Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 8

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 8
Logic, Luck and Love

This was my toughest transition. Even harder than Jenn’s Back Porch finish. The end of the show was also the end of everyone’s individual character arcs. The end was bookended by my Mad About You piece. After I started the end, Jenn and Molly had their endings. One hopeful and one successful. Then it was Kevin’s turn. His ending was excellently crafted, as was his entire arc. He spent most of the evening making the audience laugh and really, REALLY knocked them on their ass with his ending. It was very moving and dark and honest. After spending his entire arc saying “What’s wrong with these people,” he concludes with an introspective “What’s wrong with me?” It’s touching and honest and a show-stopper. And I have to follow it.

My part is short. And uplifting. And will hopefully leave the audience hopeful with romance rather than solemn with despair. But I had to tiptoe into the darkness as to not overwhelm the audience with a change in tone. I also had created some extra work for myself on Opening Night by skipping a really important part during the first part of Mad About You. After figuring it out and stewing in my seat about it during the 10 minutes when the other three were delivering their end pieces, I had realized it was a pretty easy fix. This last tiny piece was basically two ideas. “It still takes work after finding someone” and “I don’t believe in most things, but I believe I will try to be the best person for her sake.” I had to fit in “I could pretend fate brought us together post facto if I wanted. Maybe it would help strengthen the bond we have. But it would also devalue all the work we have to do every day to make things work,” which I had forgotten from an earlier part of my piece. As mentioned, this was basically my conclusion, not just a throwaway line.

It thankfully fit very seamlessly into the end of the “It still takes work after finding someone” section. Looking back, it may actually belong there. But I wasn’t about to mess with the show in the middle of this week. So night after night, I got up and tried to let Kevin’s last words linger long enough for the audience to absorb them but not long enough so that they thought the show was over. And as moving as Kevin’s piece is, I don’t think it should be the end. It would certainly take our piece out of the “comedy” section just for the way we left the audience feeling. So I got up and brought the audience around to like this previously arrogant, cold and calculated character. Well, that was the plan. And I think I executed it well each night. As mentioned before, it’s pretty easy for me to get emotional. Honestly, I usually have to stop myself from getting emotional if I don’t want to during parts like this. So I let a little quiver come over my lips and a little glaze over my eyes.

And I delivered what I thought my most moving part was. “I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in Meg Ryan. But I do believe that there is somebody out there who I care about very deeply. And as long as I’m around and able, I’m going to try to be the best person I can be for her sake. Because she deserves it. I may not believe in a lot. But I believe that.”

And I backed away slowly to the rise of “Somebody to Love” and the audience lights coming up, along with the rest of the cast. An obvious indication that it was the end of the show. We got a standing ovation on Opening Night (and partial standing ovations in other performances). It was the greatest feeling of accomplishment and justification for all our efforts that we could have asked for. Until the review came out the following day. All the slaving we did over rewrites and the direction we got and the order we put it in – it all worked. Perfectly. No stand-up act I ever did had done what this did. Thank you so much to my great friends and fellow cast members for inviting me into this production. I only hope as we expand and remount the show that you consider me for the role of Dustin. Until next time…

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 4
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 5
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 6
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 7

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 7

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 7
Logic, Luck and Love

Joe told me that the first piece was the most important part of the show for me to get perfect because it was the show’s thesis. I don’t disagree by any means. But this last section I was about to embark on was the most important for me emotionally. I was chosen to end the show because my character arc was the most dramatic. I really wanted the crowd to feel my emotions. Truthfully, in the moments just before I was to go onstage again, I would think of Jenn (my girlfriend) and my piece ahead of time. I would look around the crowd to see Molly’s parents starting to tear up. I would picture my dad watching from the back of the room and how proud he’d be. Maybe it’s cheating. Or maybe it’s just acting.

OK. I worked my way up to be emotional. I don’t even really remember who was up right before me now but there was a music cue. Thankfully. Because following something as moving as “So I said goodbye… to my vision of the back porch” or as shocking as “Pussy is finger-licking good. Call me.” was wearing on me. Rihanna’s Umbrella. A favorite of mine since the Taubl Family did it on America’s Got Talent a couple years ago. I don’t know how the audience felt at the time, but the show was winding down and I just got that feeling. I opened with “I didn’t come here tonight to shit all over your beliefs… but, well here we go.” And that was the last real joke.

