I’m a stand up comic and I always sit and slouch, and I got my girlfriend pregnant on my sterile uncles pull-out couch.
I do think that stand-up comedy in general heavily favors masculinity and so I like to act a little feminine onstage.
I’d really love to make something that doesn’t involve my stupid face.
Comedy should be a source of positivity. I don’t want to bully people, and I don’t want people to come to my show to feel terrible about something. I’m actually very open to having a conversation about what I should or shouldn’t say.
I just like to write and then perform.
I thought I wanted to be a physicist in high school until I learned that there was much more math than philosophy in it. I assumed I would just sit around all day and think.
Postmodern comedy doesn’t work well with very old audiences, because it’s making fun of the comedy they enjoy.
I think comedy has a range, with multiple peaks in different areas. It’s like trying to compare Beethoven and the Beatles. Sometimes I hear from people, ‘I think you try too hard in your comedy.’ And that’s what I worry about.
Ya back home they call me the tie-dye shirt kid, well that and fagot.
I work really hard on the shows and I think the shows speak for themselves. I don’t want to construct the show to prove something.
The Squares The Squares lived happily, in their square houses, in their square yards, in their square town. One day, a family of Circles moved in from the west. “Get out of here, roundies!” shouted one of the Squares. “Why?” asked one of the Circles. “Because this is a metaphor for racism!
You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.
When I walk into a room, you’d think I was one of those long, straight Tetris pieces because everyone’s just like, “Oh great, you’re here! We’ve been waiting for you to show up.
You argue and you bicker and you fight... Atheists and Catholics, Jews and Hindus argue day and night... over what they think is true... but no one entertains the thought that maybe God does not believe in you.
Being self-aware about doing something you hate doesn’t save you from the act.
When life gives you lemons, you probably just found lemons.
Onion You had many layers like an onion. Wait, no, like an artichoke – with your layers arranged like snake scales, not stacked like coats of paint. Be sure to call in a year or so and tell me whether I was lifting heavy stones off your bunker door or plucking petals off your face.
The influx of suited men on the airport’s moving walkway transformed it into a conveyor belt.
Take a deep breath and give up.
In their vlogs, these kids were embodying the very truth that I as a writer am often desperate to deny: that our words fail us. They fail us brutally. The gap between the experience in our head and the articulation of that experience in our words is vast and disappointing.