Whole New Me

It's been a rough five years. I mean five full years of happy marriage, and all of that. It's still going on. That part is working great.

It's also been a lot of surgeries, and hopefully no more for at least another five years. I don't know if that's going to be the case for long, but for now, no surgeries. Just think, only five years ago, Robert Downey Jr. was a white guy. How the world does spin.

You may be able to see in this picture, I have a nasty new issue. The problem is, this picture is over ten years old. The other problem is, no doctors picked up on it during that entire time. In 1990, I had a tonsillectomy, and the doctor also pulled a nice fist sized tumor from my pharynx. And no, that's not the part of your ass where poop escapes. Although, those who have seen my act wondered.....

I ended up on some iodine treatments, and some other things to ensure that the throat muscles wouldn't atrophy. If anyone ever offers you that, make sure they know if you're allergic to things like... iodine. I'm not but I've heard stories. I was also given prednisone for the first time. That is a steroid, and if given properly and monitored, should cause no issues except a bit of bloat and maybe a little bit of a moon face. It worked for Zappa, so I accepted.

Flash forward to 2001. I was off of all medications. I mean ALL of them. I used to drink "sleepytime" tea to fall asleep because the boy toy at the time was a horrendous snorer, and I wasn't able to attempt to sleep if he fell first. The tea helped. Sometimes I had Melatonin. It's not hippy, it's real, and it works. There were years, and I mean from when I was 12 to 29, when I was on anti-depressants. Some were great, some were vile. And, tegretal, a drug used for epilepsy was amongst them. I didn't like any of them and weaned off of them slowly...until I got married for the second time to a guy who had absolutely no interest in being married to me. After a few months of him, I was back on the meds. (Yeah, I worked three jobs to support us. I still don't know if he ever got a job.)

The meds did something weird. I gained weight. I mean not just a few pounds like the warning state, but a full two stone. (About 23 lbs for us Yanks.) The marriage was over, I was bicycling every day, and I still didn't lose any more than 15 of that. But, I was human sized. Not for me, but for the rest of the world. That's when I weaned off of the meds again...and voila, was back to normal tiny W.O.P. from Bean town doing stuff on stage, and feeling fine. Things worked out okay.

Then I started getting dislocations. I was put back on steroids. I hated them. Why? Okay so my shoulder stayed in place and the swelling went down- but I gained again. It made me depressed. I got put on antidepressants. Starting to see a pattern? The doctors didn't. I had a sinus infection right before I was getting surgery for a deviated septum- which I guess means nose job in Hollywood-speak.  I gained another 40 lbs. Seriously. In less than two months. People thought I was pregnant since I was newly married. Not a chance... kids are something I am allergic to, thanks.

Flash forward to 2006. I went to an endocrinologist to find out why I was reacting this way. Why was it that a medical journal said, "may gain a small amount of weight" meant, "may change name to Orca" with me. He said, "Stop eating so much". I became afraid of food. I hardly ate as it was- one meal a day, and a snack or a small breakfast. That was it. What could I cut out? I knew. The doctor.

I dropped about 38 lbs, and started to feel human again. Next thing I know..I'm gaining 3-5 lbs a week. Again, "oh are you going to be a mommy?" No, I'm just a mother, thanks. I'm at the gym three to four days a week, and sweating like Meatloaf in a New Jersey stadium show. Back to the picture. You may notice this is a shot of my neck. It's a big neck. I swam for high school, and oh yeah, rode horses. I have a big neck and shoulders. But, it's bigger than that now.

What the smarty pants doctor didn't realize was- I was growing a big old Thyroid. The blood tests didn't agree with my symptoms at that time, so he became a smart ass, and I became sicker. All this time, had he JUST paid attention to my history, or even looked at my fingernails, the way the weight was presenting itself, some female issues, or oh yeah, the STEROIDS and antidepressants I was on- well he may have figured I had the onset of Hashimoto's Thyroidosis. In other words, my body was fighting me against me. Yeah. Just like a video game.

Two years later, my blood tests are going kablooey. I have a rather large lumpy throat. I fortunately do not have to have surgery, but there is a chance that the nodes growing may have to cut out. (Go look that up on Austin medical and tell me it isn't the ickiest operation you've ever seen.) I'm now on synthroid.

SO what does that all have to do with comedy? I start a new show this year. It's called Short Bus Comics, and it turns out- I need one. Again. Pretty cool. More later.

cbj

People Don't Get It

They just haven't the ability to discern good jazz from bad jazz. I've discovered that the most popular music form in this household is unappreciated, and certainly under-appreciated, but most people who consider themselves Jazz Fans.

Both my husband and I are musicians. I listen to music that's more Bartok and Neil Young- and yes that combination is very workable. He is more apt to listen to Bill Evans and Oscar Peterson, both for influences and for sheer discovery of the proverbial soul of this music format. Just as some people can tolerate Kate Bush yet disdain Tori Amos, I am likely to put forth a Patti Smith tune the same day I write a four part choir piece. The hubby is far more inclined to push Caravan to places that are virtually impossible for any other human to master. It's who we are as musicians, and where we are in our skill, and comprehension.