The rest of the piece was emotional with an analytic approach. And that’s exactly how I wanted to present it. So I stood in one place for the longest piece I had in this show and presented it matter-of-factly with emotion. It was an interesting dynamic. I got choked up at the part when I start to talk about Jenn (the girlfriend) and just let it come. I could have shut it out, but I wanted to show emotion. I even started to cry at one show. But it’s what I wanted to do to identify with the crowd.

The main point I wanted to get across is that I have run the numbers, they’re correct, and I was able to use them to figure out how to be happy. This was our story of origin. I talk about how we met because I decided I needed to move to “find a new them.” I go on to say that “I could pretend fate brought us together post facto if I wanted. Maybe it would help strengthen the bond we have. But it would also devalue all the work we have to do every day to make things work.” This was my closing argument statement. And I fucking forgot it on my opening night.

I sat down after being on stage for about 5-7 minutes convinced I had forgotten something. Meg Ryan? No. Compatibility points? No. Holy shit! I forgot the whole closing argument statement. I was thankfully still due to get up one more time after the other three had their closing pieces. I could skip it and go on or try to force it in somehow. Damnit. I needed to get it in. It would have been easier to forget it, but this was too important. So now I had a job. How was I going to find a way to get this part in?

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 4
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 5
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 6

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 6

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 6
Logic, Luck and Love

We’re deep into what a good friend would consider the “middle half” of the show. A lot of us are going through the arching part of our character arc. I just did my “I Hate Brick Street” piece and I’m about to get up to do my “Confused Narcissist” part, together which, I referred to as “The Reason” when writing, as to give myself some focus. My ultimate character arc isn’t necessarily one of chronology like Molly’s is. It’s more in the reveal of how I came to believe what I believe and showing that love and logic can coexist. But this next part is my turn. I talked of my logical approach to love and followed that with a flashback to getting my heart (and brain) crushed out in Ohio not from a particular lover, but from the lack of any at all. And so here comes the self-introspection I went through to get to where I am with the Statistical Probability Model.

But I had a problem. This piece, though introspective and a big turning point for my character, played itself out in a humorous way. But Jenn leaves the stage after her Back Porch story, which mirrors the depressing parts of Eat, Pray, Love (or so I’m guessing, as I don’t know because I’m a real man). She leaves the stage with “So I said goodbye… To him… to the roses… and to my vision… of the back porch,” which in this case represented her chance at long-term happiness. I don’t exactly want to come in with guns blazing and my piece isn’t as high energy as the last one, but I never felt comfortable with my entrance. This was complimented by Jenn actually asking me after our 4^th performance to try to delay my entrance a bit. So she noticed it also. I don’t want to step on the feelings she’s creating either, but once again, the only real training I have as far as the audience is concerned, is knowing how to let them laugh. The depression they were supposed to be feeling was much harder to gauge. So I came in softer and/or later each time. To a completely silent and solemn audience. OK. Time to laugh again, people. Please.

So the deck is stacked against me. That’s fine. I know at least one line in here that will get laughs regardless of context. I try to ham up my introduction on occasion with a goofy smile followed by a furrowed brow on “…after all, I am the only common link in all my failed relationships.” Mixed results. I still can’t find a pattern with the crowd reactions and that is frustrating. I have a series of 6 questions that I ask and answer myself. There’s an order I try to follow but really as long as I end on #6, I can mix it up. Which I believe I did every single time without intent.

One of these questions is “Am I not funny enough?” I originally answered it with this long sentence about Dane Cook and Bill Cosby, but it didn’t really work in the first two shows and just ruined the flow. So I decided to try something on Wednesday evening. Instead I just looked at the audience and said “Please.” It was a risk, as I’m not sure if the audience really considers me funny. But they like me! They really like me! Success! It stays in the show. Molly even compliments me on it after that Wednesday performance.

There’s another question that I ask which is my only definite laugh line of the piece. “Am I not good-looking enough? Maybe not for some skanks.” And then I pause briefly. The laughs usually don’t come until I start to ask the next question when they realize that was it. No further explanation. Just a casual shot at skanks. The line made Molly and Jenn cringe behind me as I found out later, but oh well. It got me some laughs and I was still in my transition from dick to likable dick. This was normally second in the order, but not always, as I mentioned earlier. But on Closing Night, I couldn’t access it in my brain. I did the first one (too picky?) and forgot it. No problem. I could go on to the next one and while I delivered that line, I was trying desperately to access that part of my brain. This was a first for me. I normally wasn’t prepared enough to think ahead while still talking. Steve Martin mentioned in Born Standing Up that he had done his material so many times that his mouth would be in the present and his mind would be in the future. That was happening to me now! This was damn exciting! Except I was coming to #6 and still hadn’t accessed it. That’s the bad kind of exciting. I had done the two that rhymed (money and funny) and was in the middle of #5 (good in bed). After I was done that one, I paused a little bit longer (only a second or two) assuming I’d remember it. But I couldn’t. Still didn’t until the show was over either and the gang reminded me. Kevin said he thought it was unprofessional to change my story like that. Get it?

