Here's a self involved story about me doing comedy: Patton Oswalt is one of my favorite comics ever. He's one of the reasons I decided that writing jokes could be a cool and complex way to be artistic without having to learn to play bass. This was years ago before every millennial with a narcissism complex figured that out. One time before I ever entertained the idea of doing stand up, a roommate walked in on me sitting in the dark listening to that Black Angus bit on headphones and laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. It scared the shit out of him but then I made him listen to it and he laughed. Then he did a lot of coke and beat up his girlfriend and I kicked him out. One time while I was bartending at Fun Fun Fun Fest I got to take a break to go watch his set from the side of the stage. Anyways a year ago I moved up here to NYC with no job and a can do [fuck you] attitude and spent a lot of time sleeping on couches and looking for jobs. Then a blizzard took a dump on me and I got really sick. I found a "room" in someone's kitchen deep in Bed Stuy and a "job" delivering pizzas on my bike for a "restaurant." On my birthday an elderly Italian man threw garbage at me while yelling something about scones. Phones don't work underground in the trains so If you get any texts or anything they hit you when you come back up above ground. One day I walked up the steps from a train and my phone was vibrating like a vibrator (simile). I checked it to find out that Patton was retweeting a bunch of shit I'd written on Twitter (a joke app for dumb idiots). I gained a lot of followers including Mr. Oswalt himself. I had never met him, I didn't really know how it had happened, though at this point I have some suspicions. It was a very cool and reassuring gesture to do for someone like myself who was freezing to death, considering giving up, and trying to navigate a confusing new frozen labyrinth full of all the ethnic stereotypes we learned about from watching Animaniacs. In a way it kept me going in the face of a white wall of seemingly endless tundra. I imagined him doing stand up at my age and getting a Friendster bump from some cool famous person or whatever the hell people did back then. It's indulgent to think about that sort of thing but sometimes you have to buy yourself a milkshake.
A couple days ago he was signing his new book, Silver Screen Fiend, at a Barnes and Noble. I got to talk to him for a second and told him thanks for the Twitter thing. I also got to make a killer joke about Richard Pryor's Supernigger but you kind of had to be there. Anyways I don't care what you think about the joke because it made him laugh. I made Patton Oswalt laugh, alright? Anyways get this, he remembered me from Twitter and said I'm funny. Then I made awkward conversation with some twitter people and left. I tried to do the UCBEast Tuesday night mic but apparently that shit is canceled so I got on a train and went home. Anyways when I got off the train and came above ground my busted ass Nexus phone was shitting itself with notifications because the motherfucker did it AGAIN.
It's cold as shit outside and I basically live in that warehouse from Fight Club. I'm writing this under a hanging light bulb like some idiot that read all the beat authors in high school instead of having sex. I haven't drank in a week but my immune system doesn't care. I'm sick again. My temples feel a dull crushing sensation and I have a voice like a roast beef sandwich. I sound like Harvey Firestein if he was talking while slurping soup. I guess I'm saying is, we all need to really think about what happened at Woodstock '99. Those who do not know history's mistakes are doomed to repeat them.