Thursday January 19th, 2012 - Fox Lake, IL It’s funny how life is a constant series of trade offs. When I was the young punk getting started in comedy, I had boundless energy and the stamina of a Marine. I could drive a car from sunrise to sunset, and still be fresh and ready to do not one but two shows that night. I ate whatever I wanted that was cheap and/or tasted good, got by on little to no sleep on a nightly basis and didn’t give a second thought to living a gypsy lifestyle. I was always in a new place, constantly meeting new people. It was perpetual adventure, and I loved it all. The only bad thing was, I didn’t have an act. I stunk severely, like a meadow full of sun ripened moose manure, and I knew it. I was bad for years. Every greenhorn is. It’s why all real comedians need to work the road. It’s the only way to acquire a set of sellable skills. Some of those skills are what happens on stage, but a lot more are what goes on the rest of the day. Between all the travel and constant acclimation to new situations, clubs, cities, regions, climate, customs, cuisine, protocol, politics and who knows what else, it can be a constant drain on the energy reserves. It’s easier to absorb in youth, but it does take a toll. Now, like a Navy Seal I can walk into virtually any comedic situation and know exactly what has to be done. I have no fear, and have become exactly what I set out to be from the start. It’s come full circle though, as now I have no desire whatsoever to travel anymore. If I was told tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to travel outside a 200 mile radius of home, it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I’d welcome it. I could still perform for good audiences, but not have to put all those hard miles on my car and myself. That’s the best of both worlds from my perspective now, but it might not be the smartest choice. I might have one final run. It wouldn’t take all that much to set me up financially for life. I’ve already survived like a bug for this long, and fortunately my standards have remained ridiculously low. If I ever do hit pay dirt, I won’t piss it away like some moron athlete or rapper that hits it big at 22. I’d be able to easily settle up what look like insurmountable money mountains now, but after that I’d really be free to do exactly what I’m doing now. I’d work on the same things I’m working on now, and that tells me I’m on the right track. I love what I’m doing, I just have a shortage of time and money. Time shrinks by the day, but money can be acquired. One hot coast to coast tour would really do it. I could deliver the shows, and they would be the same ones I’m giving now and have been for years. It took long enough to learn my craft, but I did. The price was high, but I paid it and then some. I can’t let that just vanish. Doing all the things I’m doing now are setting me up for that calculated run. I still have some gas in the tank, and if I had to go out and tour one last time I’d do it for money. I’d also do it for fun, which is what I did it for in the first place. Too bad fun isn’t the type of currency most landlords or creditors accept. If it was, I’d make Donald Trump look poor.
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