The last question provoked the line “I’m a confused narcissist in this town…” The funny part was the explanation of what the term meant, but I occasionally got a laugh with just the term alone, which I need to credit to Dave Walker. In the revision of this piece, I probably cut out over half of what I had originally written with no complaints. The one argument I had was about leaving in the confused narcissist line. It turned out to be the only decision that I made in spite of Joe’s advice that panned out. I believe he still wins that overall battle, but I at least had one in the win column. Thanks, Dave. No dramatic last line, no false exit, just a three-minute journey over the hill of my arc. And back to my seat to mentally prepare for the emotional conclusion. Which I was apt to screw up because of the length. Time to study the notes in my head.

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 4
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 5

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 5

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 5
Logic, Luck and Love

Molly would be doing her thing on stage (and off stage for a bit) and I would still be onstage, but upstage (which I learned means “backwards” among silly theater folk). I stared at that blond chick at least for long enough that I felt everyone was looking at Molly. She was pretty dynamic up there and garnered a lot of laughs, which was great. She also painted herself to be a jerk, but not the way I did because she had previously mentioned how she lost a lot of weight from when she was the “funny fat girl, like Natalie from the Facts of Life.” She went on to say it didn’t get her any dates, “but who did Tootie turn to when she needed a shoulder to cry on?” The mere alliteration alone should have earned her an applause break, but that line never hit like we wanted it to. Anyway, it was time for her to tag me in. And she did it in style. My two previous cues were Jenn’s “You simply must believe” and Kevin’s “What the hell is wrong with them?” This time Molly said “Pussy is finger-licking good. Call me.” It got more gasps than laughs, but they were fun gasps. She smacks herself in the head and fades backward as I stare back at the blond and creep forward.

“Blond – probably bleached – definitely bleached – which reeked of equal parts superficiality and insecurity… My favorite.” As I said this, I walked slowly toward the blond I picked out, always on the right side of the audience (stage right, that is – which is a theater term for “left”). I glance at a person on the left side of the audience for every aside I make, as if he/she was in on the joke. And that works well. I believe it starts to endear me to the crowd in a way. Which is what I need as I’ve just referred to the blond girl as a gazelle separated from the herd (And one performance, I actually referred to her as a “nightingale” by accident. Ha. Oops).

And then my mood changes when I have to impersonate a frat guy swooping in to pick up my mark. I try hard to make sure I’m as high energy as possible. I’m doing physical comedy, which I don’t really do much of on stage. I actually think it’s kind of cheap. But it works and I’ll take cheap laughs after spending the first third of my character arc being an analytical, dream-pissing on assface. So I go on to do what I called the “Douchebag Dance” where I grab my foot with one hand and the back of my head with the other and do the actual dance while narrating it with an obvious film of disgust on my voice. I get a decent amount of laughs while doing the actual dance, but my biggest laugh of the evening came every night when I was finished and I angrily yelled “And you know what?! That shit worked!” If this was a stand-up routine and I got a laugh like that, I’d have said “Thank you all! Good night. Drive safely” and walked off the stage. But that would have put the cast in even more of a pickle than Kevin did on Thursday. So I continued.

After the bit, I paused. Silence. Partly for laughter, mostly to change the mood. I put my collar back down, which I had popped talking about the Douchebag Dance. Stephanie (of Speakeasy fame) actually claimed that as a part she loved about the piece after her Opening Night viewing. And it wasn’t like she mentioned 37 things about the show. So I kept it in. And made sure to exaggerate it. But my favorite line (and Amy’s and Joe’s too) was next. After the silence and feeling my loathing for this situation I was in. “It seemed like hours had passed… Probably because – hours had passed.” It may have been my favorite line too. I found the humor was intact as long as I said it calmly the first time and EXACTLY the same the second time. It didn’t get my biggest laugh, but it was certainly passable.

