I watched a hilarious comedy show with one of my besties last night in Harlem, before we went for a sultry August stroll up the Hudson River. It’s funny, because this particular mate of mine has never seen me go up – but we’ve read my joke books and cackled on my carpet once or twice.
There’s nothing better than making someone laugh. I’m putting serious consideration into an open mic tonight at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. I’ve written some new jokes, I’ve got some from old sets.
I was on the phone with Australia earlier, engulfed in another “Come home!” conversation when we talked about some of the gigs I did over there. There’s a lightness and joy to doing comedy. I think I’m going to start having a play here and there.
There is also a lot of lightness and joy in Harlem, and I’m fortunate to have people in life to take care of me. Everyone needs to be taken care of in a certain way.
Last night I watched the late summer sky turn tangerine and dip into lavender and fusia before a luscious full moon consumed the evening.
I’ve sorted out a few personal sagas. In between tending to those and keeping up with my writing, I’ve been feeling alright. I’ll take feeling alright before feeling shit all day. I’m still moderately annoyed by another dude. They are a dime a dozen in this town. I think I’ll wait til I go back down under to find the love of my life. New York is a bit whack in that category.
Oh, and I’ve been listening to Believe Me on repeat for like the past three days. Drake kills it.