Golf. I say the phrase, "He's Tiger Woods" whenever I'm asked how the most skilled player of the game manages to astound the masses. My husband understands the nuances of the game, can sit for hours discussing the traps, the eagles, and of course, the lack of beer involved. I am better suited to the stands in Fenway, screaming the disdain to the OTHER team, and drooling as Varitek and Ramirez round bases. That is the sport that seems sportsmanlike to me- Men sweat, teams bond, and the crowd is as in tune with the hot dog vendor as they are with the outfielder. It's the same with Jazz.

My husband has an ability to concentrate. I am what is kindly referred to as distracted, at best, and diagnosed improperly as Attention Deplete. Frankly, I enjoy things that have black and what outcomes, but spend most of my day drifting from writing, to music, to singing, to emails, to becoming entranced by the latest exploits of one, Anthony Bourdain. My goal in life is to not miss out on anything, and that leads me to many different venues, many different creative ventures, and far more greetings and meetings with the public.

The sidekick carrying the male version of our wedding ring can decide to do something and nothing in any way, shape, form, or design can move him from that notion. If he says, "I am going to lose some weight", he is deployed on a seven month mission to become the thinnest him there could be. For any artist he cares to hear, he doesn't become a fan, he becomes a historian. You can ask him any question regarding movies, and he can certainly out trivia any game show. His passion for the cinema is only second to his passion for chocolate- for which he can name sixteen varieties, the locations of the best shops in several continents, and will tell you the nuances from African beans to south American ones. When he states knowledge of jazz, he does so with authority, experience, and minute detail.

My taste in music is multicultural, multi-class, and very rarely excludes any tone of any sort. I've listened to shinai with the same aplomb as a Ringo Starr solo. The one tone that bothers me, surprisingly so, as I've studied the instrument as a child, is that of Violin. The shrill of the wires doesn't sit in my ear, or nestle in my head- instead it takes my ear drum and sizzles it like bacon, wearing it away like the ocean eats sandcastles. And yet, I am also a jazz fanatic.

My knowledge of the music was limited at best when I met Ravi Coltrane- who eerily appears as a clone of his late, great, father. He practiced his soprano sax in my living room at Calarts, and I had the balls to ask him "What kind of clarinet is that?" As I am a comedian, it fortunately fell like a joke in a great club. But, from that point on, my mission was to understand, learn, and devour jazz as some would decide to become parents. After several months, I understood that Dave Koz, and Kenny G are certainly not comparable to Stan Getz, nor Kurt Elling. In fact, I was so enthralled by the singers of this breed that I quickly bought any and all I could find- except Diana Krall or Billie Holliday, both of whom I have grown a bit weary.

It's been twenty years since I snapped on a 1- 3 measure. It's been just as long since I've listened to anything remotely titled "smooth jazz". And, thus comes the topic of this very blog. This is the music that the hoi poloi aren't able to comprehend. This is why a majority of jazz radio is sorely mistaken, and several of the programmers and disc jockeys should be sent to Gitmo. Annie Ross, Eva Cassidy, Rosemary Clooney, Etta- both Jones and James, Julie London, Mildred Bailey, and my favorite, Rachel Gould are in heavy rotation in the iPod and car, as I try to live every note Peggy Lee or Bessie Smith ever uttered. Julie London and Clooney share my range, but Annie Ross has my favorite playful way of making notes sound easy. The youngest member of my collection is carried by Renee Olstead, whose appearances on a comedy sitcom seem to belittle her enormous skill and talent as a jazz songstress.

Billie Holliday changed people's perception of jazz. She responded to notes by giving each personality. In this, she is worthy of history. She does however, grate on me, as a songwriter, for not actually hearing the notes she is supposed to sing, as she changes the reason for a song. Diana Krall once dated my husband, back in the days she was a Berklee student. She makes jazz very approachable, and is highly commended for her ability to take a tune, and make it available to the general population- especially those which were lost to history. However, she hasn't got the vocal range to carry off some of the better lost songs, so she kind of misses the mark with me. I think if she pulled out some Ada Jones, I'd be more impressed. But, I have heard a few dozen Diana Kralls-a-likes, and they really aren't changing the medium. Even Dana Owens, aka Queen Latifah, recalls Lush Life with the charisma and charm that demands attention. I'd take ten Dana Owens albums to one Krall, any day.

Rachel Gould isn't a household name, and doesn't get much rotation on any jazz radio. That's abominable. She has a voice that seems to tell the world, "This song was written JUST for me, and you will never hear it again without thinking of me." She seems to say this, but doesn't. She should. She's right. Eva Cassidy, who died far too young, as if there IS a right age to die, brings a bluesy feel to all her work, and has become what Janis Joplin aspired to be. When Eva carries a tune, you feel as if you want to be in her house, having coffee, with a cat on your lap, and doing nothing other than hearing that voice.

Don't forget, I like some pop musicians. I think Joss Stone, despite the vocalese, has mastered her voice that brings timelessness to songs. Alicia Keys, one of my favorite songwriters, pulls a punch as quickly as she seduces. Amy Winehouse, drugs be damned, works her shimmy out of nothingness. But, jazz radio has determined these artists are under the same umbrella as Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, and aforementioned, Coltrane. That's like saying my husband and I play the same music.

