Two Nights In New York City
The Gratitude List #26
Saturday, April 12th
I'm out and about with Shaunak as he bounces between spots. While we walk through the Lower East Side into Chinatown, then from Chinatown to catch a train to Midtown, we catch each other up on our lives, our wives, and our place in the comedy rat race. Things are good for both of us, even with the constant uncertainty comics know is just part of what we signed up for.
One of the things I love the most about New York compared to LA—the sheer volume of stage time—is clearly something he’s been taking advantage of. Watching Shaunak on stage is like watching someone uncork a shaken-up champagne bottle: I witness the room turn into an immediate party. He’s feisty, lovable even when he’s roasting you, and spitting tons of well-honed jokes.
Over the course of the night, sitting in green rooms, chopping it up with the other comics on the other shows, a truth seems to emerge: what matters most here is if you can shake the room. Here, the comics all know to treat their jokes the way chefs treat their knives. Everything must be as sharp as possible at all times. Here, talent truly only gets you so far; skill and dedication is important, and every comic sitting back here knows that.
As we’re headed towards spot number 3, Shaunak and I talk about an undercurrent to all of this: knowing yourself. At some point in every young comic’s career, the barrier between art and craft is finally eroded. The grind may still take it out of you physically—especially here, where it seems like you’re basically starting from square one every day until you build up enough momentum—but you don’t mind because you’ve finally found yourself.
Or, as Shaunak puts it: “if you were a Pokémon gym leader, what type would you be?”
I barely have to think about this. “Psychic-type,” I reply.
“Yes, dude!” he says. We stop for a second and act out what my cool gym leader pose would be. Then, the light changes, and we go back to walking to the next basement.
Tuesday, April 15th
I’m up late in Bushwick with Zahid, Napoleon, and a new comic, 17 open mics in, who watched us at a show and chatted us up after. We’re at a second location now, and Zahid has sung his second karaoke song, both dedicated to me.
At some point, our new acquaintance asks about the writing process. I do one of those “look around you” gestures at the table, then the bar. “It’s this,” I say. “A lot of hanging out, shooting the shit, and noticing things.” The other guys nod along. “You get the ball rolling, and maybe you’re a great writer to start, so then you have to work on your performance, but then you need to write better jokes, and you just keep swinging the pendulum back and forth until it’s perpetually moving.” We’ve all been doing it roughly the same amount of time—somewhere between 10 and 15 years—and even though our styles and demeanors are vastly different, the approach feels universal.
Later, after his third (and final) karaoke song of the night, also dedicated to me, Zahid and I find ourselves talking about honesty on stage while the other guys are closing out their tabs. “I started trying to figure out what the most honest thing I could say was,” he says. “Because after a certain point, I’d rather not change myself up there.”
This, I point out, is where real authenticity lives. It’s about knowing yourself so well that you know what’s worth saying publicly versus what’s worth keeping private. “Some of your new stuff from tonight,” he says as we’re saying our goodbyes, “was the most honest I’ve ever seen you on stage. And I loved it.” I thank him. “That Japanese sex egg thing?1 Hilarious!” We hug it out and I head to my Lyft.
I’m not always one for the hang. Being sober, in my mid-30s, and living in Los Angeles is not the greatest combo for staying out late. But moments like this, when a kernel of something hugely useful for the craft emerges—like someone you respect saying you’re on the right side of the line between vulnerability and oversharing—are why the hang is worth it.
THINGS I’M GLAD I SAW LAST WEEK
THE STEAK FRITES AT LORI JAYNE
I did Zahid and Napoleon’s show at Alphaville in Brooklyn knowing the entire time that I was going to demolish this meal. If I had a great set, I get steak frites as a treat. If I had a bad set, I get steak frites as a comfort. Unfortunately, the set was mid, but Lori Jayne’s steak frites are otherworldly. Perfectly cooked steak, perfectly fried potatoes, perfectly zippy au poivre sauce, perfectly served with chopsticks so you don’t have to wash your hands after fishing the last few fries out of the bottom of the paper tray the whole shebang is served in. C’est magnifique.
KYLE REHL RIFFING WHILE A CAR CRASH HAPPENS
Kyle is truly one of the kings of dealing with the unexpected on stage, like the infamous moment where he accidentally started roasting Zack Snyder. This weekend, he did a show where a car hit a pedestrian during his set. He kept going, and kept it funny. Truly something that needs to be seen to be believed!
BEN PALMER’S FAKE ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT REPORTING WEBSITE
Ben, or “@palmertrolls” if you’re extremely online, is up to his fake website shenanigans again, this time setting up a fake website where doofuses have tried (and obviously failed) to report illegal immigrants for deportation. Ben is a true master of fucking with people and keeping it all absurd and entertaining, and the few videos he’s posted so far from this series – Ben, I hope this is a series – show that this might be among his finest work.
MIKE GLAZER’S “SWIFTIES VS. NAZIS” SET
Mike got shouted out here a couple of weeks ago for his deft handling of getting heckled by a literal Nazi during a set in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Now, the backlash to the backlash and the responses to the responses have gotten so strange and layered, he had no choice but to do close to 15 minutes of comedy about them alone. Do yourself a favor and watch Mike unspool this epic yarn!
A BRIEF DISPATCH FROM RECOVERYLAND
I’m in a meeting Sunday afternoon that was recommended to me by some fellows, where I hear one of my favorite long leads in recent memory. One quote sticks out, interlocking with the lingering creative charge after my night out with Shaunak and lingering with me long through my late night in Brooklyn:
“I cannot recover at a distance.”
If I want to be my best, truest self, that means spending some time in the trenches, doing the work. How fitting that in the city where I always feel the most like an artist, every day, I am reminded that I can’t go too long keeping the work at an arm’s length.
WHAT ABOUT ME?
This week, you can find me:
doing shows in New York City - full show calendar is here
And if you haven’t checked out my comedy game show WRONG!, now’s a great time – we’re hitting San Diego, Boise, Portland, Seattle, and LA next month!
Until next time, friends. Thanks for reading, I’m glad you’re here!
This one you’ll have to come see live.