So comedy on Saturday night went pretty well. I didn’t place but the second- and third-place winners were local folk –the guy from Second City didn’t place, either– and the first-place winner, Quinn Patterson, walked in not knowing a soul and being the only person of *any* color in the place and pwned us all.
I learned that if I’m going to do my stuff about MFM, I have to keep in the bit about the hat. Otherwise it’s too heavy, maybe, unless I want to go that way, which Freud says is not only the way to go but also the straight shot to comedic catharsis (my phrase). It’s certainly something to mull…
After my set (random draw & I went last, which is funny because at the Improv I went first and Mark said after that he’d have put me later), I was outside w/ Karen’s husband Todd and a woman asked, “is all that true?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she replied. “That’s just awful.”
…which is really what you want to hear after having completed some stand-up. Is there a niche in this world for a tragicomedienne?
I am happy that I felt good with my pauses. I usually have a tendency to rush through it. I need to start starting my set with, “Yes, I am Lynn B. Johnson and I’m here to tell you a little bit about myself.” The pauses also slowed my set — I thought it’d be 5 minutes and the tape clocks at over 9.
Quinn did a great job riffing on the elephants in the room but as a conversation, not a rant (and with measured body movements): emulatible.
My expanded Old Navy bit went well, as far as I can recall.
Karen taped me but I haven’t watched it yet, I’m waiting for my comedy rabbi Rob Murphy to give me some notes on it before I see it. Karen has both called and texted the past two days to reassure me of how awesome it was. She literally said she was “in awe.” Cool.