Despite the universe's intent to detain me in my hometown until I've settled down with a nice vegan, white guilt-ridden, unironically-bearded, organic farmer/former academic/reiki healer who has dated all of my female friends, I've finally made some progress with moving to NYC. Apartment viewings are lined up. Job interviews are scheduled. Open mics have been flagged for future humiliation.
Sure, my hometown has a delightful blend of hippies and rednecks, but perhaps I've outgrown that. Although I love being one of the favorite comedians in the Ithaca area, I'm ready to trade that in for a pair of skinny jeans (hmm already wearing those... skinnier jeans? Latex jeans?), an asymmetrical hair style, and copious opportunities to grace the stage as a total unknown.
At a recent open mic where I gloriously bombed in front of an audience of silent comics, a host once told me that all comics have to get used to eating shit on stage, I told him I would gladly Human Centipede myself to get better. Especially because I love disturbing imagery and masochism.
I have to note how incredibly supportive the Ithaca comedy scene has been and the opportunity to play the role I have played in championing that effort. Although I haven't gotten much public recognition for it, I feel honored to have been part of the movement and to see all my friends and family at my shows. I was lucky enough to consistently get stage time at the only stand up open mic in Ithaca as hosted by Ruben RC, the Crossroads showcase with Evan Roberts, the Ithaca Comedy Festival produced by the improv group Comedy FLOPS, and Erin Judge, who has been a fantastic mentor. As for the surrounding area, I would like to credit Kevin Salisbury of Binghamton Comedy, Pamela Werts of Chicks Are Funny, and Anna Phillips for supporting my launch in the upstate scene. My self-esteem thanks you (my liver does not).
So, here we go New York City! Show me your superficial, mind-blowingly rich assholes! Let me date your needy and debauched alcoholics! Finally, give me those chances to bomb onstage, feel my soul die a little, dust myself off, and irrationally repeat again. Hell, let me do it several times in the same night.
I love you Ithaca, but it's not you it's me. I'll call you some time. For now though, I'm hooking up with NYC...