I’m not funny, not subtle, not “off the cuff,” and not amusing. Pretty much the opposite on all fronts of that list, so this was an interesting experience to take on. When did I last tell you a joke? See.
Standup was on my uncomfortable list (FYI-I’m always looking for suggestions!), and I just needed a shepherd to usher me to a venue and give me the lay of the land. A few weeks ago I met up with David Klein who does comedy 5 or 6 times a week all around California. Thanks for being my guru, David!
People who are the best at their crafts make them seem so effortless, and I’m convinced this could not be more true for comedians. The surprising part is that unlike a Beyonce performance or a Serena win, one would like to assume comedians to be funny without tremendous effort, discipline or strife. Most great comedians seem to be casually coming up with stuff on the fly, musing at the audience and day-to-day happenings that strike their fancies to comment on. My pal Joe Apfelbaum just saw Jerry Seinfeld at a little comedy club in New York a few nights ago. As Jerry told the audience, he’s been doing comedy 40+ years and usually does 8+ hours a day of practice, still making it to hole-in-the-wall venues to try out the material. Still, try out material! Comics I met at my performance practice a set more than a hundred times if not more. This is a tad intimidating. Here I was about to give sometime a whirl with just a few go-arounds in my living room.
Brainwash is a landmark in San Francisco that hosts open mics nearly 7 times a night. It’s a weird place, fittingly, as it’s a laundromat, cafe, and yes, stage with lighting and microphones. Two dudes have been running the place for about 15 years. I went on a Monday night, thinking I wouldn’t be bombarded with the competition. To my slight dismay, about 25 comics, all guys sans one woman, were in line for the clipboard sign-ups at 6:30 pm on the dot. There must have been an audience of 50 or so as well, ranging from the seemingly homeless (though not, that’s just a style in SF I have come to note) to dorky techie. I sat down at a table with David and other comics. Everyone seemed to know one another, and like the drag queen, day labor guys, and S&M scenes I’ve found myself in with these experiences, it’s a close community. This is one of my favorite things about some of these experiences: plopping into a group where you get to be the outsider, the total foreigner.
I soon learned a number of aspects of standup in this group. First, that in the audience of mostly comics, it’s “the worse audience you’ll ever have, the harshest by far,” one comic told me. These guys aren’t here to laugh at YOUR jokes nor are you here to laugh at all. Second, that everyone in the audience was told to be supportive since, in comedy, “You’ll get your fucking face smashed in so many times in front of people it IS not funny.” Third, that as my first time, people were . . . comforting in the way a parent tells a kid the shot will not hurt at all. Someone patted my hand and said I’ll do great. Another guy said that it’ll be over soon, not to worry. Another guy said, “oh, wow. First time? Yeah. Oh.” I wasn’t expecting this. How big of a deal was this, guys? Guys?? As I heard these endless soothing remarks, I thought I might get a bit unnerved. Or worse, that I was missing the boat on something. Do you get blacklisted for getting up on stage again at this place if it’s crickets? Unsure. But what did it matter? I was here and this was it. If anything, if there was ever a time to say something offensive out loud, this was my crowd.
Most guys were crude, off-color, and offensive, commenting about penis sizes, police brutality, dating, and themselves. Most guys did okay, some were very good, and many were nervous or awkward. I knew I was at least in the company of amateurs unlike so many of my other experiences. After a hardy welcome (the organizers make a big fuss over applause for newbies), I was up there. I had a three minute set like the rest of the comics. It surely makes you appreciate comics who do 30 or 60 plus minutes. Here’s more or less how I opened:
“Okay. First, I’m not funny, so you need to get that expectation out of the way. .what is this place? You can fold your socks, eat a sandwich, AND be entertained? Sounds like some bull shit tech elitism once again. Is someone in here with a wearable tracking your DEQ? Daily entertainment quota? Oh yes. That’s your purpose (looking at a guy in the front) huh-saving the world from lack of amusement because a billion people a day aren’t getting enough laughter in their lives, you have the data, I know. . . . ”
And so on. It was over before I knew it, and it wasn’t a big deal. Perhaps a few of my other experiences have quelled any nerves I used to have over on-stage absurdity such as the stripping, spoken word, and nude modeling. This is a great result of the practice of being uncomfortable. You start to be comfortable with pretty much anything. One of the organizers said I should come back on Thursday when 50 or more comics will cycle through, particularly because I’m a woman and there are so few. I’m good though. And I’m not funny, thanks.
Thumbs up on this experience.