What if the entire financial industry collapse could be attributed to a sizable number of people graduating college, having no idea what to do with themselves, and picking investment banking and finance as a suitable career choice. These future ne'er do wells are ambitious, bright, high achievers. They do well at whatever they focus on. But they focus on finance only because it will pay well and because it's an established pillar of our society.
So they get there, to Wall Street or close, and they make a ton of money. But there's not much behind the drive anymore. They reach the pinnacle, look around, and sigh. If you are the best at what you do but the job doesn't interest you all that much, how much of yourself is really invested in the role? What other serious motives exist beyond wealth and status at that point? If you get to the top of the hill without really caring about the hill will you care about its future once you've arrived? Or will you pillage, stockpile, amass all you can to help make up for the fact that you really didn't give a shit about the venture to begin with?
A little dark? Maybe. But what's to keep people invested in a career, an endeavor, a relationship, if they don't really care about the content, only the outcome. To get to a place. I have these things. I earned this piece of the pie. But then what? You have the biggest house, the best title. But if it's not tied to something you genuinely respect and love, how can that pursuit possibly sustain you emotionally and intellectually over time?
I think some people somewhere, whether in the financial world or elsewhere, can relate to what I'm saying. If you have no passion or purpose to drive you beyond amassing material gain, then at some point you may as well sell out to the highest bidder and see if Johnny Law can figure it all out.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
George Carlin
This is a nice, concise obit of Carlin. I already feel a kinship as I've had my first humiliating subway ride home after an awful set.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/28/magazine/28carlin-t.html?ref=magazine
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/28/magazine/28carlin-t.html?ref=magazine
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Water landing
I think most people avoid listening to the water related safety instructions at the start of a flight for obvious reasons. No one thinks we're going to land on water and all get out and survive. So why learn the directions? Until, of course, it happens...
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/18/nyregion/18plane.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&hp
Early indications, as described by the safety agency, were that the cockpit and cabin crews got through an emergency “by the book,” but it was an event that exists almost entirely in books alone; big planes seldom come down in water in a controlled way.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/18/nyregion/18plane.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&hp
Early indications, as described by the safety agency, were that the cockpit and cabin crews got through an emergency “by the book,” but it was an event that exists almost entirely in books alone; big planes seldom come down in water in a controlled way.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Article
Parts of this article had me cracking up. It also includes the new joke I'll be telling when people say "Know any jokes?" No one really says that actually.
http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/15/guy-walks-into-a-bar/
http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/15/guy-walks-into-a-bar/
Friday, January 16, 2009
New Yorkers
As news cameras honed in on the US Air plane floating in the Hudson this afternoon, fellow gym goers stared at the coverage 12 inches from their face on their treadmill TVs. I thought that was a telling image of hardy New Yorkers--potential tragedy just down the street not deterring them from their workout. Obviously, if people had been injured or killed it would be a different story. But as it turned out, it was an interesting spectacle to watch as we continued our daily lives.
I thought maybe people would turn the channel so they could focus on their workout or briefly withdraw from the outside world. But if there's one thing New Yorkers are comfortable with, it's heaping doses of reality right in front of their face. At some point during 700 subway rides and walks down 6th Avenue you become inured to other people's tribulations. Not insensitive to them or immune to them, but comfortable with frequently viewing the hardships that are part of reality for many people.
I'm guilty of not letting those hardships spur me to action. And I'm not trying to glamorize that particular bit of selfishness. But it did lift my spirits to see people almost comically bouncing along with the threat of mortality just inches away.
I thought maybe people would turn the channel so they could focus on their workout or briefly withdraw from the outside world. But if there's one thing New Yorkers are comfortable with, it's heaping doses of reality right in front of their face. At some point during 700 subway rides and walks down 6th Avenue you become inured to other people's tribulations. Not insensitive to them or immune to them, but comfortable with frequently viewing the hardships that are part of reality for many people.
I'm guilty of not letting those hardships spur me to action. And I'm not trying to glamorize that particular bit of selfishness. But it did lift my spirits to see people almost comically bouncing along with the threat of mortality just inches away.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Odd Shoe Dream
I've decided to use this blog to categorize weird dreams because honestly, what just happened there? Last night I dreamed that I was on some sort of field trip to the mall in a severely cramped oversized pickup truck. When we got there I was barefoot. I managed to find some sort of child's shoe that I crammed my right foot into and then stumbled upon a shoe store.
