to work with my mentor, I will pass Caesar's Palace enviously as I always do lusting for my spot on the mainstage. When I pass Colbert, Radio City, or Carnegie Hall I will look wistfully wondering when it will be my turn.

Until then, my throat is sore from my intense new practice regimen. I had a half a plate of steak nachos yesterday as an "I'm Tired and Hate Myself" snack and had the other plate today. I am watching Magic because for as crazy as it sounds Corky is a hero to me, and I hope to be that good even though he's not real. I just sneezed. May is talking to me. Probably time for me to go to bed and maybe interact with people a tad tomorrow.

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