Date: 07 December 2012
Venue: Comedy Corner underground
Nothing new to report. Crowd was tired, but they enjoyed my set. The woman who I was on a date with thought I was funny. The rest of the date went well, too. I accidentally slid the bill from the bar down the length of the bar where it hit some glasses and fell into the bar sink. Oops.
I'm only a little peeved because I kept doing a lot of the same jokes as last time, and I want to do more jokes -- different jokes. I understand that there's a lot to be said for being comfortable on stage. However, given how rarely I actually perform because of my awful work schedule (seven days a week for the next 2 weeks?! what is wrong with me?), I want to try and vary my routine more. I want to actually try material I haven't tried before to see what it sounds like
Yes, this was exactly what lead to the times I bombed horribly. But it has to happen because I want to use more stuff. To actually demonstrate that I'm not beholden to just a few jokes. Here goes nothing.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Open Mic 42
Date: 23 November 2012
Venue: Corner Bar, Comedy Corner Underground
It's the morning after my first open mic in ages. My head hurts a little bit and I smell like cigarettes.
My god, it went well.
Why did I wait so long to do one of these?
I'm not going to get complacent, but I will try and make sure I record my set next week. It feels like the material is at the point where all it needs is a little tweak and polish here and there, and then it shall be great. And then you just repeat the process over and over.
Bring on next week!
Venue: Corner Bar, Comedy Corner Underground
It's the morning after my first open mic in ages. My head hurts a little bit and I smell like cigarettes.
My god, it went well.
Why did I wait so long to do one of these?
I'm not going to get complacent, but I will try and make sure I record my set next week. It feels like the material is at the point where all it needs is a little tweak and polish here and there, and then it shall be great. And then you just repeat the process over and over.
Bring on next week!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Bringer 4
Date: 30 April 2012
Venue: The C-Word show, Comedy Store Belly Room.
You ever forget what you were going to say? Did you ever forget who you are?
Well, the MC forgot my name introducing me. It was a teensy bit embarrassing for me, though I'm sure she was a lot more embarrassed. Then to make her feel better, I forgot part of my set. There was about 10 seconds of forgetting/riffing about forgetting but it felt like 30.
Banned from Pasadena follows tattoos, Nick. You'll never forget that again. Which is weird because that story really happened to me; it's a part of me. Can I really forget small parts of who I am? If that's true, could I forget large parts of my self?
This set went well, and I got the biggest laughs when I played more to appearance than to myself as a person. Me as a person is complex, but if I play to my appearance people seem to "get" it faster. They already made a few unconscious assumptions about who I am the moment they saw me, so reinforcing them builds upon a premise they already bought. It saves time, because I don't have to say a sentence describing who I appear to be, they can see it for themselves. It's a premise traveling at the speed of light, realized in a microsecond.
The experts will advise you to not fight that initial reaction. If you're a bald guy with tattoos, a goatee and an angry look, there's an uncomfortable disconnect if you tell jokes that better fit the point of view of a happy-go-lucky teenager. That's an act that doesn't work because it doesn't seem authentic.
Building on what people assume to be real, what they assume you're like, is a wind-aided sprint. It sounds authentic because it looks authentic, and so it feels authentic. And we laugh because we don't feel like we're being lied to. You become an archetype if this is done thoroughly, famous because that person on stage was so authentic for so long that that persona presented to the audience night after night is indelibly connected with a name and a face.
All my previous Bringers were when I was in a relationship. I had the MC introduce me in a fairly generic way, but made a point to make sure he or she ended the intro with "sorry ladies, he's taken." I walk on stage. Cue laughter. I am the first joke. Come on guys, don't you get it? It's funny because my outward appearance is not what society has deemed as highly sexually desirable, so the humorous reversal of expectation is that the statement only makes sense if meant ironically. Ha!
The set I performed that night produced in me a bittersweet feeling. Yes, I'm awkward, if you go back about three inches from my wrist I have actually nothing between skin and bone, and with my hair that's now curly and my glasses, I look a lot like Andy Dick. But stage me played up an aspect of sexual inexperience that one assumes comes along with that whole constellation of traits of appearance. I'm not going to say nothing could be farther from the truth; I'm leaving the facts private as they ought be.
