OKAY THIS IS ALL FUCKED UP. THE BOTTOM PART BEFORE THE ***** THINGIE. should be the first section. i think. my laptop is totally fucked. so you should read that second part first. i think.
First of all, I have to apologize to Trig for the long ass Title. He hates that I do this. He made clear that it’s not endearing. He also loathes that I don’t put a Cap at the beginning of each sentence. It’s too late to do that on this post because I’m seriously lazy but I will do my best to do better in my next one. this whole section is pretty much moot because he has put up a post with a long ass title. so it's either mocking me or its' that Imitation Is the Sincerest Form of Flattery.
But the title thing? Crap.It’s my way of reminding myself what I want to include in my post. Since I no longer send messages to people when I have a new post. Which I did on OS. And which probably aggravated people. But I want/wanted people to know the subject because I have 2 kinds of posts. The pretty or very dark ones. And the lighter ones that I hope are funny. Or at least partly comical. The writing voice that I call my Grim Subjects With Humor Thang --hey, tink. It’s a real thin line because you can’t be too angry or too self-pitying. So when I’m able to get in to that Zone, well, I kind of leave my body. I’m sure that’s true for all kinds of creative people. For me, creativity is very close to spirituality.
So, anyway, the lighter pieces. A good while ago, I did standup comedy open mikes 12 times. I bombed the last time but not really because I headed it off at the pass by saying, “fucking shit, this would be so great if I wasn’t fucking bombing.” Which made everyone laugh and broke the tension. And I was able to find my way back. When the comic is failing, the people watching get really anxious. They want someone to acknowledge what is happening. And they just want it to stop. I was so lucky because whatever I was doing hit the mark and I got laughs and also applause. I was told by my comedy buddy. Because I’d been outside myself. Which was why it was so important for me to have someone like this. With me. To video my set and makes notes and such. His name was Don Looney and he was and he was an excellent friend and support.
Well since godiverse can be such a major asshole and you have to be really specific with him/her/it because he is very busy. I forgot to ask that my buddy should be alive. So Don had a stroke and he was dead. Which was very annoying and and seriously heartrending.
(hmm I have once more strayed from the point that Trig hates my long long titles. But that I need to keep track of what I want to say because I usually want to talk about several things. And then I realize that I have gone all over the place and that I need to start a new post with a new title. Which because I go all over the place, ends up being way too long.
So to wrap up this tangent which is one of many many tangents -- there is something funny about this further along -- I finally realized that part of why I’m so miserable is that I am not spending time with My People. Not my fellow Jews but there is an overlap. I was not hanging with people who take comedy really seriously. These are my Peeps, man. This is what I am passionate about along with dogs, and some cats, and tv and books and food and podcasts and such. But comedy is way up there.
My plan is to get back to the clubs, to the open mikes. Slowly. Very slowly. To first start going to them again and to get some good material together. I’m lucky here because I have way too much Stuff. Because I’ve lived a life. 60 plus years of one. And the young guys and gals -- mostly guys -- have very little to talk about so they mostly talk about their dicks. And anal sex. Getting fucked in the ass. I’m not sure what that is about but it’s not real creative. And they don’t yet get the whole bombing but then breaking the tension thing.
So I’m putting some material together and writing some new stuff. You get 3 to 5 minutes at an open mike. But I want to have a solid 5 to 7 minutes. I want to get myself back to Toastmasters which teaches you how to do public speaking. They have several levels and I want to aim for the 5 to 7 one. Then I can pick and choose what I want for my open mike set.
And I haven’t really answered the long title thing but, whatever. This is the best I can do at this time. Now back to the Best Best Friend part of the post!!!