This original piece had about 4 or 5 different places it could end. We (Joe) decided to cut out most of them and stop right after the Wonka World reference. That bit normally goes over pretty well in my stand-up routine but didn’t hit as hard here for whatever reason. I make a reference to having a banana in my hand at the end of that bit as a metaphor for masturbation and that’s how it ends. With my hand grasping an invisible banana/cock. During the last performance, I decided to mimic throwing the banana away as I turned away from the crowd and went back to my seat. I did this mostly because I wasn’t ending as strong as I wanted to and wanted to think of something to fix it. I’m just not used to developing characters and not getting laughs. But it got a little extra laugh anyway. So I was happy. And I was also almost done. So I was happier. After all, the performance is fun. But the applause is better.

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 4

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 4

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 4
Logic, Luck and Love

My sense of panic on Thursday night when Kevin went rogue and forced us to all follow him down the rabbit hole or get left behind when the bus pulled out of Mixed Metaphorland has been well-documented. For the other four performances, this 15 minutes of non-stage time was a welcome break from the exponential tension that built up from the moment we were herded backstage half an hour ago. I would spend most of these 15 minutes scanning the audience for a victim (hot chick with blond hair, hopefulyl bleached and not very timid-looking) in the first two rows for my Brick Street piece.

I had bit parts in Kevin’s two stories, one where I had to sing, and one where I had to shout two movie lines in sequence with Molly and Jenn. In fact, the line I struggled with the most every night was my movie line. In the middle of a bunch of sappy lines from romantic movies such as “You had me at hello” and “You complete me,” I say “I see dead people.” The crowd always laughed, but I tried it several different ways – sarcastic, serious, lovey, eye-rolling and painful. I still don’t know quite how to say that line. But it gets a laugh just for being written into the show anyway, so I probably shouldn’t worry so damn much.

“What the hell is wrong with them?” This was Kevin’s last line and my cue. It’s fun time. This was the part of my quarter of the show that was put in because it was funny. I had written the first part (which was interesting, but more thought-provoking than laugh-provoking) and the last section (which was more moving than funny) first and then realized that I had relatively little funny in the show. And I was selected by Molly, Jenn and Kevin almost entirely for my reputation as a comedian. What the hell was I doing? So I made sure to throw in some funny. And at about the 20-25 minute mark of the show, it was funny time.

But it didn’t start strong. Not like Kevin’s. When we remount the show (which is apparently a theater term that doesn’t mean what it does in equestrian or porn circles), I may look to come out stronger. But this was my chance to bitch about Miami University and how it fucked up my head, especially with respect to dating expectations. The story was originally titled “The Reason,” as it was written to explain why I was so analytical and bitter. I used Brick Street as my backdrop and talked about a real incident that happened over and over for 3 years until I finally found the right mixture of good sense and discontent to motivate me to move back here.

This Brick Street piece was split into two parts, spliced in with Molly’s bar story of how she would try to pick up hot chicks 10 years her younger and get shot down. They were painfully similar. The first part was an explanation of exactly what goes on at Brick Street. I come out with a couple jokes about my age. Sometimes they hit, sometimes they missed. But one always got a laugh and it was probably the last one I threw in there.

Talking about the culture at Brick Street, I would say that I’d never seen so many shorts with words on the ass. I would bend over and point to my ass, as I had already turned around to talk about tramp stamps anyway. It was kinda cheap for this show, but I needed to interject some physical comedy into my portion of the show to get some more energy. I then stood up after pointing to my ass and said “I don’t know what ‘Pink’ is, but… I’m a fan!” And the cheesier I delivered the line, the better laugh it got. I found out later that the laugh was coming at my expense rather than at my delivery (See picture below). The line about this move being good for my ego… and also presumably my id – just wasn’t sticking the landing. But I thought it too clever to take out. I need to take my own advice and not fall in love with certain lines.I realized my problem with getting laughs at this point in the show with material like that is that I’m not really an endearing character to the audience yet. And that’s by design which makes my character conclusion so much more meaningful. But it isn’t helping now. Especially not when I’m talking about girls in such a sleazy manner. For good reason, many of the members in the crowd probably didn’t appreciate this ass hole on stage enough to care about his trials and tribulations trying to score with women. Hell, I walked right in front of Jenn to start the show just after her “you have to believe” moment. I was made the villain. Oh well. Fight through it and get what laughs you can.

Then I got to talking about this culture that I wasn’t a part of, which was a person the audience could relate to. Though I did have a line about girls dancing with their hands “sometimes already on their ankles” that made Molly and Jenn cringe for real and they know me. In retrospect, this makes a lot more sense now. I talk about witnessing a guy go down to the dance floor and mimic him riding her from behind like a racecar seatbelt. I try to channel some of Kevin’s energy for this part. It gets a laugh, but not the one I’d hoped for. Nor does my “five-point harness” comment. Just throw it out, already.