He has jazz critics come to the shows, leave jaw dropped, and writing reviews which would put tears in anyone's eyes for the joy of it. I have a habit of making people believe there are seven members to my band, that I am seeped in Earth Wind and Fire, and oh yeah, should be on a Motown label. Culturally, he's from Buffalo, and that's one step closer to Oscar Peterson-ville. I'm from Boston, and it seems I've learned much of my craft from the days spent with a guitar in a subway station. Yet, we're both considered jazz musicians.

The one thing that does frustrate him is my ability to write a song in as long as it takes him to think up a melody. I usually have all parts, done. All of what I write, I've written a million times for every artist I ever admired. He writes for himself, and it's always as if he spent years on something that takes him a few hours. He's Tiger Woods, and I'm the other guys. His sounds is timeless in ways that leave people heart-pounding and lost for words. My music is more pedestrian, and people often wonder what 1970's band I was in. I write music I wish I could get my favorite singers to sing- and he writes what only he can play.

And that is the power of jazz. It removes all pretense and turns to the heart for its purpose. It isn't some pretty little tone you hear whilst dining in an upscale restaurant, which spins around giving you a better view of the city. It isn't the comprehensive tonic to the fifth to the tonic that leaves the listener satisfied. It can be gritty, or interpreted. It can be followed the way a teen ager follows a cast member of a popular movie. It's the music which decides where we have left our broken heart, our secrets and our long lost relatives. It's Tiger Woods.

Thoreau-ly Convinced

I ran across a quote I hadn't read in some time- "The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer." I have to agree with this statement, which stands as true today as it did in the 1860's, when written by the author Henry David Thoreau, (pronounced "thorough" for those who are unacquainted with the New England manner of correctly speaking French names).

Mr. T wasn't exactly the world's sweetest guy. There are great tales from Emerson, (Ralph Waldo, not "Lake and Palmer"), who called Henry just about every nasty name he could muster and some he hadn't even thought existed. Melville, Stevenson, and Hawthorne each thought of him as a well-spoken, albeit oft spoken curmudgeon whose love for his fellow man was greatly overshadowed for his love of solitude. My guess is that had he lived in this day, he would certainly never have a cell phone, would disdain the idea of "myspace" and "facebook", and probably would blog incessantly between his strolls through gardens and deserts, if not Manhattan proper.

I'm convinced I'm much like HDT in myriad ways. He never did speak a word without first thinking of its purpose. For him, the spoken thoughts were reflections of the mind, and using words carefully meant being responsible for their outcome. In this point we're united. I'm generally and willfully disgusted by those whose idle banter and chatter seem to carry on long after a point was placed squarely. It is unlikely you'll find me in small talk on a telephone, for any reason. If I don't have the punchline I won't ramble on searching until it appears on the verbal horizon. Succinct or nothing is my preference. Perhaps this is why some people think I'm not involved in a conversation, when the fact is, I'm more involved in listening.

When I was a teenaged girl, searching for meaning and purpose as one does at that age, I was introduced by a burly teacher to the intricacies of the words in Walden. I visited the Lyceum fairly often in Concord, Massachusetts, which sits in the spot near Henry's original wooden box of a home. The building stood barely giving the appearance of a residence, more resembling a large shed. I marveled at the simplicity of his life, and took many walks around the pond which shared the name of his greatest known essay. I pictured him grunting at the sales clerk in town as he got his weekly supplies, as his idea of greetings consisted of a nod, if any acknowledgment at all. He didn't speak with those whom he did not have reason to speak.

And yet, he was certainly full of thoughts, conversations, and deep insights. His essays carry readers into the concept of the Enlightenment Age, his salon chats with his peers, and the intimacy of the life of a hermit. The quotes he is well known for sit in a Wiki entry, http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Henry_David_Thoreau but the greatest quotes are those that the readers discover when they find themselves mirrored in his thoughts. Ever timeless, he transcends far more than the written word, tapping into the human experience in nearly every paragraph.

I end this note with the concept of self-reliance. As he wrote a number of times, the efforts of man support mankind when man himself is solely responsible for his actions, words, deeds, and intent. He cannot demand others to supply him with worth, as it is his own to hold. Esteem, held humble, yet firm, is a stronger weapon against a venomous self-denial and negative introspection. As he walked alone, he didn't dwell on the life he left unlived, or the dreams he left unfulfilled; instead he carried the notion that his life was worth every moment, and worth every minute he spent spying the smallest of insects, or grandest of trees. The words of others, who certainly were not as keenly aware of their surroundings, didn't penetrate his shield of self worth, and self reliance. As townsfolk often bantered back about the strange man who lived in the shack- they still wondered how his great mind worked to create such wonderment. It was the idea that their thoughts weren't as important as the ones he held, and his own belief system which he lived truly to the last which caused him to be a greater man. He stood on solid mind as well as solid ground.

The lessons of the past must be apparent in the present for them to have any importance at all. Thoreau was a rabbi in the truest sense in that he taught millions to believe as he did, that the world is better when appreciated, and people are greater when understood. The quote at the beginning of this passage is certainly a statement to the idea that everyone and everything has a reason to be noted, and heard.  Those who ask questions to give their own answers are missing the reason to care for a fellow man. If he wants to hear his own thunder, he should  stay alone. If he wants to hear others, then listen intentionally. It will create a better respect. And, the one heard will be forever grateful for the chance.

cj

 

 

The Portable Thoreau (Penguin Classics) by Henry David Thoreau Read more about this book...