Now how the shoe store salesperson didn't suspect I might steal a shoe, what with my one bare foot and one foot jammed into a child's shoe, I'll never understand. But he didn't. I found a really nice $179 sneaker and put it on my left foot and hightailed it out of there, one regular fitting expensive shoe and one severely cramped child's shoe. Why not steal a cheaper shoe? Or even just buy a pair?
I made it back to some kind of warehouse area where we waited for the giant pickup truck to return. My feet were doing okay at this point and I thought I was in the clear. Boy was I wrong. Someone in my group answered their cell phone and said "Yeah, he's here." Freaking snitch!
Security swarmed in and I nonchalantly explained "Oh my god, I was just looking for you guys! I somehow left Foot Locker with this shoe and wanted to return it! No, I didn't steal it. Who would steal just one shoe?"
They didn't buy it. I was in a deep, deep panic. Why do dreams have to be so incredibly intense? (I kind of know the answer but it's more fun to speculate.) It honestly made me think back to when I shoplifted as a teenager and I felt during the dream that I was being made to pay for the couple times I escaped when I actually did shoplift. I was quite disappointed in myself.
Hmm so maybe I have guilt over shoplifting a Miami Hurricanes ballcap when I was 16. You'd think I'd be over that by now.
Anyway, I made it back to the weird truck and had to climb through a tiny portal to get to the backseat where my legs had absolutely no room and people were kind of disgusted with me. Kind of like you are right now after suffering through the details of my dream. The point of the story is make sure you have shoes on before you go to the mall.
Now how the shoe store salesperson didn't suspect I might steal a shoe, what with my one bare foot and one foot jammed into a child's shoe, I'll never understand. But he didn't. I found a really nice $179 sneaker and put it on my left foot and hightailed it out of there, one regular fitting expensive shoe and one severely cramped child's shoe. Why not steal a cheaper shoe? Or even just buy a pair?
I made it back to some kind of warehouse area where we waited for the giant pickup truck to return. My feet were doing okay at this point and I thought I was in the clear. Boy was I wrong. Someone in my group answered their cell phone and said "Yeah, he's here." Freaking snitch!
Security swarmed in and I nonchalantly explained "Oh my god, I was just looking for you guys! I somehow left Foot Locker with this shoe and wanted to return it! No, I didn't steal it. Who would steal just one shoe?"
They didn't buy it. I was in a deep, deep panic. Why do dreams have to be so incredibly intense? (I kind of know the answer but it's more fun to speculate.) It honestly made me think back to when I shoplifted as a teenager and I felt during the dream that I was being made to pay for the couple times I escaped when I actually did shoplift. I was quite disappointed in myself.
Hmm so maybe I have guilt over shoplifting a Miami Hurricanes ballcap when I was 16. You'd think I'd be over that by now.
Anyway, I made it back to the weird truck and had to climb through a tiny portal to get to the backseat where my legs had absolutely no room and people were kind of disgusted with me. Kind of like you are right now after suffering through the details of my dream. The point of the story is make sure you have shoes on before you go to the mall.
Trash beer
It's high time The Trash Beer Incident was explained to the masses. This will accomplish two aims--settling The Trash Beer Incident once and for all and mentioning Kristin Helms' name in the blog. It's doubtful she'd read any further without seeing her name in ink.
One fateful summer Atlanta day I returned home to find a case and a half of beer in front of my townhouse. Right near where they pick up the trash. The untampered with beer wasn't in the trash. It was just on the drainage grate near the trash.
Now to me, what you got right there is free beer. That ain't something that comes along every day and you should act accordingly.
Now to my companions, elitist members of the finer sex Kristin and Kat Davis, what you got there is Trash Beer. To them, it was as if the beer was itself garbage, rather than an unspoiled path to intoxication.
We went back and forth for quite some time on the matter. But you know what? In the end, they ended up carting themselves to Green's Liqour and forking over their radio station and cable company wages the next time they needed booze. Me? A simple matter of cooling off the curbside cocktails.
I mean honestly, is some robber dude going to buy a syringe that penetrates glass and poison a 12 pack of beer? Who has time for that? Wouldn't the robber just drink the beer? Of course he would. We beat the robber to the punch.
Who was right? Well, I was. Girls are funny.
One fateful summer Atlanta day I returned home to find a case and a half of beer in front of my townhouse. Right near where they pick up the trash. The untampered with beer wasn't in the trash. It was just on the drainage grate near the trash.
Now to me, what you got right there is free beer. That ain't something that comes along every day and you should act accordingly.
