It is 8 AM.  I can’t remember what I’ve confessed into the cyber void of late (I’ve been reading “prose” recently, so I’m going to type this blog post like a real sprite).  I’m in a Starbucks in Boston, after three and a half hours sleep.  This has been my usual work routine the past 4 months:   I get up at 9 AM in NY, and take an 11 AM bus from lower Manhattan on a 4-6 hour journey to Boston.  I open the Howard Johnson’s Tiki Lounge at 5 PM, work until 1 or 2 AM, and then crash on a friend’s couch, or am allowed to sleep in a hotel room until 6:30 AM.  I shower, get out by 7 Am, and then wander the streets until I repeat the 5 PM Tiki shift, catch an overnight bus back to NY, and try to catch up on sleep.  Then I do comedy for 5 days and repeat.  Needless to say, my body is dying.

Exciting news though…only one more weekend of it all!  I’m moving back to New England for Thanksgiving through New Years, and I’m going to rest and see a doctor!  Oh sweet slumber, how I would dream about you if I were sleeping.  It’s really not that bad.  I’m sure plenty of people have a rougher schedule than I, but I’ve always needed more sleep than the average person.  I can feel my personality shutting down.  Like a bent-over old man, shuffling from one task to another.  Just concentrating on the floor until I get where ever it is I’m going.

New York’s done a lot of things for me, but one of the most important, is even there’s just one audience member at a show, I am SO grateful for that person.  I will never take an audience for granted again.  Holy God.  I can get up more times per week in New York than I can in Boston, but I definitely get in front of more audiences in New England.  This past Tuesday, I went to 3 open mics and watched a show.  I only got onstage for one of them.  I was last pulled last for two of the mics, one of which, all the just-comics audience left before I got onstage.  It was just me and the host, so I said screw it.  Then I was pulled last this late night mic I paid $3 to do, where I’d go up to no one at 3 AM.  I used stronger language than “screw it,” and left again.  You know…those heroic tales about comics giving up and then making it. Good work me.  But again, I would gladly go on at 3 AM, if there were going to be any audience members there.

The point is, I don’t get funnier as I get sadder (I’ll say!  (Got me!)).  Ninety-five percent sure I’m moving to San Francisco in January.  My plans seem to change based on how well I last performed, but I’m fairly certain.

I need to see the country soon if I’m going to do it, because for the first time in my life, I want to start dating someone.  Which may seem weird that this is just happening at 27, but up to this point, I’ve only really ever wanted to have sex (Mom, turn away from the screen!).  I want love and crap.  Bleh.  AND I’m smiling when I see little kids now.  Dear Lord.  I see children playing and I’m like “Awww.  Look how cute they are!”  Up until now, it’s been, “Get these disease-ridden, gnome-twinks away from me!”  It can’t be too long before I dream about teaching someone to play catch.  I must travel before that happens!!!