So I come to a part where I have to try to figure out what to do in this town. Amy came up with the idea to pace around the stage like a mad scientist talking to myself. This went over awesome. The crowd is starting to identify with me more. And then I seek out that victim I’ve chosen while sitting in my seat for the last 15 minutes. And I stare at her. And I’ll tell you, it’s fun, but sometimes it doesn’t go well. Sunday night, I had picked the same girl as the first part, which I didn’t always do. She was equally uncomfortable this time too. Oh well. The show must go on. This isn’t about her anyway. I stare at her. I freeze. I slowly back up. Molly comes in hot. “I would drink 6 Miller Lites and approach the prettiest girl in the bar…” Still staring. Why not?

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3

Busting Jerry's Cherry

Busting Jerry’s Cherry

Last night, an old childhood buddy leaped right off the pages of facebook and landed with both feet firmly planted on the stage. Anxious to get this new hobby/career of stand-up comedy started, he picked a random open mic night out of a hat from a Philly-area open mic website and found himself at Lickety Splits on South St in Philly. And before I talk about how well he did, I need to briefly mention how horrible this open mic night was, and thus, how much harder his job was going to be for his first time ever on stage.

I’ve probably been to about 10 different open mic rooms in the past few years since I started doing this myself. Jerry asked if this was one of the worst I’d ever been to. No. It is the worst. And a poorly-run open mic room is a recipe for failure. Here are just some of the factors Jerry was fighting against his first time on stage:

1. The venue: The venue was a vertical bar, 3 seats wide by about 20 deep that could probably hold about 50-60 people, half of whom couldn’t see the stage. But you take venues when you can, so that’s something he'll need to get over.
   
2. The crowd: This was not a crowd that wanted to see stand-up comedy. These were people at a bar. They were talking during people’s sets, watching football and heckling the comics. Thankfully, Jerry brought about 15 of his own people, giving himself a home-field advantage.
   
3. The time: This was supposed to start at 9:30pm, comedians were supposed to check in at 9pm. Instead, it started at 10:15 and Jerry didn’t get to go up until after midnight. People were already drunk and sober again and anyone still there had no interest in comedy except the people Jerry brought with him (at 9:30), 6 of whom I saw walk out because they couldn’t stay - understandably so - especially not even knowing where Jerry was in the lineup.
   
4. The host: This is the only room I've ever been to where there was no sign-up sheet or comedian meeting beforehand. I had barely even seen the guy (Damon) before he got on stage and started telling jokes and introducing his comedian friends. And there was no lineup of when we’d be going on and when I asked him if he even knew we were here about 4 comics into the show, he said “Yeah. I’ll get you and your buddy Joe on.” You mean Jerry? “Yeah, Jerry.” Awesome. Then Moe tried to poke him in the eyes but he blocked it with his hand. And he spent the entire night downstairs doing something more interesting to him than doing his comedy show. When he heard someone leave the stage, he’d run up the stairs to get the mic.
   
5. The click: This show wasn’t about stand-up comedy. It was a big circle jerk with the host and his buddies that perform at the Laugh House, which I'm assuming sucks. He promises to get them stage time in hopes that they’ll do the same. This isn’t about comedy, it’s a venue for them to jerk each other off. After telling us we had 3-5 minutes on stage, I watched 3 different guys do over 15 minutes each. It was unprofessional and irritating. This guy Omar did an equivalent of a comedy burnout workout, where he just kept telling jokes until less and less people were laughing until finally no one was laughing. And then a couple more until no one was paying attention. Then he said “Fuck y’all” and left. This is what I had to follow.

OK, I’ll talk about how shitty this place was in a later post because I could go on for hours (apparently). Despite all the bullshit and watching half of the crowd that he brought to the show leave, Jerry delivered. After having heard his material the day before, I was convinced that Jerry the Writer’s stuff was good enough on its own that Jerry the Performer just had to transpose it from paper to vibrations in the air successfully and it would be fine. I had a couple tips for him about the order of his material and memorization tricks, but I thought his material was certainly ready on its own. But he rushed through it like he was trying to win a contest in rehearsal. Or probably more like he was trying to get it over with. I had confidence in every part of his preparation with the one concern that he may go too fast.

