Like I know so much

It sure didn't take long to locate all of the alternative open mic spots in town.  They're fairly well publicized and accessible.  I checked out some of the venues, and, man . . . it's such a different environment than back in the day.

I feel like an old timer, rockin' on the front porch, reminiscing.

But the places I remember were a lot more artsy.  These open mics are like the fighting pits in Conan the Barbarian.  Or Thunderdome.  One man enters, one man leaves.  Brutal.  And that means jokes.  Fast and furious jokes.

I remember one of the best nights I ever had doing stand up.  I walked out, told the room I sucked at jokes right off the bat.  Asked if anyone had anything fucked up happen to them that week.  A guy told me he had ripped off one of his toenails and I had him proceed to tell us about it.  He was drunk and, amazingly, willing to go into excruciating detail.  It was great.  We laughed, we winced, and it didn't feel like an act.  I played mostly off of the comments other people made.  It was just . . . conversation.  Now, I wonder how the hell I was able to pull that off?  It seems like a different person did it.  Not me at all.  I've been very naive to think that I can get back to that place right off the bat.  All of my old arrogance is gone.  (Believe it or not.)

So much for my longing to be Spalding Gray.  I have to do something I haven't done in ages and that I suck at.  I have to write material.  Ugh.

I don't hate jokes, not really.  I love other people's jokes.  Mine feel phony.  But I guess I can't shoot myself down before I've even gotten started.  Maybe I've gotten better with age. 

Hmm.  How uncharacteristically optimistic of me.

I am both hating myself and congratulating myself on putting all of this in my Vox blog.  I really have trapped myself.  My ego is such that I know I have to follow through.  And, honestly, I do miss doing it.  So it's not like I'm forcing myself to do something I hate. 

Yeah, I think I just found the motivation I was looking for.  I do miss it.  There it is.

I've grown lazy and soft and . . . older.  I think a part of me jumped to put this stuff down in a public forum because, deep down, I knew it was the only thing that would get me to do it.  I've become a rather quiet, unassuming guy.  How did that happen?  I blame it on Acting.  It made me all introspective and sensitive over the years. 

I've already found a great lead on corporate sponsorship for the eventual "Ben Martini untitled project."  The problem is that this show doesn't exist yet.  The mechanics of producing it are falling into place too quickly.  I need to back off from the long term, and focus on more immediate concerns.  Baby steps.  Learn to tell jokes again.  Then remember how not to tell them.  Then think about the larger show later.  Much later.

God.  THIS is what I'm doing with my day?  I'm going to go outside and play.