Now to my companions, elitist members of the finer sex Kristin and Kat Davis, what you got there is Trash Beer. To them, it was as if the beer was itself garbage, rather than an unspoiled path to intoxication.
We went back and forth for quite some time on the matter. But you know what? In the end, they ended up carting themselves to Green's Liqour and forking over their radio station and cable company wages the next time they needed booze. Me? A simple matter of cooling off the curbside cocktails.
I mean honestly, is some robber dude going to buy a syringe that penetrates glass and poison a 12 pack of beer? Who has time for that? Wouldn't the robber just drink the beer? Of course he would. We beat the robber to the punch.
Who was right? Well, I was. Girls are funny.
LaGuardia
I told you the concept of LaGuardia was crazy. I'm not joking. I don't think the runway should go right up to the water. Who designed this??? Although maybe the water saved their lives. I'm moving back to Atlanta tomorrow, slowly, via car.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/15/new.york.plane.crash/index.html
http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/15/new.york.plane.crash/index.html
Facebook: The First Reflection
There are many things to say about Facebook. I used to resist Facebook. I was too cool for it. Oftentimes I am too cool for things I do not yet understand. But then my friend Mike--well he prefers to be called Stumpy so let's go with that. Stumpy was all about Facebook. I crashed at his place a couple nights before I moved to New York. Both mornings he got up around 7:30, leaving me alone in his warm bed, and immediately checked Facebook. I mocked him. "Did something exciting happen on Facebook between 12:30 and now? It's kind of unhealthy to check out pictures of your sister's friends this early in the morning." Etc.
But then slowly Facebook drew me in. Before long I was its spawn. I craved status updates and wall postings more than Stumpy's knowing glance of desire. Does that sound gay at all? I just like to mess with Stumpy. Ah, Stumpy. You are manna for our souls. We drink of your wine.
Stumpy/Mike is a good guy. You would like him Mr. Internet. You would like him a lot. He can help you with technology things you don't understand. He has a good heart despite the slings of insensitive people around him (like me). Wait, this isn't about me. This is about SMike. Actually it's about Facebook. Maybe this is a postmodern post. Give me a minute to look up postmodern. Hmm it says "ironic self-reference and absurdity." And "involving a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language."
Maybe I shouldn't use words like that anymore. At the very least I shouldn't look them up. Although I may have the first part right. Ironic self reference. Hmm. Ironically referencing oneself. I have the most widely read blog on the Internet. That's not the kind of thing I would say. It's good to have these ideas written down though. We'll put them in the stew and see if they resurface later.
Anyway, Facebook. What is its most compelling draw? Is it the chance to be social in ways our day to day lives don't allow for? Or is it the chance to express ourselves in a broader format than our day to day lives? I have to think the answer is some variation or in some way related to these 2 concepts. Is it a bad thing if it's about our egos? Is it a sad thing if it provides social solace we don't otherwise attain?
Or maybe it's just fun. But I think it's deeper than fun. It hits on basic human needs and desires. It's all in there. It's probably the closest thing to mirroring our real lives that we've yet found on the Internet. It allows us to catalog ourselves. It allows us to become fledgling marketers. How do I want others to see me? What will I say about myself? What will I say to other people?
It's not as ephemeral as day to day life because it's documented. We've used that word before on this blog so it's now in the lexicon and will be used at all possible occassions. So is lexicon. My friend Clay brought up a good point--the pictures and words we see on Facebook do not come close to representing who we are as individuals. It's fairly easy to scan someone's profile and send a note--"Great to catch up with you, glad all is well!" Smiling photos do not mean all is well. Most people aren't going to publish personal anguish. So in some ways, Facebook is life watered down. Which might be another one of its draws. It's like heading out to the movies for a break, except the screen reflects pieces of who we are. But just pieces.
But then slowly Facebook drew me in. Before long I was its spawn. I craved status updates and wall postings more than Stumpy's knowing glance of desire. Does that sound gay at all? I just like to mess with Stumpy. Ah, Stumpy. You are manna for our souls. We drink of your wine.
Stumpy/Mike is a good guy. You would like him Mr. Internet. You would like him a lot. He can help you with technology things you don't understand. He has a good heart despite the slings of insensitive people around him (like me). Wait, this isn't about me. This is about SMike. Actually it's about Facebook. Maybe this is a postmodern post. Give me a minute to look up postmodern. Hmm it says "ironic self-reference and absurdity." And "involving a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language."
Maybe I shouldn't use words like that anymore. At the very least I shouldn't look them up. Although I may have the first part right. Ironic self reference. Hmm. Ironically referencing oneself. I have the most widely read blog on the Internet. That's not the kind of thing I would say. It's good to have these ideas written down though. We'll put them in the stew and see if they resurface later.