Jerry finally got on the stage after several unfunny people who were competing against a crowd that was taught to not pay attention gradually over the last hour by comedians like Omar and Damon. But thankfully he had brought his own crowd. And laughter begets more laughter. He started with one of my favorite jokes of his and it was the first time in a while anyone had really laughed. The first hurdle was cleared. But he had another problem. A heckler. Not in the "You suck" sense that everyone thinks of as heckling him directly, but when he would say things like “And now women have these tattoos -” she would cut him off with “I’ll show you my tattoo.” “I suck at picking up women -” “I’ll teach ya, baby.” Jerry does not need a heckler the first time up there. It definitely messed with the timing of the tattoo joke, but thankfully didn’t derail him from his material.

It’s always been part of my stand-up comedy values to never carry a set list or cheat sheet in stage with me, though some people do that. Jerry also wanted to do it without a cheat sheet and after seeing him do battle with a heckler, I was impressed that he never got lost. His material could have been slower still, but with all these other factors working against him, it was good to see that he remembered all his material and delivered it in a manner that had people laughing. If nothing else, it was good to get the first show under his belt. You’d think that would make the next show less nerve-racking, but it doesn’t. If I had to grade him based on all factors, I’d say it was a performance worthy of an A-. He still needs to slow down the delivery, but that will come with time. Lickety Splits gets an F though, or at least Damon does. I look forward to seeing Jerry soon enough in a real club like Helium so we can see him at a place that will give him a fighting chance at getting more laughs. And he’ll notice the difference. But he’s taken a very successful step in the direction to being a stand-up comedian. Money? We won't talk about that yet.

Check out Jerry's stand-up debut on facebook.

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 3

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 3
Logic, Luck and Love

Jenn came to the stage with a slight contrast of style – seductive and stationary – and a complete contrast of relationship theory – lovey and hopeful. There was a part in her piece when she made reference to me in fact, and I didn’t even realize it for the first couple performances. Truth be told, I was happy to be done and sit down for a few minutes at that point to shake out all the poo nickels that had built up over 2 months of prep and half an hour backstage. Molly explained to us that a “poo nickel” was a little piece of poo that came out when she got nervous, which flattened out to about the size of a nickel. I know. Just what I wanted to think about before I go on stage. And as nervous as I was and having to perform first, I was bound to have a poo nickel one of these nights. Maybe even a poo quarter. Or a Sacajawea poo.

Jenn talked about how she has been waiting for that perfect kiss. “You’ve probably been waiting too.” I thought she was addressing the audience. Turns out she has been turning over her shoulder looking at me each time. And by the 4^th show, I figured it out and thought I would react to it. Subtle enough to not derail the story, but something. Just a shoulder shrug. Whatever. By the last show though, I had a plan. I timed it so that I’d be taking a drink at the time. I didn’t do a spit take or anything stupid, but the addition of either having water in my mouth or having to stop an action mid-stream with my eyebrows, shoulders and hands forming a question mark was enough to get a laugh where there was not one before. Huh. Acting. Who’da thought?

And she ended. “You’ve got to believe…” That was my cue. Second part of the “Statistical Probability Model.” It started with me walking very dismissively and directly in front of Jenn to drive home the contrast of our beliefs in geographical fashion on the stage. And to make me seem more of an ass. At least for now. This part was easier – only about two minutes long, but again without many laughs. I managed to squeeze out a couple here and there, but nothing consistently. There was a part of the piece where I had to drag out a sentence and build it up for a big payoff. Pretty important part of the thesis of the show. I believe that I did it well because it felt good and because Amy said it was good and she’s not the type to throw around back-patting compliments (which is good for a director) – but there were no laughs. And there aren’t supposed to be, but you can’t really gauge thought from a crowd without hooking them all up to electrodes and that likely would have distracted from the enjoyment of the show.

Then I hit my last line. I was talking about love being incomparable from person to person “coincidentally… much like pain.” That got my biggest laugh of the show thus far and I didn’t think it would. Again, when I wrote it about 3 years ago, I probably thought it was funny. But I had forgotten. Anyway, it was nice to go out with a bang. But wait! A false exit! Kevin suggested it and I had never done it before. I actually start to leave the stage and come back Columbo-style with “Oh, one more thing…” The following line got a decent laugh too, but I felt like I was stepping on my own material. Like I should just get out while they’re laughing. It felt like having a great flirty conversation with a girl, getting her phone number, and leaving. Then going back in, telling her you’re still having trouble getting over your ex, who she reminds you of, apologizing, apologizing for apologizing, and leaving again with several feet in your mouth. I didn’t want to go back to the bar. But the script said so. And it was a decent line. Maybe in the rewrite, we can figure out something for that part. Oh well. But now is the Molly and Kevin show. And more Jenn. And Kevin again. And Molly again. And Kevin again. I have bit parts during a couple of Kevin’s stories, but it will be another 15-20 minutes before I would be needed on stage again. Time to retreat and regroup.

