On Encountering Plateaus
or, An Open Mic Field Report
“Context is what appears when you hold your attention open for long enough; the longer you hold it, the more context appears.”
- Jenny Odell, How To Do Nothing
AUGUST 30TH
My living room, late at night. Daisygreen has just gotten home from seeing the 4K restoration of Barry Lyndon. Fittingly, I am writing by candlelight at our dining table. I don’t think Kubrick used scented candles designed to keep your house from smelling like litter boxes on set, but we work with what we’ve got.
She asks me how my night was. I tell her I’m feeling some creative malaise, that I decided to stay in tonight and regroup instead of sticking with my original plan, to go out. I tell her that it was nice to sift through all these old notes and premises to figure out what was worth keeping, to make some more progress on a long-delayed 4th step, to find a new way of editing and revising that feels like something that I can take action on in the coming days and weeks.
And I tell her about feeling lost in the comedy wilderness as of late, how acutely aware of my own potential I have become, how it feels like I’ve improperly balanced my attention and energy, how I just noticed where the scales were tipping. I tell her something I said to a comic a couple of weeks ago has been sticking with me:
“You want to be undeniable, but the fact is, you’re being denied.”
It was the kind of thing that you tell someone because you actually need to hear it for yourself, even if you don’t realize it in the moment. In this case, I told Danny, who is ramping his way back into standup after an extended break, while he was grappling with a rejection message he’d gotten after submitting to a show. We got to talking about the big dreams he had, which included wanting to be so good that no show would turn you down. Then, after saying the first thing I needed to hear, I said another: that this is a great opportunity to go back to process, to seek out open mics, to ruthlessly revise.
So, lately, as I’ve looked upon my calendar and see more dead nights and open weeks than I’d like, I’ve decided to heed my own advice.
AUGUST 18TH
A house in Echo Park, twilight. Twenty-odd people hang out in the front yard, adjacent to the open garage where someone is performing. I should have worn bug spray. Los Angeles has mosquitos now, and I keep finding new bug bites on my ankles and arms every time I don't wear bug spray and spend extended time outside. Annoying.
I like whenever someone opens a part of their home to stand-ups. You're trusting, but not so trusting that you'll let them roam freely. Here, we are allowed to hang out in the curated garage with the neon lights and the Japanese movie posters and the ads for beverages, and in the front yard, where people respectfully go to the furthest corner if they want to smoke.
I love this open mic. It's part of the small-but-growing trend of unlisted open mics, for the IYKYK crowd only. They tend to attract people who take the craft seriously because they must be sought out. There are a handful of others I have learned about, but this is the one I keep coming back to. Finding a good open mic is like treasure hunting, and this one is solid gold.
AUGUST 19TH
The Vault at The Elysian, early evening. A dark room, well air conditioned, black box style setup. The clientele is mostly women who won't put up with your bullshit, including the hosts, who say as much on stage at the top of the open mic. Everyone in attendance is supportive, but not blindly supportive. Those who sign up are actually trying and caring. The vibe is purposeful experimentation. Get your shit out of your system. Don't be precious about your inevitable failure.
AUGUST 20TH
A brewery in North Hollywood, early evening. We are relegated to the “game room,” which would normally host the type of nerds who want to come to a brewery to play Apples to Apples. On Wednesdays, it’s rented out for two hours by the type of nerds who want to share their mistakes and opinions with strangers. It's hot and bright, the white walls reflecting the sunlight and the late-summer heat back at us. The mics are being finicky. There's a fly buzzing around. Tough room. No one’s really laughing at anything, even the funny premises and ideas. There’s an emotional sweatiness to everything everyone’s doing on stage.
Everyone bails early except for one comic, an older woman, who exudes confidence and stays the course, earning big laughs. She, the one to finally crack the room, is unfortunately the third-to-last performer of the hour. But the lingering effects of her set provide the jolt we all need to finish this mic on a high note.
AUGUST 31ST
A women’s sports bar in Silver Lake, late afternoon. I've only been here once before—the week after the 2024 election, where I got to see the genesis of one of my favorite bits currently in my act—and I'm finally back now. There's someone sitting way off in the actual patio of the restaurant who isn't coming to where the comics sit, just watching from afar, occasionally laughing and clapping, while we test out our material.
It's broad daylight. Did I mention the sun hasn't set yet? Not even close. We're still in summertime sun, which is nice for the day drinkers at the bar, but not for comedy. But we’re under a tent and making do. One of the hosts brings the dog he just adopted, an apparent pit bull-husky mix. Beautiful eyes on a very strangely shaped body.
I have to go to a birthday party and a dinner party later tonight, so squeezing in an open mic in the daytime that fits neatly into my schedule feels necessary. And squeeze them in I do: my new method of churning material is put to the test, with one bit pulled from the back burner and two with new tags and structures on deck. The system works, and so do most of the new elements of the jokes. Thank God. Now to start applying it everywhere else.
SEPTEMBER 2ND
A Mexican restaurant in East Hollywood, night. I show up here an hour late, fresh off of watching Taylor Fritz get taken out of the U.S. Open by Novak Djokovic. I keep forgetting about this open mic, but I finally make it tonight, just in time to squeeze in the second-to-last set of the night. It appears to be a pretty classic open mic: drunk host who can't pronounce anyone's names correctly—"Light? Leach?" he tries, while introducing me—a lot of people on their phones, a lot of half-baked material. Premises without punchlines. Stories without endings. Sometimes, we need rooms like this, that feel like an uphill battle, even if I see the frustration getting to some of the other open micers. The guy before me starts his set by calling out, correctly, that 75% of the room is on their phones. “I’m not!” I say, trying to encourage him. “Play to me!” He leaves right after his set is finished, clearly feeling like his time was wasted.
But rooms like this, this is where you must go to prove something actually works. This is where the final layers of polish get added, in the places where you have to dangle something shiny in order to get people’s attention. The mic’s producer thanks me for coming, tells me to drop in any time. “You showing up is good for these newer guys,” he says. “They need to see what actual jokes look like.” Easy to forget that I used to also be someone who didn’t know. Good to get the reminder.
AUGUST 30TH
“I think you have a high ceiling, I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t,” Daisygreen says. Then, probably sensing that I need a real conversation right now and not the aw-shucks-it’s-gonna-be-okay back patting I sometimes need instead, she talks to me for a long time about the nitty-gritty of writing. She tells me what she thinks are my strengths, and offers me a way to access those strengths I hadn’t thought about before. The malaise gives way to childlike excitement, as we tap into a vein of work that feels like play.
"Sometimes there are peaks and valleys, but no one really talks about the plateaus," she says. And those can be vast, almost unending. But they're there, too, part of the topography of your life and creative output. You can't do anything about it but continue to trek towards the next part of the climb. If you're lucky, you'll have enough water and resources and drive to not be up here too long.
I think I’ve been on this plateau a little longer than I’d like to admit, but I did enjoy the view. But I see some more mountains I’d like to climb. It’s time to blaze those trails.
WHAT ELSE IS GOING ON?
This week, you can find me:
headlining in San Diego TONIGHT (if you’re reading this on Thursday)! Get tickets for that show here and find more upcoming dates on my full show calendar.
getting ready to host WRONG! in San Diego on Saturday at 10 PM, and in Los Angeles next Wednesday at the Comedy Store at 8 PM. Come thru!
Still need to catch up on the latest episodes of WRONG! before coming to see us live? Check out the newest one below.
Until next time, friends. Thanks for reading, I’m glad you’re here!