The Politics of Open Mics in New York City

So, Yes, I have been slacking in the posting department. I know you all are so very expectant of what I've been doing over the past week/weekend--teeming with anticipation! And I'll have you know that I've been doing NOTHING, absolute zero-- as it relates to comedy.

...I don't want the money, I just want the stagetime...

I have been investigating getting a portable PA system to perform in the streets/subway, to up my comedy ante. Although, I heard you need to have a Tax ID # in order to perform underground or publicly for that matter. I don't want the money. I just want the stagetime!

Let me explain why I've come to this conclusion. I need to be onstage more, less to do with joke telling, and more to do with having a mic in my hand and speaking into it. Really, I just need to get comfortable walking and talking, formally!

These open mics cost money, which I'm not sure I've mentioned before. But I will do so now. Let's get behind the 'Politics of Open mics in NYC': Owners and GMs (general managers) are hip to the scene. They know these scrap comics are bad at what they do, but are desperate enough to perform anywhere. There's a joke about setting up a mic stand in an alley, and comics will flock (without any advertising.)

Let me tell you who's not doing a great job in advertising department: The Comedy Clubs. Well, maybe that's a bit farfetched. But the Comedy Boom of the 90s is long gone. Where's the next Seinfeld, Ellen DeGeneres, Chris Rock, or Dave Chappelle? (I think Dave Chappelle was an aberration/fluke. Comedy was dying and he gave it its last few breaths. He and John Mayer.) So comedy in general has been in a bear market, and hence comedy club owners feel they charge for open mics. Open mics are now at least $5 - $7 or a one to two drink minimum. I'm not a miser. I know these venues (comedy clubs, restaurants, etc.) need to remain afloat as a business. So why not take it out on some wanna-be comic, who's got nothing better to do with his money/time? Good rationale. But this "pay for stagetime" thing has only been a recent occurrence--within the last 2 - 4 years.

So I've decided to "take it to the streets." I'll let you know how this progresses. I'll try and record the audio. I have no idea how I'm going to do that. But where there's a will there's a way!

Law school stuff has been dominating the agenda, and much to my surprise it's actually fun to do. Yes, I said it. LSAT review is actually FUN! I know, I know. I shouldn't be writing that. But my mind is one that likes to take apart puzzles and figure out crazy clues and put them back together again.

And I'll have you know, lawyers and standup comedians have a lot in common. The assembling of an argument and the assembling of a joke is quite the same. There's a beat to it--a rhythm, if you will. Logic is well-represented in both media.

Cool occurrences in the past week:

I FINALLY got to see Demetri Martin perform at ITU last Wednesday. Super cool. I literally swooned. I didn't know swooning was something that occurred outside of cheesy 50s movies. (*In the voice of a high school teenager with heart throb-itis*) "He's so witty and so smart!"

Anyway, it's something I've been waiting to see for awhile--his standup set. It's the first time live since 2005! (I didn't mean for that to rhyme.) Anyway, it was well worth the wait!

I also saw Mr. Dave Attell hanging out yesterday. He wasn't actually hanging out. He was probably making some very important phone call to his manager. I happened to see him and wave hello. He sort of did the "I-have-no-idea-who-you-are" grimacing smile. But I couldn't resist! It was cool. I feel like all these random sightings are a sign that I should keep going and simultaneously, like I'm being invited into a cool community.

~ Lucy

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My rant on... "Attractiveness as it relates to me"

I got to see Greg Fitzsimmons, Louis CK, and Dave Attell perform all in one night in a really intimate venue.

Too good to be true? Well, it is. The night couldn't have gone any smoother, until I had to open my big fat self-righteous mouth. What happened?

...love your looks...

I insulted the host, par accident. (Cocky son-of-a...!)

The conversation went a little something like this:

- Host: Love your looks.

- Me: And? And what? Now you want my number? (...is what I wanted to say.)


Instead, I buckled and said, "Do you work here?"

"I'm the host," he responds.

One for me. Zero for Cocky Bastard.

Listen, for all those who haven't met me, I know I'm attractive. You don't have to remind me. And I promise you, I'm not vain or self-absorbed about my looks in anyway. I'm actually a very humble and God-fearing person. And if anything I downplay my looks so as not to be in limelight all the time. I would much rather be in the background. Back in the day, I was an expert wallflower.

For some strange reason, it seems that in order to be attractive to a man in NYC, all you need to have are two legs and a crevice. Trust me. You don't have to remind me that I'm attractive. Each and everyday I try to forget, but some a$$hole has to say something stupid to bring it to my attention---something typically male and condescending. It's usually black men, specifically New York men. (I don't get this in Chicago or L.A.)

Get ready for my rant:

"Don't step to me like I'm supposed to know you, or that we have some relationship that exists only in your head. Speak to me like you would approach any other person. I'm not some ghetto-fab girl or some enamored teenager that you can just talk to like a smitten groupie. I can and will care less."

Whew! There. Done. Glad I got that out of my system.

I must day that it's different. It's drastically different being an attractive girl who has no means to capitalize on her looks. To me, someone else mentioning my looks is a constant affront--even when girls do it. Girls are also sizing you up because we're "competition." Are you kidding? Like I'm going to compete the with the vapid airhead, who carries kneepads in her purse for "special occasions." I forfeit. She wins.

Actually, I would almost be happy with you mentioning how unattractive I am. Not because I would take any more interest in what you have to say next, but because I know it doesn't matter to me what I look like to you.

To be honest, I would rather you mention anything else but my looks. Let me get on my soapbox, for bit: (I mean, that's why you came to this blog, right?)

There are some girls who love, love, LOOOOVE to be worshiped for their looks and body. Especially, if they can squeeze their size 10 body into their size 4 jeans and get praised for it by taxi cab drivers and constructions workers. Good! Great! Thank God for them! More power to them! Because I know I don't want that kind of attention. I want it to be deflected onto them.

Back to the comedy show:
So in four words I ended up insulting the host. I'm glad he knows enough to keep away. I can't stand men like that.

Honestly, if you're reading this and you're male, take a hint--get a clue!

There are some women that fiend for that kind of attention, and they dress the part--slutty. Take a clue from that! They WANT it! Give it to them--not to me! And even if these women are trolls, they still get it (I'm referring to "the action.") GOOD! I say all the better! Go for it!

But I'm not the type. I don't dress that way. I don't ask for it. So in other case, leave me out of it. I ask all you men, "Be able to differentiate between those that want that attention, and those that don't."

In fact, maybe this amazing simple poem with help you guys to make the distinction.

~ Lucy

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