Anyway, Facebook. What is its most compelling draw? Is it the chance to be social in ways our day to day lives don't allow for? Or is it the chance to express ourselves in a broader format than our day to day lives? I have to think the answer is some variation or in some way related to these 2 concepts. Is it a bad thing if it's about our egos? Is it a sad thing if it provides social solace we don't otherwise attain?
Or maybe it's just fun. But I think it's deeper than fun. It hits on basic human needs and desires. It's all in there. It's probably the closest thing to mirroring our real lives that we've yet found on the Internet. It allows us to catalog ourselves. It allows us to become fledgling marketers. How do I want others to see me? What will I say about myself? What will I say to other people?
It's not as ephemeral as day to day life because it's documented. We've used that word before on this blog so it's now in the lexicon and will be used at all possible occassions. So is lexicon. My friend Clay brought up a good point--the pictures and words we see on Facebook do not come close to representing who we are as individuals. It's fairly easy to scan someone's profile and send a note--"Great to catch up with you, glad all is well!" Smiling photos do not mean all is well. Most people aren't going to publish personal anguish. So in some ways, Facebook is life watered down. Which might be another one of its draws. It's like heading out to the movies for a break, except the screen reflects pieces of who we are. But just pieces.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Horror movies
I have no desire to see a horror movie in 3D. Death is creepy enough as it is. I don't want to live out what's it like to have a giant knife spinning through the air at my face.
Lucky underwear
I have an interview today and was wondering. Does lucky underwear exist? Ladies, will you mail me a pair of yours to help me figure this out? I'll need a photo of you to help determine if you are an appropriate test subject.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Laughing matters
Goddamn that was a really lame title I just came up with! I mean seriously. Unacceptable on my part and you have my apology. I guess I could just leave the title blank but that doesn't seem to be very helpful to my 4 followers who signed up to follow my blog to be nice to me and will likely never read this blog again. Let's be honest Jennifer McCahan you're the only person reading this. And I appreciate it!
So the whole reason I got into comedy was because (terrible grammar but fuck it) I wanted to see if it would be possible to replicate the feeling you get when you and three or four people are laughing uncontrollably, usually while drunk. And the answer is: no. No, it's not. Getting an audience of strangers (or frankly people you know in groups larger than, say, four) to laugh in unison is quite different than an inside joke with your pals. Inside joke example: I don't think those are empty pot bags scattered around Washington Heights.
By the way can I just pause here and say Billy Crystal is telling some long, fairly lame story about a raccoon on Letterman right now? Don't get me wrong, I understand the guy's a legend. But I do dislike how once a guest achieves a certain level of celebrity talk show audiences glibly laugh along anytime there's a pause. Just because Billy Crystal or Robin Williams (especially Robin Williams) are talking doesn't mean everything they say is funny. Funny is defined on a moment to moment basis. People should laugh because of content not because of reputation. They should also follow my rules for laughing.
As I was saying. For argument's sake let's conjecture that there are two kinds of funny. Funny Type 1: That which you create and share with a crowd. It's commercially viable and broadly accessible material. Type 2: Humor that springs from intimacy and specific knowledge of a person or group. I'd say generally Type 2 yields the hardest laughter and resonates most deeply. Each of us has a distinct set of experiences and people in our lives that can yield humorous content. It's personally relevant and deeply understood. So a case could be made that these jokes and moments are the most rewarding.
But how funny can it be if only four people understand the joke? I'd bet most people would put their favorite lines from their favorite comedians up against personal stories they found the most enjoyable. Type 1 has the potential to give scores of people enjoyment. Type 2 is situation based and generally ephemeral. I don't know what that word means either. Yes I do. But I felt bad for you for a minute. Unless you do know what it means. In which case you're probably a little mad at me right now. I understand. Take a minute.
There's really no point in figuring this out because really there's nothing to figure out. Both kinds have their purpose and it would be impossible to assign any kind of value to either type. My point is: Why are you reading this?
That was also a rude thing to say. My point is that when I began to approach the comedy field this argument was a central piece of my motivation. Can I replicate the doubled over laughter I occasionally have created or contributed to in a small group in a much larger setting? Can I get rooms full (or nearly empty) of strangers to see an idea in my head the way I see that idea? And if they see it my way, will they find it as funny as I did when I wrote it? The answer is no.