As I may have mentioned in a previous post, this is why I don't use my real name on stage. Nick Klaus is a character; he's a mask, a prosthesis. Under that outward appearance lies a different animal. Not very different, but enough of a gap that you shouldn't confuse one with the other.
And I'm okay with that. Not because having people treat you differently because of snap judgments they've made about how you should be thought of, how you ought be treated, and essentially who you are is a good thing; I'm not content with that state of affairs at all. But this is a universal and unconscious human trait that cannot be eradicated, no matter how much we teach people to not judge books by their covers. Judging based on appearance is a constant in the same way that gravity is a constant, so I kind of have to be okay with it.
But there is another very valid reason to accept the snap judgments of others. I am okay with it because that's the only way to stop yourself from going crazy. I flat-out don't have the build to be a linebacker. I could exercise as much as I wanted, try out mercilessly and eat and eat and eat; that wouldn't make up the difference. I don't have the genetics in my family to be any more than 6'2" (And I'm not even that tall) and my frame is so small that I can't put on the extra 150 lbs without doing serious damage to my body. No matter how viciously this hypothetical me could have refused to accept the judgment of the world that he would never be a linebacker, this was never a goal hypothetical me could have reached.
On the other hand, I have the build perfect for a long-distance runner; especially the 'doesn't weigh that much' part. Working with what I had, and starting from literally not running in years, I was ready to tackle a half marathon after a mere two weeks of training. And while 'become a good long-distance runner' was never anywhere near the top of my list of things I wanted for myself, the accomplishment still feels pretty badass. And even if what you're feeling good about isn't even relevant to your self-concept, you're still feeling good.
There is a very important however to this whole argument, a clause where this prejudgment can reverse itself, both comedically and in the real world. It's not perfect, and it's not the silver bullet or magic phrase that automatically gets you what you want. In doing this, you cease being a photograph, and instead become a mirror. This is an incredibly obtuse start, bear with me for a second.
One of the best sets I've seen came from a comic named Kurt. He's a large, bald man with a goatee. Contrary to appearance, he's a very nice guy. And he has a killer bit about how he's a nice guy. But he's not fighting the appearance because the first thing he does in the bit is recognize what people see him as. And the rest of the set is about how ridiculous it is that people treat him like someone kicked out of Hells Angels for being too rough, and the even more ridiculous actions he has to get around that prejudice.
Instead of being what the audience thinks he is (the photograph) he's turning the focus of behavior back on the audience (the mirror). 'This is how you treat someone like me' still keeps the premise the audience had unconsciously accepted, but it's focused on the humor of the way that accepting the premise makes them feel and behave. It says 'look at yourselves; be aware of the response you have to my outward appearance'.
The act of recognition is why we're not locked into an identity like something from The Prestige, forever trapped in a charade that is its own existential terror. Well okay life is a little like being trapped in an existential terror, but it's not that bad. A lot of the pain I went through in my teenage years could have been solved by recognizing the things people saw in me that I denied were there: things ranging from "you look depressed all the time" to "your acne medication isn't working" to "dude, you should not wear a size large t-shirt. For reals."
It's not perfect. Recognition about the things one has no control over forces us to accept that there is something that we cannot get, and that we have to learn to be okay with that. And that's not a pleasant process to go through. Thankfully, recognition about the things one can change brings with it the hope that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that mask can come off.
The bittersweet feeling that doing this set produced in me comes from embracing and emphasizing something that for years was something I hated about myself. Even now that the facts have changed, I'm essentially emasculating myself on stage and reinforcing that outward appearance that I've tried so hard to shake off. The mask is coming back on, thicker than before. And Nick Klaus is getting even Nick Klausier. There's no doubt in my mind or the mind of the audience that Nick Klaus is single.
Nick Muellerleile is also single, ladies.
Venue: The C-Word show, Comedy Store Belly Room.