Returning Home- The Improv Pt 3

On Friday, I'm recovered from a weird event in Las Vegas. The A/C went out in my rat room. Two of my chinchillas didn't make it, and one of my rats wasn't looking good. He finally died in the morning. Mike was a wreck, and the guy helping him wasn't much better. I was the one who was cool about it, because I get that the A/C was not anyone's fault, and the animals just didn't make it. When I finally got home, I found out my favorite girl survived, so I'm relieved, but that's another story, and the sadness I feel is huge, but there's no blame to be had anywhere, so life is life. The hubby was a wreck and expected me to be, but I've been through this for years, so I guess I'm just trained more in how to deal with it.

Anyways... that done. It's Friday and I meet my friend Gulden for lunch at a Greek restaurant in Larchmont off of Beverly. I needed the boost. She's awesome and beautiful, had just met with her pal Marc whom I know casually from another board. We're having comedy chat and we're talking about life, and it's good. I got the boost I needed, and she got some she needed. I headed out to the Improv.

I didn't know Richard Villa before the show. I had to go early because I need the space. I had to get my bearings again. I haven't played that stage since 1998. Seriously. It's been that long. I was last at the Santa Monica Improv and it's not there anymore. Eddie the bartender is still there. He didn't remember me and that's okay. I didn't really drink at all so I usually sat in the restaurant, and wrote there back then. I did recognize the waiter who was there, and he saw me and recognized me and forgot my name but quoted a line I use so I know we knew each other and that was good. But Eddie and I had a great talk.

We talked about the changes in comedy in the last five years. Clubs have stopped working the way they did when I was in LA. It used to be a packed room, and lots of people. Now it's hit or miss, and very few nights of steady headliners. In fact, there are shows which are "bringers" now. That is NEVER something you'd see at the Improv in the 90's. No one was ever told, you can play here if you bring 5 guests. NOW it's expected. We talked about comedians we both knew, and where they are now. It's either road, ships, or college. Even Charles Fleischer, my absolute favorite comedy hero... hands down the smartest guy on stage you've ever seen.... is no longer closing on Fridays and Saturdays. Not at all. The people who have taken over booking decided he's too "old and smart". Are you kidding me????

I used to go to the Improv, then to the Comedy Store JUST to catch both of Charles Fleischer's sets. Not stalker like, just because he was someone to learn comedy from. He knew how to turn a single idea into a forty minute set unlike anyone else I've ever seen in my life. If anything, he was more than brilliant..he was inimitable. And, he's a genius. Absolutely, one hundred percent, timeless, genius. How could anyone NOT close a show with Charles Fleischer? This makes no sense to me. Lenny Clarke and Steve Sweeney are Boston, and Charles Fleischer and Paul Mooney are Los Angeles. Yet, where are they? Not here.

In fact, the comics here are just young, new, and the acts are not timeless. The material is no different than the frat boy stuff at an open mike kegger. It's the material of a generation of kids who don't write, and don't have anything to say. It's the material of "shock jock" and quick fame via the internet. If you say the right, shocking thing, then someone out there will post it online, and make it a clip on YouTube-mentality. That's the saddest part of stand-up. It's not about the writing, it's about the viral ability. It's changed from writers becoming story tellers-- which it's been since Ovid and Euripides, to Woody Guthrie to Will Geer, to Phyllis Diller and Moms Mabely, to well... Charles Fleischer, and now.... it's just guys drinking beer on stage and making wise cracks about butt and vagina cracks. Not exactly life changing stuff. Not exactly timeless. Not exactly material that will last through out their lives.

So I meet with Richard who tells me my ten minutes is now cut to 5 because Chris Rock is going to do a guest spot. Okay. I can deal with that. I'm going to go up late, okay. Then he changes that to first. I can do that. No big deal. I take time and read the audience, and figure out my set. I do material I wrote back in 1997. I use that because in 1997 it worked. When you write material that's timeless, it doesn't matter what year you do it... it can translate. I did it in front of Martin Moreno's room in Long Beach back then...when I was token white chick and it was just a riot... I had a 20 minute set and I had five cholos just up on their feet laughing beer out of their noses. So I figured.. I'd do some of that set because five rather large cholos walked in and reminded me of those guys. I was right to pick that set.

Richard had a packed house. The room was so full, and happy. He had some low energy to start, and wasn't really feeling it. But I figured, I'd turn it up for him. I was feeling my best, and hadn't really been part of that room at all, so they had no idea. He didn't know anything about me and barely introduced me at all. So-- I gave him and them... a taste of Gimp-energy. The room lit up, and I was on. People were fired up and suddenly energy was all over the place. I had laughs where I wanted them.

With only five minutes I cut a LOT of the set down. At 4:57, I said goodnight, and handed the mike back to Richard. I never ONCE need the light because I am one of those few people who does exactly the time I'm told I have. ALL of my sets are designed to be in 30 second intervals. I know where it ends and starts. You could see Richard's face-- he was floored- expecting a favor for a friend, and not expecting the comedian. Well, that changed. Afterwards, he told me that he had other rooms and asked when I was going to be in town again. So I guess that means I "passed" the audition..and better than that. I AM BACK. And what's better-- I feel better about being on stage than I have in years.

