Some nights are laced with deeper whispers than others. And when those prehistoric weather patterns sneeze the way out of your soul at 1am on a Thursday I suppose the best thing to do is listen and keep your bones from flying apart into powder. For me, it’s constantly asking what kind of life do I want? And if I can get deeper, that’s where I usually go, which may explain partially why waiting has become an Olympic sport in this household. When I can capture these film or words or even some rant only my dog and my invisible friends can hear, I call it a sacred rupture. Always dig. I don’t know what I’m after but I’m after it, no doubt. It’s a wicked plunge into the unknown and the old stains of the mind circle in and circle out like shadows of abandoned planets and the key is not to get lost in the shadows too long. A mystic I saw years ago said resiliency is the key. The mind will drift and skip and fly into garbage zones but how quickly can you recover? It’s no longer about the mind, but the MoonAche prowling around my chest plate. It’s an uncompromising gambler with its ass glued to the craps table so I wait and push and wait and push and each push hurts a little more, and I imagine your hair like woven anchors and I simply wonder where am I and where are you? It seems the search is coming closer to an end. There have been clues dropped to me about who you are. When the book is finished, I’ll have more to say about prophecy and imagination in love and memory.
Meanwhile, I went to another comedy open mike. Anyone who does them knows it’s a ratio of about 20:1 man-woman so thus the room is filled with men and one woman. It’s a sad imbalance and I find it not useful for my material. The rule is if you can make a room full of comedians who are half paying attention laugh, you have something. I think I disagree with that. I like women. And if there were a third gender, like glorbots, then I would like glorbots. And I’d want to test material in a room that was proportionally representative of the population of men, woman and glorbots. And I don’t want to bend my material to accommodate a room full of men if it compromises the integrity and joy of what I do. And it’s always the rub with rooms full of no audience and male comedians. It’s nothing personal against a room full of men, it’s just having women’s energy in the room is like electrified balm on my material. I guess I’ll have to comb around until I find a room that has that. I do know I have to be back on stage. I have to do it.
I will be in Rochester, NY for two weeks on a contract gig living out of a hotel. I am looking forward to being out of town, finishing my novel and spending time with Gladys, my guitar.
