Jokes and Notes

Tonight I went to an open mic at a club on the South side of Chicago called Jokes and Notes. I didn't tell many jokes and I got alotta' notes. It was not my best comedy night ever.

I'm about a year and half in to stand up and I am miles better than I was when I started. Oh but I have so much to learn yet.

I don't know if what I did was bomb but I started off rocky, the kind of start akin to taking a step and in mid-step you know you are going to sprain your ankle but you are powerless to stop the step and BAM! You are down on the sidewalk, your purse spilling all over the sidewalk, your tampons flying all over the place. I tried right away to relate with the nearly all black audience and talk about Prince and his Controversy album. Silence. Apparently Prince does not quite hold the court he used to in the 1980's. Prince might be the only black person talking about Prince anymore. Then I launched into material not on what I am now convinced would've have been the perfect set-list and I watched my jokes splat like bugs on a windshield.

I was unaware that as a newcomer to J & N I only got 3 minutes. If I'd have known I got so short a set I would've crammed more jokes in there. Actually, I suspect that's bullshit. It was my night to eat a bit of it.  I thought I got 5 minutes and when the red light above the DJ went on, I thought I was getting pulled early because I was stinking up the club. I froze like a deer in the headlights. So then I stood there trying to assess whether or not I bombed and the DJ felt compelled to play a hip-hop song I am unfamiliar with but I think the chorus goes something like, "Bitch, get out the way! Bitch, get out the way!..." Do you know it?

As I went off the stage, one woman was actually hiding her face as I walked by and not because she was a burn victim. It was a very long, Dickensian walk to the gallows. Fuck.

Then the owner came over and told me I got the music because I didn't respect the light. It was after that I found out  from another comic what my time was supposed to be. A comedy of errors without, you know, the comedy. But everyone had a good laugh at me as I took the 10 hour, 25 mile walk back to my seat.

The current host of Jokes and Notes on Wednesday is a comic named Marlon Mitchell, a very cute, personable, self-effacing comic who has a very comfortable, approachable style and an arsenal of stories about women he tried to date and the characters in his neighborhood. A very likable emcee, occasionally and necessarily going a bit far with his humor. The perfect host in his element. He did a lot of time at the top and in between comics and killed all evening.  The host of a good room is very seductive and you want to be a part of their charisma, be familiar too. But familiarity is crafted, earned, the luck of the draw on the list and often a fluke. I made the mistake of acting familiar instead of being myself and following my instinct about my set-list and it didn't work. Marlon was funny and the audience loved him and I wanted the same thing. But I didn't pop out of the audience's vagina so love was not a given but a privilege  I haven't earned there yet.

On the ride home, my fellow comic and friend Bridgett and I talked about the room at Jokes and Notes, which she's done a lot. We talked about what the audience at Jokes and Notes likes versus the audience at Jay Harris' showcase,  Jerry's Joke Jam,  likes and how we are trying to find our audiences for our voices as comics. I'm still finding my voice.

I'm learning that some comics will always do their comedy and never alter their work for their audience and others will try to  read the audience and tailor their set to the crowd. I don't know what's best but I suspect like most things, it's in the middle.

The material has to be strong no matter what, but delivery, timing and tone are all a part of a killer set.

I was riding high this morning. I got up early, got a clip on YouTube and e-mailed someone about a gig. I wrote in or on my blog, however you get the pieces there, and got so many compliments on my clip from friends on Facebook. I sensed a storm cloud brewing on the bus ride home but I went up at the open mic anyway and learned many valuable lessons.

Yay, pain.

The real test was walking out of the club with the stink of a bad set on me and still be polite and be a trooper. And I had to do this sober and smoke-free. Ugh. I wanted a smoke so badly for 3 seconds.

I was very grateful that some other comics invited me to their rooms and gave their cards as I left tonight. And earlier today, all those friends on Facebook that complimented me and gave me all those, "You Go Girls"!after viewing my clip,  I am so grateful for them because they reinforced what I know- that I am a good comic. I am grateful to be able to make people laugh. I am grateful to be a good comic who had a bad night who will over-think it but is lucky to be able to get to over-think about and do what she loves.