Last week, I was thinking I was yesterday's news, and this week-- at the Improv, in front of a full house-- I rocked the room. It was a blast. I had fun, the room had fun, and I was asked back. It doesn't get better on a Friday night. What's more.. younger comics came up after and talked to me about starting their careers...just like the old days. Richard gave me a few videos for the Benefit. Chris Rock never did show for the second set. Not even a drop in. I figured he was still doing the hour at the laugh factory.

Saturday, I drove home... triumphant. Relaxed. ready to hit it on Tuesday and Wednesday. And yet... still irked by the unprofessionalism on Thursday. At least now, I know for sure, I'm ready to hit it in Boston. Finally. Now to work on the material!!

Returning Home- The OC Files- Pt 2

Here it is... I leave Motel 5.342 and I head out to Anaheim to find my second hotel, which is directly across from Disney..at $41 a night, and well worth it. Seriously. The hotel has an ATM, a gift shop, and a great view of the Harbor Blvd. And, it's not going to be until 3pm that I can get into my room. It's 11. I'm so beat. I didn't sleep, so I use their computers, at $17 for 10 minutes to check email, because in my haste, my machine is sitting up on the counter at the house in Vegas. Great. S'okay. IHOP is next door so I have myself some breakfast to kill an hour, and work on some material. I have a show to do. And, I call Mike cos I do that when he needs me to do that. And he always needs that.

I get into the room, it's great.. got a patio.. it's quiet..opposite of motel 5. And.. head off to the club. I LIKE getting there early because I like sitting alone and writing. That's when I get a feel for the room, the space, and just tune into what I like to call, "the time", and just zone out. Usually I grab something to eat on the way, and I had a great little Asian chow at a place called Lotus on Golden West. Very nice. I was set to write.

My plan is to make Tuesdays my story night.. I will set up the new material on Tuesdays, tell the stories and video tape. On the disc, I view where the natural laughs were, and where I can plug in tag lines. Then I can play more, and really do it up. Well I wrote about 15 index cards worth of tags off of the story, so it's got quite a bit of material. Some are fun, some are risque, some are just goofy. And I mean Goofy. The story is about getting arrested at Disneyland. And, since I did the bit in Orange County EVERY ONE seemed to have a Disney story this week. I don't know how that works but it does. If you come in ready to talk about shoes, everyone talks about shoes. If you want to talk about cumquats, everyone else is, too. This week, Disney.

So I did the Disney, got a few chuckles where I didn't think I would, and that was that. Then I watched everyone else, and got happily surprised by some of the newbies, and had a great time listening to some very talented up and comers. At least here, there are people WRITING material. Unfortunately, as I learned at the Comedy Store, the clubs in LA aren't ready for them yet. I wish that wasn't the case. The road is friendly to those who write.

But I head back to the hotel crashed, and went over to Leila's the next morning. On the way over, I got a call from a new comedienne who was sweet, and asked if I would mind some "tag lines" for my material. She's unfamiliar with how I write, and has only known me from a couple of the new material nights-- never saw me on TV or anything. She had no idea I'd already had about 75 or so tags written already, but I said, "sure" and figured why not see what she'd had. I never had anyone offer to write anything for me before. I keep forgetting that I've been out of the public eye in LA for awhile so the people I used to know aren't really there.. and those who are new don't know me as a regular in clubs. So I guess it's kind of weird... it's just another new face for them. And...they really don't know me from radio..and that's the weirdest part.. going from being an afternoon fixture to not having anyone recognize the voice.... that's really funny... but it's all good. That was ten years ago. I understand.

So I am at Leilas and I finally get to meet her son, Jack who is all of 3 months, but looks about 5 months, and he's 100% smiles. Heidi's there, and doing great. It's fun... we are having gal chat, and I really needed that too. There was a lot of down time.. destressing. They were chuckling about the material offer because they know how prolific I am. That was pretty funny. But, still... we had a nice time together. It's been so long that since I had any time without any stress, or demands put on me. I was just enjoying time alone with friends, and no one was expecting me to take care of them, or the things around them. I didn't have my computer or the benefit going on, and it was just quiet time with friends. But I did have a show to do..so I knew it wouldn't last very long.

Again I head out early enough to write. BUT, I didn't get that time. I didn't get to detox and turn off the head and stop thinking. I had to deal with a very attention starved person who wanted to be the center stage for whomever was in the room. Unfortunately I am that person for whomever that attention starved person is no matter where I am, many times. This time it happened to be another disabled fellow. I was enjoying a nice chat with a young lady who was telling me about her career, and she also was prepping so I figured it was going to be a nice short chat, and we'd be doing our own thing. BUT, this kid was sweet-- and just clinging. I couldn't breathe, and it bugged me. He was nice. But just smothering. You know how it is when you're at a birthday party for a four year old and there's one kid who always clings to your leg, and won't leave? that's what this guy is like. Nice, but you've had enough an hour ago. Finally someone else he knew showed up, and he moved on.

