After a long (and ongoing) transitional month, I feel that I can finally lay claim to being a resident of Chicago. I have taken a 3:15am Blue Line train to my apartment, I have logged 8 consecutive nights on an air mattress, and I have awkwardly inserted myself into the conversations of innumerable comedians. In short, I’m living the dream.
It’s a tough gig, starting over. Thank God I have my notebook, or else I would have nothing to pretend to read on a barstool for three hours in a row. Every time I try to talk with a comic, I place myself on the other end of that conversation, politely nodding while I wait to go talk to my actual friends. I miss Philadelphia, where the time in the Helium green room often outshone the time I had onstage. Now that all I have is the stage time, those five minutes feel shorter and the preceding hours feel longer.
I shouldn’t complain. I already have gotten booked on a few showcases, which would never have happened if I were starting fresh. I know that this takes time. And I also know that comedians want to hang out with funny people. In Philly, I was excited to see a new comic who was good, and I can only assume that the guys in Chicago feel similarly.
I also feel, for the first time, like a true introvert. I don’t know when this happened, but sometime between college and now I stopped trying to be the funniest guy in the room. I think stand-up is a release valve for my ego, and I’m glad that I don’t need to commandeer parties anymore to get my fix of attention. On the other hand, my newfound shyness is not helping me make friends in town.
I guess the answer, as always, is to keep being funny and the rest will follow. I love comedy, but it isn’t any fun right now, and probably won’t be for a while. But hey, I don’t have a job or any prospects on the horizon, so comedy is what I got. To arms!
