Funny doesn't grow on trees

So I've been doing stand-up comedy for all of a month now, and somehow that qualifies me to dissect the practice like an expert.

There's a moment in every set, no matter how much it bombs (and since my experience thusfar has been primarily bombing, let's focus on that kind of set) when a joke hits, whether it's a punchline or a premise. It might only be one person, or it might be the room, but something you say gets a big loud laugh. Maybe it's, I don't know, "Do you think when Angelina Jolie goes through menopause, she'll turn into Mick Jagger?" Or, conversely, something funny.

Here's what I'm trying to figure out: when you get that hit, do you run with it, or do you continue down the path of your written, prepared material? Because unless you're Robin Williams on cocaine or Billy Connolly on Billy Connolly's brain, the likelihood of being able to just stand in front of people, speak, and make them die laughing is extremely slim. You're expected to bring prepared material that you, to the best of your ability, have made funny. Especially in front of a paying audience.

I think the answer is, yes, prepare that shit and have an end goal in mind for every bit, but when you find a laugh, it's okay to pursue it? So far, I've been plowing through sets like a man on a runaway riding lawnmower, and I'll get one laugh, maybe two if there's someone drunk enough. But I feel like there's more to get. I don't feel hopeless (yet). I wonder if my whole approach is too rigid and if there's a give-and-take flow that makes the best comedians seem more spontaneous than they are, or allows them to discover new material that can be prepared and remixed with confidence, instead of firing blanks into a dark room at 1 a.m.

I thought I could give this stand-up thing another go because of my beloved Santa Cruz hash house harriers, because I used to stand in front of a circle of annihilated drunks who were also my friends and make them laugh and sing. Turns out, getting your drunk friends to laugh is a different skill set from getting a room full of kinda tipsy fellow comedians to laugh, which in turn is a different skill set from getting a room full of angry drunk strangers to laugh. (Why are strangers angry? I don't know, but in regards to yesterday's post, that might be why parents are always warning kids to stay away from them. Mean alcoholics.)

Anyway, this is just pure ego release right now, and I should stop, before it veers into the territory of compliment fishing. I'm a terrible compliment fisherman. I have too much self-confidence to do it properly, and when I angle toward a compliment I usually rebuff it with asshole rejection before it can swallow the bait, to torture a metaphor. 

Time for bed. And also, therapy. Happy New Year, human beings. I think we're all going to remember 2011 as "the year when they finally stopped making those stupid novelty eyeglasses for drunks on Times Square to wear."