Just kidding. Sort of. It's a work in progress. I'm reading back through this to see if it makes me come across like I have a big ego. Because I don't. Maybe I did, but not anymore. Not about comedy stuff. About other stuff. Maybe that's another posting topic--how we perceive our skill levels in different areas of interest vs. how the world perceives our skill levels.
Figuring that gap out creates a whole new level of self awareness. It can be daunting and discouraging. But what keeps me going is the knowledge that even if I didn't put my efforts on display my level of natural talent would still be what it is. My genuine talent or genuine shittiness exists whether or not I test it out. So may as well test it out. Get closer to reality, closer to an authentic life.
So the whole reason I got into comedy was because (terrible grammar but fuck it) I wanted to see if it would be possible to replicate the feeling you get when you and three or four people are laughing uncontrollably, usually while drunk. And the answer is: no. No, it's not. Getting an audience of strangers (or frankly people you know in groups larger than, say, four) to laugh in unison is quite different than an inside joke with your pals. Inside joke example: I don't think those are empty pot bags scattered around Washington Heights.
By the way can I just pause here and say Billy Crystal is telling some long, fairly lame story about a raccoon on Letterman right now? Don't get me wrong, I understand the guy's a legend. But I do dislike how once a guest achieves a certain level of celebrity talk show audiences glibly laugh along anytime there's a pause. Just because Billy Crystal or Robin Williams (especially Robin Williams) are talking doesn't mean everything they say is funny. Funny is defined on a moment to moment basis. People should laugh because of content not because of reputation. They should also follow my rules for laughing.
As I was saying. For argument's sake let's conjecture that there are two kinds of funny. Funny Type 1: That which you create and share with a crowd. It's commercially viable and broadly accessible material. Type 2: Humor that springs from intimacy and specific knowledge of a person or group. I'd say generally Type 2 yields the hardest laughter and resonates most deeply. Each of us has a distinct set of experiences and people in our lives that can yield humorous content. It's personally relevant and deeply understood. So a case could be made that these jokes and moments are the most rewarding.
But how funny can it be if only four people understand the joke? I'd bet most people would put their favorite lines from their favorite comedians up against personal stories they found the most enjoyable. Type 1 has the potential to give scores of people enjoyment. Type 2 is situation based and generally ephemeral. I don't know what that word means either. Yes I do. But I felt bad for you for a minute. Unless you do know what it means. In which case you're probably a little mad at me right now. I understand. Take a minute.
There's really no point in figuring this out because really there's nothing to figure out. Both kinds have their purpose and it would be impossible to assign any kind of value to either type. My point is: Why are you reading this?
That was also a rude thing to say. My point is that when I began to approach the comedy field this argument was a central piece of my motivation. Can I replicate the doubled over laughter I occasionally have created or contributed to in a small group in a much larger setting? Can I get rooms full (or nearly empty) of strangers to see an idea in my head the way I see that idea? And if they see it my way, will they find it as funny as I did when I wrote it? The answer is no.
Just kidding. Sort of. It's a work in progress. I'm reading back through this to see if it makes me come across like I have a big ego. Because I don't. Maybe I did, but not anymore. Not about comedy stuff. About other stuff. Maybe that's another posting topic--how we perceive our skill levels in different areas of interest vs. how the world perceives our skill levels.
Figuring that gap out creates a whole new level of self awareness. It can be daunting and discouraging. But what keeps me going is the knowledge that even if I didn't put my efforts on display my level of natural talent would still be what it is. My genuine talent or genuine shittiness exists whether or not I test it out. So may as well test it out. Get closer to reality, closer to an authentic life.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Accomplishments
Sometimes I take great pride in miniscule achievements. Like getting ready. I think about each step and smugly nod my head when it's completed. Yep, washed my arms. Arms are good to go. Wash my feet? Oh yes, we'll get there. There it is. There it is now. Clean as a whistle. Freshly showered, bitches.
Talcum powder below? Check. Deodorant? It's applied. Borderline gay face lotion? Smoothed on. Can't even see the white anymore. This guy right here is very close to being completely ready to go outside. Won't be long now.
Boxers, slid those bitches right on. Same goes for the jeans. Once the shirt slips on, that's when you know you're close. The feel of the shirt on your above-waist skin, that's like rounding third and heading for home. I mean hell if someone broke in right now at least I'd have a shirt on. You can't deny me that. I'm ready for action, technically. At this point socks and shoes are gravy. Socks and shoes mean my feet won't hurt on the pavement outside. That's a good place to be. Secure in your walking capacities.