But by then, his time was drained. I did a different set, and was on fire a bit. I had a lot of laughs and it was fun. The set was good. I was starting to feel like my old self again. It was as if I was back at the Laugh Factory and not in Huntington Beach. I played a bit with the audience, and did a little bit of newer stuff. The crowd was a little out there. Some folks were doing great with them, but they were drinking hard, and only there for ONE comic so it was hard to win them. I did fine. Two or three other people did just fine, too, because they didn't try to play against them. When they played with them..they loved them...when they fought them... it was death. I play WITH them, so it was fun. But it as death for others and that was so hard... I had that exact reaction last week, and boy that was not fun.... in a bar in Whittier.

So Thursday, I am supposed to play in a bar in OC. I have a fun day hanging with Leila again, and I catch up on a little email, but mostly it's about writing. And winding down. I have no idea what this club is like. I get there early...and... I end up in a corner of the bar, which is nearly empty. Not a good sign. (Bar and being empty..so two not good signs.) Then, I'm sipping ginger ale, and this guy sits next to me and proceeds to not stop talking about being a plumber to the stars. For an hour. Nonstop. Doesn't come up for air to breathe or even so much as to even nod that there is any thing else going on in the world other than HIS conversation about plumbing. I'm going to poke my eye out with scissors at any minute. Finally someone else shows up and he decides to leave. I have no time to even write a set list. Fine. Okay. whatever.

The guy running the show seems nice enough. But he does the thing I hate. He has full loud conversations during everyone's set, and the room seats 20 people so you can hear everything he's talking about. It's not cool, and not pro, and very annoying. THEN, there's a guy complaining about what everyone else is talking about. Another not pro thing to do. You don't bitch about new comics. They're there to learn, and they need to find their way. You talk to THEM not about them. Instead he whines and complains. Loudly. And it's easy to hear him from any corner too. So that's two non-pro things that are happening. THEN the guy running the room tells me he's having me and this other gal as headliners because we have the experience. ..okay I can deal. Doesn't tell people how long we have. Fine.

The guy up goes up for 30 minutes. No lie. A thirty minute set ina bar with 20 people in it. WOW. Are you kidding? He's really good, but that's really long, and he's lost the audience for everyone because ... he just made himself the headliner, and he's the third guy up. Okay.... he doesn't know because he's new, and the guy running it is new, and is talking over his set, and doesn't pay attention. Okay that's fine. I'm just sitting there, and enjoying his good parts and hoping he realizes that he's got some good material but he's made it a full 30 minute show. Okay. He doesn't, I found out later. If he could learn to keep time, he'll be fine. He is going to be a good comic and he's got some great stuff going.

There's the guy who is bitching about everyone else. He's in a bar. He does the show I've seen him do in the other club, and he's got some good material. It doesn't fly in a bar because he's not pandering to the drinking crowd. He's a writer, and he writes real material. He's not a bar comic. That's not good here. It's okay but not here. And, he isn't doing great. It's good for stage practice, and he's learning. No one is listening except me and another comic. The guy running the show is talking to someone else. So he talk about giving tickets out to another show he's doing.

I go up to do my set, and he literally takes people OUT OF THE ROOM, and has people talk to him OUT OF THE BAR, in the parking lot.... both he and the guy who run the show. Neither of them are there for my set, so I'm there with like six people. There are two people at the bar, a guy in the booth, and a couple of others... and I had written some jokes SPECIFICALLY for the people who were in the front section. Those people are gone now because the non-pro folks have decided this would be the time to chat out side. Are you kidding me???? So the guy who was complaining had made the point that he didn't like "blow" jokes. I made sure that when they walked back in that my material was NOTHING but those jokes. That's what the whole set was about... I was just all about that material... because that is something you just don't do in that setting to another comic on stage EVER. E-V-E-R. never. Just not cool. And then the kicker was, the guy running the room had the balls to tell me he wants me back in his rooms for the next 9 dates??? Are you kidding me??? First you have me up when you're talking then you have me up when you're walking out of the room with my audience and you want me back?? I know, let's have the show in the parking lot and let the cars just keep circling while I do the act... at least then you'll know my vicinity. That's probably NOT going to happen. Thanks.
part 3 coming up-- my return to the Improv.

Cathe B

Returning to Los Angeles- Part 1- Comedy Store

Odelaley Mijas! Okay, I"m back from LA and it's Mexican Independence weekend, so all the gringos in town are hiding. Me inclusive. But, the week was intense. I was having such a hard night last Sunday that I didn't sleep and it just took me over. I drove to LA a day early, and hit the Comedy Store-- my old home, staying at a Motel 6-- more like a 5.23-- in Hollyweird. It was a very enlightening, and cathartic visit. First, it started with a trip to the ATM which will make for a material like no other. (Parking cost 10 bucks to get 20 for the admission to the comedy store lot for 10... that's just a start).

When I worked the Store in the late 80's...Original Room, Belly Room, and Main Room were packed 7 nights a week, with Mitzi upstairs, Argus laying at her feet, and the lobby bar, the patio bar, and the two green rooms hopping with people. The back lot had a guy who would stand there and make sure that audience folks didn't sneak back and steal cars. The place had dozens of headliners every night. Monday night was notoriously wild because the Original room was open mikers, but the main room was, after 10pm, when Robert Townshend and Paul Mooney would bring in their friends, so it got really wild and you'd see things like Dice boo'd off stage so that Tommy Davison, Eddie Griffin, and Mooney could go up longer. That was a wild time. And people loved it. The place was always packed. This Monday? I got there at about 9:10, thinking I'd just miss maybe a half hour. I missed about an hour. It was one room, and the Belly Room had a smaller show going on with a more X-rated type of show, I guess.