Hmm, So, okay, i am so excited,to have found a fabulous new close close friend. i don't even know what to do with myself. i know this is Sad, as Agent Orange would say. and probably also pathetic. but i don't care. i've always had these kinds of friends. 2 from literally my birth because they are just a few months older than me. their fathers were shrinks who were friends with my shrink father. colleagues. they would move their families to wherever we were living. that sounds really odd as i think about it now. but they also played tennis and squash and we all know that racquet sports create a livelong bond.
the other best best friends have mostly been gay men. and happy married or coupled straight ones. i have a strong personality. Women mostly don’t care for me. And I’m terrified of them. Men don’t find me as annoying. They just filter out the Oversharing and the crazy. well, some do. My dead husband did. So, okay, i'm volatile and bossy, i'm told. which is accurate. my closest homosexual pal told me that i'm An Acquired Taste. which is also true. i was ranting about the latest guy with whom things weren't working out. and he said, well, you're a character and not everyone likes characters. you're not everyone's cuppa tea.at which point I said, enough, I get it. His face fell because he was having such a good time. He was a fucking comic genius and I will never stop missing him intensely.
(another of his masterful quips: I was having a rare good non-Looney Tune time and I told him I was, like many good jews, afraid that the other shoe was going to drop. Well, he knew about my early life, that put a Whole Shitload of Fun in Dysfunctional, so he cocked his wrist hard and said, “honey, it dropped!”)
But, hey, his brilliant Acquired phrase got me on the Oprah show. One of the front row guests who is either really good or really bad. Back then they had a page on O’s website called Be On the Show. There were all kind of categories. One said, “what would you like it to say on your epitaph? “The overall theme was Keeping A Gratitude Journal. Well, we know the drill. I wrote “I was an Acquired Taste.
Okay, there was some major irony there. I was doing that journal thing and it was helpful but I was clinically depressed -- didn’t know I was bipolar yet. It would be decades before I did. And it was such a relief to finally know what was going on when I know. -- I’d been humiliatingly manic for weeks. Then I crashed. In fact I was shopping for a psych ward or outpatient program when I got a call from a producer on the Oprah staff. She loved what I said, thought it was very funny. Which made me very happy. Then the interrogation began. It was not enough to be keeping a gratitude journal. It was necessary for your life to have been transformed by this practice. You had to be a completely different and wonderful person now. And I, of course, lied. I was a huge fan. Or uuuuuge. And I was still leaving the house and a free trip to chicago, which houses the Art Institute, well, it was irresistible.
Now I can’t blame Oprah but I completely stopped Leaving the House soon after I got back from that trip. This is a major tangent and my beloved hairdresser -- and very close friend but not in the Best category -- said that my tangents have tangents. She’s not wrong. Sadly. And this is a major one. So I will finish the Oprah story on another post. It’s pretty pretty (as larry david says on Curb) pret-ty funny. And just freaking weird.
Well, anyway, I’d been visiting and emailing with my favorite reference librarian at my local library. Really enjoying myself. Getting to talk endlessly about books and about animals. She has chickens!
Which I find really endearing. (NOT like the long ass titles). but, as I’ve said above, I am scared of women and they are mostly not too fond of me so I just figured that karen and I would remain Location Friends. Like the ones Cocoa and I have at Rite Aid and Kroger and target and just about every place we visit regularly. We like them and they seem to enjoy us at least a little bit but it never rises above that level. And I’ve become afraid to talk about moving forward.
I’m from boston and I’m loud and emotional and pushy, apparently. I’m an Acquired Taste. And that’s in places where Other People are often ethnic and also warm and exuberant. But, shit, in Oregon? People are laid back. They are reserved. They have enough friends and family and they don’t want to add any more to the list. So cc and I will meet someone who tells us that she has a small dog. And I will get excited, but try to tamp it down, and tell them that cc doesn’t have any little canine-american friends. So would they maybe want to walk our animals together some time.
And, oh shit, the person kind of loses it. And tells me that she is busy busy busy busy busy. So busy. And I realize that once again I have been too pushy. And I get to angry but do my best to keep it to myself. But what I’m thinking is: fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I do not fucking want to marry you!!!! I just want to see if our dogs get along. You can wear headphones and I’ll listen to my podcasts and we don’t even have to fucking talk. We can just watch our pups run around or we can walk them on their leashes around wherever. I don’t need you. I’m not desperate. I just want my beloved aged small service dog (chi/min pin/dachshund) she’s a Chip/pin/dox. I just want my girl to maybe become pals with a dog her size. Because she is afraid of big dogs which is all my fault and a subject for another time.