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1
• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 2

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 2
Logic, Luck and Love

“For those of you who believe in romance [pause] and would like to continue to be fooled [pause], you may want to leave now.” I said this from just in front of my chair to appear a little casual before I was to take center stage. I completely expected a laugh at the second pause, but got none. I did not expect a laugh after the entire sentence, but got one.

See, we’ve been writing, workshopping, rewriting and rehearsing these pieces so much that I’ve forgotten what was funny when I originally wrote it. That is the disadvantage of being this prepared. I just had to trust Past Dustin’s writing and hope that Present Dustin’s delivery of now numbed material with the help of rehearsed stage directions would do the writing justice. We had spent the last month and a half telling our stories to two equally numbed people with clipboards. It was refreshing to get a laugh, even though it didn’t come when I thought it would. But I’ve seen that happen on occasion before in my stand-up world so I wasn’t so thrown I wet myself or anything.

As I said before, this was the thesis of the show so I did not want to forget my lines or botch the delivery. It probably made it a little more stiff, but that also played to the content. There is a concept in art called “formalism,” which is really the only thing I remember from 5 years of film school. It is defined as “the marriage of form and content.” So if you’re shooting a violent scene, choppy camera action and quick cuts are valuable, whereas you may want to handle a love scene with soft lighting and a steady tri-pod (no pun intended). So my calculated movements probably played to the mathematics inherent in the piece anyway.

This was in direct contrast, however, to my urge to start the show with energy as I’ve learned from my stand-up days. If you get a crowd on your side early, you get a lot more leeway with longer set-ups and they’ll give you the benefit of the doubt with a later joke or two as they already like YOU. But here, it was my job to set up the thesis, almost in lecture format. It wasn’t without laughter, but it was uncomfortable as I’m used to trying to make laughter happen every 15 seconds. Because of this, I probably rushed it a lot more than I should have. By the last couple performances, I started to play with the concept of silence in certain parts. A fellow comedian once told me to use silence almost like a business contract signing with the audience, where the first one to talk loses. Just wait for the laughs and demand them. It’s worked before but it was risky here.

There is a part in my opening speech where I talk about being compatible with a relationship partner. “There are areas of high importance. Religion… willingness to have children… willingness to perform certain sexual acts.” I would pick out an attractive girl in the first two rows – one the rest of the crowd could see – and stare at her during “perform certain sexual acts,” while changing my voice from lecture to cheesy lounge singer and summoning up a horribly pathetic eyebrow-flickering smirk on my face. I found that the longer I waited after the end of that phrase, the more laughs I would get when I snapped back out of it. “Then there are areas of less importance. Preferred hair color… room temperature… the willingness to perform… other… sexual acts.” This was even longer and cheesier and I would go back to the same girl. It went over at least serviceably well each time, but I think I had honed that craft by my last performance, though the girl I picked out could not have been more uncomfortable. That sucked, but this wasn’t necessarily about her anyway. The crowd just needs to see me hitting on the same girl twice (three times as I will do it almost an hour later). Sorry, blond girl in the front row from Sunday’s show in case you’re reading this. The same thing happened to the girl Molly had to hit on in one of the performances. Oh well. We’re both taken anyway.

My first piece is broken up into two parts, separated by Jenn’s “Perfect Kiss” piece, which is supposed to serve as a sharp contrast to my “Statistical Probability Model” piece. The first part has a lot of numbers to remember, but like I said, I had done it to death and knew the numbers well enough to hit them all perfectly in all 5 shows. Where I struggled was with the delivery of such dated material. I had 5 shows to play with and got better and also never sucked, but I strived for the best reaction I could get each time. I specifically had trouble perfecting my line about deal-breakers “no smokers… no diseases… no fatties… no republicans, etc.” I never got my footing on the negative space there. Also, I know – I really do – that this is more analytical and satirical than it is funny, but I can’t help but try to do everything I can to use my facial expressions to make the material as funny as it can be. So I had to go back to my seat frustrated every time and just trust in the concept. Which, as I’ve already mentioned more than once, worked to perfection.