I opted for the Original Room, because the Main Room was closed. Closed. Not even opened for business. What??? Are you kidding me? The Comedy Store in Hollywood on Monday?? It's only been nine years since I've been there. Nine years. I thought about that a minute when I said it to the guy... and I looked for my picture on the wall. It used to be on the side by the women's room in the back bar area. It was moved. It's over by the belly room side now. It's there. I saw it. They didn't take it down. My signature never made the wall... that always bummed me out. BUT I did see my friend's-- Roz Browne. Right there in back when I walked out side to answer a call..there she was! I was pretty stoked about that. Big blonde hair and bangs there, no signature..and wow No Main Room. What a change.

So I go in... there's no audience. Okay there's 12 people. I counted. TWELVE people in the COMEDY STORE. The biggest Comedy Club in the country-- the one that every comedian in American aspires to go to--- and it's echoing. I was just heart broken. Here was the place I called home for so many years. Bruce Mikelson, and Steve Moore-- Steven Kravitz, and Bruce Baum, Wild Willy, Buster Brown, Karen Haber, Lois Bromfeld, Greenstein, Steve Pearl, Piper and Tupper, (yes I dated one of them, who hasn't), Robert Townshend, Paul Mooney, Pryor, Sam, and... then... 12 people in the audience, and no one I recognized at all. Not a soul knew me and I didn't know them. My picture on the wall, and no one had an idea who I was, so I asked to sit up front, where I could just be, and enjoy...and learn. I wanted to see what has changed so much.

I did. I certainly did. I saw at least 15 people. Everyone had three minutes or so. That was it, because it was pot-luck night. Pot luck night is when comics who have passed the open mic auditions are invited back to work on stage time, to build on material until they're considered funny enough to be 'regulars'. I've been there. I'm one of those who have the battle scars. I did about a month of this myself here, in the Belly Room, though, not in the Main Room. In the Belly Room, 12 people sound like a hundred and you feel the crowd, and it's a good way to meet other comics, and you learn so much. In a room that large, that seats 100, you feel lost, and hear the quiet, and distractions can be huge- like one time during the night-- an ambulance went by the large window behind the stage, so a comic got to talk about that for a moment, and his time disappeared. When you're in the Belly Room, you could hear Mitzi in her office laughing and she'd come in to hear you if the laughs were huge, and say, "kid, you don't need this room anymore, go downstairs and tell Argus you're going up tonight" and they'd give you 10 minutes. THAT was a compliment. Or, "I want your avails by Friday or you don't work next week." Then you'd get your $25 a set and you knew you were a regular there.

But there were these young guys..and it was that...all guys... just doing one liners, and talking. No one really stood out except two people. The former waitress who worked with Dice, and whose name slipped my mind was VERY good. She has material, and is just great with audiences. She's also too funny to be doing Pot luck nights. She was looking at a table and because she was the head waitress for the Store, at one point, she kept saying "I'm getting nervous you're not being served properly." It made her personality more endearing, so she was likable right away. The laughs from her words were genuine and not forced. Another one who stood out was a young lad with glasses, who just didn't have much to say, but did have a lot of personality, and used his line of "I just got hired to play a retard" very well.

Then came my theme for the week, and the real reason for the comedy store visit. At about 11 or so, the guy who parked near my car started his set. Chris Rock is working on new material for an upcoming special. Now, when he first started doing stand up, I'm not ashamed to say, I HATED his work. He bored me to tears. Oh, geez, a black guy talking about how stupid whitey is, yawn. Right up there with a white guy hating things and a white girl doing valley talk. BORING. But, he's in his late 30's now, and he's not a kid anymore. He's got kids, he's married and he's probably a lot wiser than he was 20 years ago when he was first bouncing around on the stage in front of me, making me wish I drank.

And, he is. Much smarter. He is wearing a silk suit and now has been in Hollywood long enough to know that things aren't going to be handed to him. When I first met him, he was full of himself, and telling me how great he was, and that he was going to prove to Hollywood that he was the king of the funny, and Cosby had it wrong, and blah blah blah. Well. He's been burned a few times now, and the battle scars are starting to show. He's wiser, and he's worn. He's not as bound to be full of bravado, and instead, he's removed himself from the LA life to remain on the East Coast. Smart man. Chris grew up. And, he grew up enough to start his set with, "Here I am in a Comedy Store, where I started, because this is what you HAVE to do, if you want to do comedy the right way, you just got to do this."

I needed to hear that. He didn't know that I needed to hear that. I did need to hear that. I was having the shit-gig-from-hell nightmares all night, so much so I couldn't sleep and had to drive to LA a day early to go to the Comedy Store to find out what the hell happened to comedy, that I couldn't catch my stride. I needed to hear someone who has been in the river the entire time, swimming upstream just as hard as I was, even though he has the success behind him. He was struggling with this too. He was sitting in front of now, 8 people, because before he got on stage, the bus to Sherman Oaks must have left. Chris was going from club to club, asking for stage time, just like I was doing, and working on sets, just like I was doing, and putting on shows in whatever atmosphere he could, just getting his groove back. Just like me, he was working it out. I needed to hear that. And, I liked him better for it.