I also like to look in the mirror after I'm ready and think about how far I've come. The before and after. Just 30 minutes ago that guy was disheveled, pointy hair in the back, borderline greasy. Now? Shit. Smooth as silk.
When I get outside I half expect strangers to grab my arm--"Hey man you look really ready! Did you forget anything? No dude, you look clean as hell. Damn! Everyone out here better step off!" Soon the crowds part and they stare, wondering how, how did this erstwhile sleeper get to this point? Is there any part of him that isn't refreshed? Doubt it. Then some rap music comes on.
Talcum powder below? Check. Deodorant? It's applied. Borderline gay face lotion? Smoothed on. Can't even see the white anymore. This guy right here is very close to being completely ready to go outside. Won't be long now.
Boxers, slid those bitches right on. Same goes for the jeans. Once the shirt slips on, that's when you know you're close. The feel of the shirt on your above-waist skin, that's like rounding third and heading for home. I mean hell if someone broke in right now at least I'd have a shirt on. You can't deny me that. I'm ready for action, technically. At this point socks and shoes are gravy. Socks and shoes mean my feet won't hurt on the pavement outside. That's a good place to be. Secure in your walking capacities.
I also like to look in the mirror after I'm ready and think about how far I've come. The before and after. Just 30 minutes ago that guy was disheveled, pointy hair in the back, borderline greasy. Now? Shit. Smooth as silk.
When I get outside I half expect strangers to grab my arm--"Hey man you look really ready! Did you forget anything? No dude, you look clean as hell. Damn! Everyone out here better step off!" Soon the crowds part and they stare, wondering how, how did this erstwhile sleeper get to this point? Is there any part of him that isn't refreshed? Doubt it. Then some rap music comes on.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Sponges
Why in God's name are sponges moist when you buy them? That is nasty. I'm not sure what the source of this moisture is. I can provide my own moisture, sponge companies. In fact, that's why I bought the sponge--to pair it up with my own sources of liquid. I don't need a head start. I'm not sure I trust sponge factory workers at this point.
Practice
"Practice is an ever-fresh, challenging flow of work and play in which we continually test and demolish our own delusions; therefore it is sometimes painful."
--Stephen Nachmanovitch, Free Play
I love this book. It was recommended by my improv teacher. I thought it was going to have an instructional bent but instead it's a well thought out exploration of creativity, what it means, and how we can best access our creative abilities and instincts. And it's not simply the author's whimsical thoughts about creativity--the book is an articulation of theories and insights he's likely spent a lifetime developing. The word "guru" is fairly cheesy but it might apply here. Although if he truly was a guru I'd probably have to beat his ass out of principle.
You can turn to most any page and read deep, personally relevant material. I love any book like that. I like smart people teaching me things. I thought the practice quote was especially applicable to those intrepid souls venturing into stand up. My classmates and I all took our lumps during fall semester. I think we showed up to class the first day thinking "Okay, I'm good and these classes will help the world figure that out." Uh, no. We all have material that sucks, that we thought was solid when we wrote it down or laughed at it the first time we said it. But you have to bring the unformed glass into the fire before it turns into anything relevant or useful. The fire in this case being ridiculously bright spotlights and bewildered looks on audience members' faces.
Oh, I thought that joke was funny. But no one here does. Hmm. That's a painful reality to face on stage in front of strangers. It's not like getting a crossword puzzle clue wrong in your living room. The standup mistake crystallizes in a public place with plenty (hopefully) of witnesses to the carnage.
And so learning what works and what doesn't is more than a simple, prolonged search for material that is tried and tested and polished. At times, it's about facing your delusions. At times I have a hard time distinguishing between what is mean and what is funny. You know, the old adage "The joke's not funny unless someone's feelings are getting hurt." That might not be the best adage. So I've had to confront my delusion (with the help of my comedy instructor Steve Rosenfield). I'm not saying I've overcome it, but at least I'm aware now. And I do think mean and funny can make for good bedfellows. They just have to be laid out the right way. Audiences have surprising reservoirs of compassion and empathy. Not for comedians. For the subjects comedians choose to target. So the comic must let the audience know he has compassion and empathy too before launching into material that could be viewed as simply an attack.
One of the appeals of comedy is trying to replicate the laughing so hard until your stomach hurts feeling with a room full of strangers. It seems so simple and seductive watching an HBO special. But to get to that place requires the dismantling of plenty of delusions. And the delusions aren't just about your material. They're about your perspective on the world. They're about who you are.
Then again, what the fuck do I know.