You ever forget what you were going to say? Did you ever forget who you are?
Well, the MC forgot my name introducing me. It was a teensy bit embarrassing for me, though I'm sure she was a lot more embarrassed. Then to make her feel better, I forgot part of my set. There was about 10 seconds of forgetting/riffing about forgetting but it felt like 30.
Banned from Pasadena follows tattoos, Nick. You'll never forget that again. Which is weird because that story really happened to me; it's a part of me. Can I really forget small parts of who I am? If that's true, could I forget large parts of my self?
This set went well, and I got the biggest laughs when I played more to appearance than to myself as a person. Me as a person is complex, but if I play to my appearance people seem to "get" it faster. They already made a few unconscious assumptions about who I am the moment they saw me, so reinforcing them builds upon a premise they already bought. It saves time, because I don't have to say a sentence describing who I appear to be, they can see it for themselves. It's a premise traveling at the speed of light, realized in a microsecond.
The experts will advise you to not fight that initial reaction. If you're a bald guy with tattoos, a goatee and an angry look, there's an uncomfortable disconnect if you tell jokes that better fit the point of view of a happy-go-lucky teenager. That's an act that doesn't work because it doesn't seem authentic.
Building on what people assume to be real, what they assume you're like, is a wind-aided sprint. It sounds authentic because it looks authentic, and so it feels authentic. And we laugh because we don't feel like we're being lied to. You become an archetype if this is done thoroughly, famous because that person on stage was so authentic for so long that that persona presented to the audience night after night is indelibly connected with a name and a face.
All my previous Bringers were when I was in a relationship. I had the MC introduce me in a fairly generic way, but made a point to make sure he or she ended the intro with "sorry ladies, he's taken." I walk on stage. Cue laughter. I am the first joke. Come on guys, don't you get it? It's funny because my outward appearance is not what society has deemed as highly sexually desirable, so the humorous reversal of expectation is that the statement only makes sense if meant ironically. Ha!
The set I performed that night produced in me a bittersweet feeling. Yes, I'm awkward, if you go back about three inches from my wrist I have actually nothing between skin and bone, and with my hair that's now curly and my glasses, I look a lot like Andy Dick. But stage me played up an aspect of sexual inexperience that one assumes comes along with that whole constellation of traits of appearance. I'm not going to say nothing could be farther from the truth; I'm leaving the facts private as they ought be.
As I may have mentioned in a previous post, this is why I don't use my real name on stage. Nick Klaus is a character; he's a mask, a prosthesis. Under that outward appearance lies a different animal. Not very different, but enough of a gap that you shouldn't confuse one with the other.
And I'm okay with that. Not because having people treat you differently because of snap judgments they've made about how you should be thought of, how you ought be treated, and essentially who you are is a good thing; I'm not content with that state of affairs at all. But this is a universal and unconscious human trait that cannot be eradicated, no matter how much we teach people to not judge books by their covers. Judging based on appearance is a constant in the same way that gravity is a constant, so I kind of have to be okay with it.
But there is another very valid reason to accept the snap judgments of others. I am okay with it because that's the only way to stop yourself from going crazy. I flat-out don't have the build to be a linebacker. I could exercise as much as I wanted, try out mercilessly and eat and eat and eat; that wouldn't make up the difference. I don't have the genetics in my family to be any more than 6'2" (And I'm not even that tall) and my frame is so small that I can't put on the extra 150 lbs without doing serious damage to my body. No matter how viciously this hypothetical me could have refused to accept the judgment of the world that he would never be a linebacker, this was never a goal hypothetical me could have reached.
On the other hand, I have the build perfect for a long-distance runner; especially the 'doesn't weigh that much' part. Working with what I had, and starting from literally not running in years, I was ready to tackle a half marathon after a mere two weeks of training. And while 'become a good long-distance runner' was never anywhere near the top of my list of things I wanted for myself, the accomplishment still feels pretty badass. And even if what you're feeling good about isn't even relevant to your self-concept, you're still feeling good.