The show was great. All 8 of us, laughed hard, and all of us, were enjoying his work. He had a few premises that he was still ironing out. I didn't agree with some of them, but that's okay, he was firmly committed to them, and that's cool. They weren't the black/white things... they were the husband/wife things. He's grown up. Being in front let me be his token female/white audience member. That was okay too. He tried all that material on me, it seemed. I was okay with that. I let it play, and it was fun. Afterwards, we didn't chat, or anything. I figured, I'd see him around. And sure enough he's everywhere I was all week.

More on that later..but Yah. Coming home to the Store. What a world of changes. The people are just not the same. The club itself. ... I stayed to see what was next. Again... one or two comics afterwards... then this weird show from the Bellyroom came downstairs and amounted to ... well.. I got to see Brody Stevens for the first time in years. He looked great. I haven't seen him since Wired For Laughs days... and I think Emery Emery days.. .and the couple sitting behind me made the night kind of like living back here in Vegas..so it got a bit over the top for me. I was done, too tired. Hadn't slept since Friday, so I was going back to the Hotel 5.465, and hang it up for the night. Gave Mike a thumbs up via Verizon, and just called it a night. Maybe the comedy store is done. Who knows. But I guess I'm not... round two coming up

Cathe B

Doing Time in Los Angeles/Orange County

Well Gang. Set your calendar and watches. If you want to see LIVE comedy, I'd recommend you get your butts up and out of your couches and head over to Huntington Beach each Tuesday during the month of September because I'll be playing there at Martini Blues, 8pm, for a measley $10. Seriously cheap show! 21 and over, only, tho. 714-840-2129. Visit my iJoke.tv page for more information. iJOke.tv/dielaughingbenefit


And, I'll be playing the IMPROV in Hollywood hosted by Martin Moreno. That's a hell of a great host, and a KICK ass show. I know because about 12 years ago, Martin started in my rooms back when he was a mere latino fledgling. NOW he's a headliner, with his own night out. You'll love him, and I know this...because he has a great following! People like Pablo Francisco, George Lopez, and even Gabriel Iglesias love this guy and work with him on Comedy Central. I'll post the dates on iJoke.tv under events.

This is the start of my return to the stage after a three year absence. It's weird being back, and it's great. I'm getting my foot back on that stair master, and riding the horse bareback. The material is bigger, better, honest...and what's funny? (besides the material?), is watching a few hundred of my peers and realizing, WOW, I have so much more to say. SO so SO much more. It feels like there is a void now. Just empty space being filled with nothing. Now I know why I wasn't getting anywhere...I had something to say. People on television are lacking substance in so many ways. There are some who are making a career saying, "Yeah, you know, like, you know, right?" as part of their entire gimmick. It's nutty.

If Mark L. saw me audition with THAT at the Improv in 1986, I'd have been told never to return. In fact, when he sat there, at 2:13, after my big audition, on morning, he said, "gee, where's your material.?" I said, "Gee, where's my audience?" I was disgusted because at the time, my act was 50% based on reaction from people..I needed to talk to audience members to get a reaction...and there wasn't a soul...sole..not one. Used to go out, pick people, and talk to them about their genetic make up. There weren't any people to talk to...so I had nothing to say. I had ten minutes to say nothing. He said, "don't use anything 'blue'" so I couldn't use my other material...because it was somewhat turquoise. Not exactly cobalt. Not exactly royal. Just somewhat hued. He gave me another shot.

He saw me in NYC, and said, "I want you to come to California and play our Santa Monica Improv! I've never seen a woman do that in a room!" This from the man who says, "I never forget an act." He had forgotten that not two weeks before, he had given me the 2:am set from hell. I reminded him, "Oh I just played...uhm..yes, I'll be there, thank you." He hadn't remembered me and my friend was punching me in the arm to shut up. Honesty is a very bad trait at times. My pal said, "Shut up moron, he doesn't forget people and he had no idea who you were. Shut the hell up you twit." So I'm in Santa Monica two weeks later, where I'm back at Second City, and Budd is there this time, and he says, "Young lady, that was very nice. You should come back here again." Then he looked at Mark who had shaken his head no, "Maybe not yet." Make up your freaking mind, Mark!!! "Why didn't you do what you did in New York?" "I had different people in the audience this time, and there weren't any bus drivers, bagel makers, and an authentic Armenian with long blonde curls. This time, there was a Mexican show girl, a plumber and a dancing chihuahua. It played differently." "Oh. I see. Well, come back again in a few months." So this time, it wasn't a complete dismissal, just a shrug of -- nevermind.

Fortunately, years later, it's changed, and I've since had many a set at Improv's around the country. I don't recall if Mark had been in any of the audiences. Frankly, it doesn't matter. My career seemed to do well regardless. I've now got some time in the future at the Hollywood Improv. I'm pretty glad, as my friends who are there are warm, great, terrific comedians and the audience is just as wonderful. It will be a great show, just for that alone.

I hope that some of you will be there. That will make it perfect.

cathe b