(Ed Note: Dustin has only gotten through his first story of the show. He has 7. So this Inside the Head version may have up to 10 parts. Sorry.)

• Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1

Inside the Head of a Performer III - Part 1

Inside the Head of a Performer III – Part 1
Logic, Luck and Love

I’ve been recently writing about what goes on inside my head during specific stand-up and storytelling performances. I’ve only done this twice so far, though I’ve probably been on stage about 60-75 times in my short(ish) career(ish). Well, this most recent one was the most unique performance of those 75 shows. It was a delicious and intimidating performance smoothie, blending together equal parts stand-up, storytelling and theater – one of which I’d never tasted before.

It all started (for me) when Molly asked if I was interested in doing a show in the Fringe Festival with her, Jenn Moore and Kevin Boggs. I had just worked with Molly in Sucker for Love 2: Electric Boogaloo and graciously accepted doing whatever this thing was, having never heard of the Fringe Festival with no clue of the massiveness that it was. Molly and Jenn had gotten this concept to make a show based around the relationship experiences of both men and women, gay and straight and wanted four people, one of each gender and sexual orientation. After casting Kevin in a no-brainer decision, they needed one last piece for the puzzle – a straight guy. And there were none in the DC Theater scene. “Sure, I’ll be your straight guy.” And so I was cast.

We worked tirelessly on this project from February through opening night in mid-July. If this article were a cheesy 80s movie, this paragraph would be the cheesy montage scene with the necessary cheesy quasi-inspirational one-hit-wonder music playing in our earphones. Me sitting alone writing. Thinking. Idea! Writing again. Jenn, Molly and I on the roof laughing. Me crumpling up paper and throwing it dramatically across the room. The cat runs away from it. I pick her up and nuzzle her nose. More writing. All four of us around a table with salt and pepper shakers. Jenn moves them around a coaster as if they were people. Kevin then pretends they are having sex with each other and makes kissy noises. I roll my eyes. More writing. Rewriting. Editing. By the time June rolled around, I was thankful to go to work to get a break from rewriting all this crap. And then there starts the montage where we introduce Joe and Amy as directors and start pacing around the basement and get serious. This should have been the part of the movie where you got up to get an ice cream sandwich.

Cut to opening night. I’ve never been more prepared for anything in my life. No football game, no stand-up routine, no homecoming dance gig, nothing. Not even the SATs. Birth. Maybe my own birth and that’s about it. Still, I was more nervous than I had been for anything. In stand-up and storytelling, you’re hanging out with the audience before the show, flirting with the girls and drinking with your friends. Here, I was told we needed to be backstage. I never really had a backstage. I mean there was a green room at the Funny Bone, but we weren’t confined there like we were here. We kept peeking through the curtain to see people we knew. Molly and I both had a little audience participation, so we looked out to find our victims. All four of us took turns begin peppy with energy, nervous with anticipation, excited with motivational words and secluded in last-minute rehearsal. I can remember all three of them at different times telling me how great I was, along with each other. It was inspiring and comforting. Well done, fellow cast members. Amy came back every 5 minutes. “15 minutes.” “10 minutes.” “5 minutes.” This was what made me the most nervous. That and this was my first sober performance possibly ever.

See, I have a very well-documented three-beer rule before all my shows. But for this, I didn’t want to even tempt losing my place. I had other people counting on me. Besides, we were on stage for an entire hour. Though I wasn’t talking for the entire hour, I was on the stage. I developed a new set of rules which I am happy to have followed to the letter for all 5 shows. On the day of the show, I would have no alcohol, soda or cheese at all. No alcohol for reasons of not only inebriation, but also voice. No carbonation for reasons of burping. And no cheese because I have recently not been able to process it very well. Actually, I still process it, but into short bursts of methane gas from my ass, which is inconvenient when seated for a whole hour. These three rules definitely helped me survive 5 nights of being on stage for a whole hour without needing to pee, burp or fart.

“Places, everybody.” Shit. This was it. I had the voice of Joe echoing in my head about how important this first piece was since it was the thesis of the entire show. Our individual stories were written and the cards just happened to fall so that I opened the show. I went over in my head the one part in the first piece where I stumbled the most in warm-ups one last time. OK, at least 11 last times. And then Queen spoke. “Find me – somebody to loooove, find me…” And we were walking out to the front of the stage, the men from stage left and the ladies from stage right. We sat down during the music on this particular night, which wasn’t always the case. The crowd was packed. Every chair was full. The music stopped. This was my cue.