The Life Cleanse

How long till my soul gets it right?

Can any human being ever reach that kind of light?

I call on the resting soul of Galileo

King of night vision, king of insight.

--The Indigo Girls

Kids, it's time for some changes. The definition of crazy is doing the same thing and over and over and expecting a different result, so goes the old adage. (It's often attributed to Einstein, though other sources claim Ben Franklin said it, while still others credit the quotation to Alcoholics Anonymous.) In any case, if the statement is true, I've been crazy for approximately the past two years. Or roughly since moving back from San Diego.

Since then, I've been working at the same dead-end (albeit not unpleasant) full-time day job, making slightly less money than I need to pay my basic expenses. (My extremely generous parents have been making up the difference.) I've been doing a tiny amount of comedy -- an average of about once a week, contrasted pitifully to the three or four times I was getting up weekly before I left New York in 2008. I've been working out, but not enough. I've barely dated, opting instead to have meaningless encounters with people I either don't know or don't care about (or both). And worst of all, I've spent countless -- and I do mean countless - hours, alone in my apartment, staring at the television set.

And where, midway through my 40th year on earth, has all of this gotten me?

1) I am single.

2) I am 10 lbs heavier than I want to be.

3) I am making less money that I need to be. (See above.)

4) I am bored.

5) I am lonely.

6) My comedy career, such that it was, has all but slipped away.

Honestly, it has. I still feel as funny as I ever did. In fact, some of the recent shows I've done -- especially the headlining hour I did at GNI this summer -- have, I think, reflected my best writing and performing to date. But before I moved to San Diego, it felt like things were really starting to happen for me. I had just appeared on "Last Comic Standing." I was hosting a very popular and high-profile weekly show. I was getting regular bookings around New York and elsewhere. 

And then it all ended.

And yes, that's what often happens when you move across the country to a small city without much of a comedy scene. But I've been back in New York now since January, 2010. I can only use the San Diego excuse for so long before it becomes just that -- an excuse.

The truth is, this is how show business works. You're hot for a little while, and then you're not. And that's as true for A-List movie stars as it is for no-name people like me who are on the lowest rung of the business. And when you're down, getting back up again can often feel the same as starting from scratch. It's as if the last eight years I've been working in stand-up never happened. 

Which is weird and confusing, because you'd think all the contacts I've made and all the work I've done and all the comics I've helped (and booked) when they needed it would reach out and help me now that I need it. But they don't. That's not how this business works. For one thing, nobody in show business is ever thinking about anybody but themselves. And for another, people only want to reach out to you when you're hot and don't actually need their help. This is the same paradoxical principle that assures that the richest celebrities in Hollywood are the ones who never have to pay for anything. 

At the end of the day, you have to make it happen yourself. By yourself. Without any help from anyone.

This all came into hideous focus for me a month ago, when I was interviewing for a new day job. (I can blog about this, because my current employer knew I was interviewing elsewhere and in fact sanctioned it. If you knew what kind of company I worked for, this would make sense to you.)

The new job would have been working for a hedge fund. The fund was looking to fill an administrative position similar to the ones I've held since 2003. The position would have paid a lot more than I'm making now, and the company said it was looking for artistic, out-of-the-box types. (They actually gave "comedian" as an example of the kind of person they were seeking.) 

I met initially with some of the folks I'd be supervising, and they all said they loved me (and indeed recommended me strongly to upper management). But when I went back for the second interview, the two executives with whom I met grilled me endlessly about the fact that I had this outside comedy career. (I know -- why did they advertise for a comedian if they didn't want someone with an outside comedy career?)

The conversation went something like this:

Executive: I've gone online and looked at your web site and your videos and your blogs. You're very successful.

Me: I'm really not.

Executive: Well, it seems to me like you are. You've done a lot of big things.

Me: Not in the last three years, I haven't.

Executive: How do we know you're not going to be whisked away to L.A. for the next pilot season?

Me: Because it's never happened. Nobody in L.A. knows who I am.

Executive: Well, we need someone who's going to commit to this job.

Me: I spent five years at The New York Times, during which I was doing a lot more comedy than I am now. I never missed a single day of work that wasn't part of my regularly scheduled vacation.

And so on and so on.

In the end, I didn't get the job. The feedback was that everyone liked me and thought I was more than qualified, but that they regarded me as a "flight risk" due to my show-biz career. 

This is the terrible irony: I'm too successful for a day job and not successful enough to quit my day job.

People ask: Why don't you just do comedy full-time? Because I can't. Not until and unless I find some kind of regular comedy gig that provides steady and significant income. I have a mortgage. And I need health insurance. (Trust me on this; I do.) And comedians don't make a living wage unless they either get regular TV and film work (which is tantamount to winning the lottery) or go on the road for 300 nights a year. I have never wanted that life. It's lonely and miserable and tolerable only for schizoid personality types or people in their 20s (or both).

So where does that leave me? I don't know. I don't have any answers right now. But I do know that I can no longer keep doing the same thing and over and over and expect a different result. And so, for the next 30 days, I am embarking on what I'm calling the Life Cleanse.

It consists of the following:

1) At least one hour of exercise every day. Either at the gym, in my apartment or outside.

2) No more crap food. This includes but is not limited to all sweets, simple carbs and cold sesame noodles from the Chinese restaurant. 

3) No alcohol or other recreational substances. (Not that I would ever use those, Mom.)

4) No smoking cigarettes. (I'm not a heavy smoker and never have been, but I do tend to have a cig or two when I'm out socializing at night and before and after a comedy show.)

5) At least one hour of writing every day. This can be in the form of joke-writing, blogging or working on other creative endeavors -- e.g. writing a play or book -- but can NOT include posting on Twitter or Facebook, to which I am hopelessly addicted.

6) No sex. Unless it's with someone with whom I've gone on actual date.

And finally, the toughest of all for me:

7) No more than one hour of television a day. The only exception will be if I'm watching a movie that runs over one hour, and it must be a movie I've never seen before. No more reruns. Not even (gulp) "Sex and the City."

I don't expect that following this regimen will magically transform me. Like I'll do it and then exactly 30 days from now I'll be cast in my own NBC sitcom. But at least it will force me out of my pointless routine. More importantly, it will force me to examine who I am, what I want, and how I might be able to make it happen.

At the very least... it can't hurt.

To be continued.

Homo cleansing. ♥ 
_____________________________________________
I'll be headlining Therapy this Sunday, Oct. 9 at 10PM.


And check me out the following night at this fun show at Gotham Comedy Club.