--Stephen Nachmanovitch, Free Play
I love this book. It was recommended by my improv teacher. I thought it was going to have an instructional bent but instead it's a well thought out exploration of creativity, what it means, and how we can best access our creative abilities and instincts. And it's not simply the author's whimsical thoughts about creativity--the book is an articulation of theories and insights he's likely spent a lifetime developing. The word "guru" is fairly cheesy but it might apply here. Although if he truly was a guru I'd probably have to beat his ass out of principle.
You can turn to most any page and read deep, personally relevant material. I love any book like that. I like smart people teaching me things. I thought the practice quote was especially applicable to those intrepid souls venturing into stand up. My classmates and I all took our lumps during fall semester. I think we showed up to class the first day thinking "Okay, I'm good and these classes will help the world figure that out." Uh, no. We all have material that sucks, that we thought was solid when we wrote it down or laughed at it the first time we said it. But you have to bring the unformed glass into the fire before it turns into anything relevant or useful. The fire in this case being ridiculously bright spotlights and bewildered looks on audience members' faces.
Oh, I thought that joke was funny. But no one here does. Hmm. That's a painful reality to face on stage in front of strangers. It's not like getting a crossword puzzle clue wrong in your living room. The standup mistake crystallizes in a public place with plenty (hopefully) of witnesses to the carnage.
And so learning what works and what doesn't is more than a simple, prolonged search for material that is tried and tested and polished. At times, it's about facing your delusions. At times I have a hard time distinguishing between what is mean and what is funny. You know, the old adage "The joke's not funny unless someone's feelings are getting hurt." That might not be the best adage. So I've had to confront my delusion (with the help of my comedy instructor Steve Rosenfield). I'm not saying I've overcome it, but at least I'm aware now. And I do think mean and funny can make for good bedfellows. They just have to be laid out the right way. Audiences have surprising reservoirs of compassion and empathy. Not for comedians. For the subjects comedians choose to target. So the comic must let the audience know he has compassion and empathy too before launching into material that could be viewed as simply an attack.
One of the appeals of comedy is trying to replicate the laughing so hard until your stomach hurts feeling with a room full of strangers. It seems so simple and seductive watching an HBO special. But to get to that place requires the dismantling of plenty of delusions. And the delusions aren't just about your material. They're about your perspective on the world. They're about who you are.
Then again, what the fuck do I know.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Career transitions-article snippet
Harry B. Weiner, a partner at On-Ramps, a recruiting and consulting firm that works with financial professionals, says the economic downturn is creating a new psychology of career transition.
“People feel there’s nothing to lose in terms of taking a risk and pursuing a new direction, especially when you have a résumé that says ‘banking’ and no banks are hiring,” Mr. Weiner said.
That was certainly the calculus for Benjamin Cox, 33. After leaving his job as a vice president at Goldman Sachs in August, he immediately began incubating his plans to work on his screenplay — he calls it a cross between “Swingers” and “Annie Hall” — and start a production company.
Mr. Cox said that with the upheaval on Wall Street, he feels relieved to have a backup plan. “I’m seeing a lot of people who never thought of an alternative to banking.”
Shaun Gatter, 38, left his position as a vice president and counsel at a large investment bank last year to work on his novel about a Jewish South African family, a story set against the backdrop of apartheid.
Mr. Gatter says that the decision has meant a huge financial adjustment, but that the payback — having more mental energy for his book — has been worth it.
“It’s been euphoric to be able to think mainly about the book and less about equity derivatives and client risk.”
Greg Collett, 37, left his job as a director in the commodity exchange-traded fund business at Deutsche Bank in June to explore a career in stand-up comedy.
“I had this gnawing feeling that things were only going to get worse and that Wall Street was not the place to be,” Mr. Collett said, adding that it was easier to leave knowing that compensation packages were going to be a fraction of what they were a few years ago.
Richard Florida, author of “Who’s Your City?” and director of the Martin Prosperity Institute at the University of Toronto, sees the gravitational pull away from Wall Street and toward more creative industries as part of a necessary economic recalibration.
“The economy couldn’t survive on speculation and what really amounted to advanced financial alchemy,” he said. “We are now realizing it is our human creativity that is our real capital.
“The economic downturn is going to free up top talent to do other things that are going to change the metabolism of cities like New York in a very good way.”Thursday, January 1, 2009
Understanding women
Forewarning: This story is based on observations from a night of drinking. An entirely separate and more logical set of observations may have sprung from a sober night reflecting on the couch. Unfortunately those nights typically don't motivate me to type. Unlike tonight.