There is a very important however to this whole argument, a clause where this prejudgment can reverse itself, both comedically and in the real world. It's not perfect, and it's not the silver bullet or magic phrase that automatically gets you what you want. In doing this, you cease being a photograph, and instead become a mirror. This is an incredibly obtuse start, bear with me for a second.
One of the best sets I've seen came from a comic named Kurt. He's a large, bald man with a goatee. Contrary to appearance, he's a very nice guy. And he has a killer bit about how he's a nice guy. But he's not fighting the appearance because the first thing he does in the bit is recognize what people see him as. And the rest of the set is about how ridiculous it is that people treat him like someone kicked out of Hells Angels for being too rough, and the even more ridiculous actions he has to get around that prejudice.
Instead of being what the audience thinks he is (the photograph) he's turning the focus of behavior back on the audience (the mirror). 'This is how you treat someone like me' still keeps the premise the audience had unconsciously accepted, but it's focused on the humor of the way that accepting the premise makes them feel and behave. It says 'look at yourselves; be aware of the response you have to my outward appearance'.
The act of recognition is why we're not locked into an identity like something from The Prestige, forever trapped in a charade that is its own existential terror. Well okay life is a little like being trapped in an existential terror, but it's not that bad. A lot of the pain I went through in my teenage years could have been solved by recognizing the things people saw in me that I denied were there: things ranging from "you look depressed all the time" to "your acne medication isn't working" to "dude, you should not wear a size large t-shirt. For reals."
It's not perfect. Recognition about the things one has no control over forces us to accept that there is something that we cannot get, and that we have to learn to be okay with that. And that's not a pleasant process to go through. Thankfully, recognition about the things one can change brings with it the hope that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that mask can come off.
The bittersweet feeling that doing this set produced in me comes from embracing and emphasizing something that for years was something I hated about myself. Even now that the facts have changed, I'm essentially emasculating myself on stage and reinforcing that outward appearance that I've tried so hard to shake off. The mask is coming back on, thicker than before. And Nick Klaus is getting even Nick Klausier. There's no doubt in my mind or the mind of the audience that Nick Klaus is single.
Nick Muellerleile is also single, ladies.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
open mic 41
Date: 21 April 2012
Venue: The Spot Cafe.
An experiment.
hypothesis: if I read this unintentionally disturbing kids book, it will be funny.
methods: reading the book in front of this audience
results: not a lot of laughter
analysis and conclusion:
I really wanted to see what would happen. And in my defense, the first two things I said (which weren't related to the book at all) killed. Explosive amounts of laughter. Could I have just went with that energy and saw where it went? Maybe. And that, too would have been an experiment of just straight up winging it.
But there's a method to my madness. And I realize that I could re-conceptualize it, and make it work. And I have reconceptualized it. But I'm not going to debut the revamp of this for another month. Give it time to percolate.
But those first two lines, man. God damn I can be a funny man.
Venue: The Spot Cafe.
An experiment.
hypothesis: if I read this unintentionally disturbing kids book, it will be funny.
methods: reading the book in front of this audience
results: not a lot of laughter
analysis and conclusion:
I really wanted to see what would happen. And in my defense, the first two things I said (which weren't related to the book at all) killed. Explosive amounts of laughter. Could I have just went with that energy and saw where it went? Maybe. And that, too would have been an experiment of just straight up winging it.
But there's a method to my madness. And I realize that I could re-conceptualize it, and make it work. And I have reconceptualized it. But I'm not going to debut the revamp of this for another month. Give it time to percolate.
But those first two lines, man. God damn I can be a funny man.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Open Mic 40
Date 18 April 2012
Venue: The Hollywood hotel
Momentum.
An object in motion will stay in motion. This is true both in terms of the laws of physics as well as the nature of human psychodynamics. In motion; active, it's easier to keep on going. Even that downward spiral of situations that turn out for the worst produces some definite action. The drive to change course, to try new and daring things. Or the panic that sets in, and the need to do something, anything, just to maintain an even keel. Those two desires are not so far apart.