I don't understand girls. I mean, who are we kidding here. But from time to time I put my thinking cap on and say to it "Okay fella, let's see if we can learn a thing or two tonight about the non-males."
Here's a relatively easy lesson. Guys pride themselves on going to the bathroom separately. No need to chit chat with other guys while our hands are near our crotch. We assumed we had that one all figured out.
Girls don't see life that simply. They go to the bathroom and while sequestered share vital information with each other about how the night is progressing, who said what about who, and what the strategy should be upon exiting the bathroom.
The girls are plotting strategy in there. You can't win a war you're not trying to fight. Guys aren't fighting this war. We're letting it get away from us, drowning our intellect in sports scores.
It's kind of like halftime speeches. Guys go out on the town, they get zero speeches from anyone. The only speech they get is a self reminder: Try to talk to a cute girl. Girls go out, they may not have a speech to start. But sooner or later they go to the bathroom together and one of them is down and out. The other one gives her a pep talk, they regroup, and they rally around the pep talk.
This is a whole new layer of intimacy guys don't really understand. We're generally on auto pilot ranking ourselves on how long we talk to you and how pretty we think you are.
Actually what do I know. I'm not generally in women's bathrooms. I assume this is what's happening in there.
Second observation: Girls in groups are very in tune with what the other girls in the group are thinking and feeling. Every so often they look around the group, one by one, surveying emotions to see if anyone is unhappy. If everyone seems happy, great, let's keep having fun. If someone is unhappy, well then, why is she unhappy? And more importantly, does she annoy us? If so, her unhappiness annoys us and our annoyance wins out over her unhappiness. If she's justifiably unhappy and we like her (overall) then we need to fix this and are ourselves unhappy until it's fixed. And so on.
If you, a solo guy, spend time with groups of girls, sooner or later you'll find yourself in an eye lock with the girls. Why, you think, are we all looking at each other? Well, simple man, it's because we all care about each other and we all have empathy that we tap regularly. And so we make eye contact with each other now and then to see how everyone is doing. I know this is a simple act but I don't think most guys are aware that it happens. Guys are too focused on making the night a success or too focused on not focusing on anything at all.
At any rate, I pick these things up from time to time and apparently I've started to report my findings. Hey, it passes the time.
I don't understand girls. I mean, who are we kidding here. But from time to time I put my thinking cap on and say to it "Okay fella, let's see if we can learn a thing or two tonight about the non-males."
Here's a relatively easy lesson. Guys pride themselves on going to the bathroom separately. No need to chit chat with other guys while our hands are near our crotch. We assumed we had that one all figured out.
Girls don't see life that simply. They go to the bathroom and while sequestered share vital information with each other about how the night is progressing, who said what about who, and what the strategy should be upon exiting the bathroom.
The girls are plotting strategy in there. You can't win a war you're not trying to fight. Guys aren't fighting this war. We're letting it get away from us, drowning our intellect in sports scores.
It's kind of like halftime speeches. Guys go out on the town, they get zero speeches from anyone. The only speech they get is a self reminder: Try to talk to a cute girl. Girls go out, they may not have a speech to start. But sooner or later they go to the bathroom together and one of them is down and out. The other one gives her a pep talk, they regroup, and they rally around the pep talk.
This is a whole new layer of intimacy guys don't really understand. We're generally on auto pilot ranking ourselves on how long we talk to you and how pretty we think you are.
Actually what do I know. I'm not generally in women's bathrooms. I assume this is what's happening in there.
Second observation: Girls in groups are very in tune with what the other girls in the group are thinking and feeling. Every so often they look around the group, one by one, surveying emotions to see if anyone is unhappy. If everyone seems happy, great, let's keep having fun. If someone is unhappy, well then, why is she unhappy? And more importantly, does she annoy us? If so, her unhappiness annoys us and our annoyance wins out over her unhappiness. If she's justifiably unhappy and we like her (overall) then we need to fix this and are ourselves unhappy until it's fixed. And so on.
If you, a solo guy, spend time with groups of girls, sooner or later you'll find yourself in an eye lock with the girls. Why, you think, are we all looking at each other? Well, simple man, it's because we all care about each other and we all have empathy that we tap regularly. And so we make eye contact with each other now and then to see how everyone is doing. I know this is a simple act but I don't think most guys are aware that it happens. Guys are too focused on making the night a success or too focused on not focusing on anything at all.
At any rate, I pick these things up from time to time and apparently I've started to report my findings. Hey, it passes the time.
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