At rest, objects will stay at rest. The momentum is gone. And this is what happened to me - or rather, this is what I did to myself.
I will be candid about the last 7 months. I feel the need to be open and honest because this blog is about progress. And it is about regress just as much. And for better or for worse, this is a path that simply can't just... end. I feel this blog can't be complete without culminating in an accomplishment, or resulting in an open letter of resignation. My fate is not tied in with my ability to successfully accomplish one goal of many I have for myself. But those things that make me human, my weaknesses and the situations which are thrust upon me and the situations into which I thrust myself, those are things that do matter.
I didn't do much the last 3 months of 2011.
I quit my job, hoping that I would find work doing something that I actually enjoyed. Something where I would have clear objectives and be earning a liveable wage. Or even just the minimum wage. Or even just the $40 a day I needed to stay afloat, to cover all my expenses and have some money leftover for food.
I didn't find that job.
What I did find was that the unpaid internship existed; that undignifying role where you become a tool to be discarded after 3 to 6 months, surviving on that hope that one day you and the hard work that you do will be good enough to actually merit earning a wage. It's insulting, it's exploitative, and I fully believe it is killing the economy almost as quickly as it was killing my hope of bettering myself.
What I also found was that as a freelance production assistant, I had the potential to earn in a weekend far more than my old 'job' paid me in a week. But working only on the weekends, and not even every weekend at that left me with a lot of free time. Or rather, unoccupied time. Time to wish I could justify doing the things I wanted to do. I couldn't. So I didn't.
I would spend days in bed, watching TV. Sometimes I ate. Usually I didn't. Usually, I would sleep until late afternoon and stay up until the sun was about to rise. Objects at rest stay at rest. And stay and stay and stay.
It wasn't until January that I was able to break out of this funk. I had a temporary job where I was promised the possibility of more work, but more importantly I was promised an occasional $10 or $20 every now and then.
It was just enough to get me moving again. Slowly, I would build up the drive to go out and do more things. Opportunities appeared that promised to get me doing the things I loved doing, or failing that, possibly bring me serious money. I never quite got there, but I could at least go from option to option. Each new possibility on the horizon bringing with it the chance that this would be the one.
Oh yeah, the funny parts. That's why you're here.
As long as I had the feeling that my life in general was going places, I thought that I could at least try and apply that energy towards standup as well. So I made a call to a friend at the Comedy Store.
"Book me on the 30th"
With motion comes energy to try new things. Or in my place "ohgodohgodohgod that's in two weeks, what do I do what should I say on stage am I still funny ohgodohgodohgod" Again, the motivations are not too dissimilar. And I started again, with the open mic.
It went alright. Compared with the absolute shock I felt at open mic #1 in this series, this was more like a reminder what the baseline actually is in Los Angeles. The audience was tired, and I was still feeling things out. Old material got the best reaction I could hope for, new material shows some promise. I can always fall back on what I was doing seven months ago, which is probably what I should be doing anyways.
I don't know where I'm going. I don't know whether this will lead me towards success or towards deciding to go try other endeavors.
But I'm in motion.
Venue: The Hollywood hotel
Momentum.
An object in motion will stay in motion. This is true both in terms of the laws of physics as well as the nature of human psychodynamics. In motion; active, it's easier to keep on going. Even that downward spiral of situations that turn out for the worst produces some definite action. The drive to change course, to try new and daring things. Or the panic that sets in, and the need to do something, anything, just to maintain an even keel. Those two desires are not so far apart.
At rest, objects will stay at rest. The momentum is gone. And this is what happened to me - or rather, this is what I did to myself.
I will be candid about the last 7 months. I feel the need to be open and honest because this blog is about progress. And it is about regress just as much. And for better or for worse, this is a path that simply can't just... end. I feel this blog can't be complete without culminating in an accomplishment, or resulting in an open letter of resignation. My fate is not tied in with my ability to successfully accomplish one goal of many I have for myself. But those things that make me human, my weaknesses and the situations which are thrust upon me and the situations into which I thrust myself, those are things that do matter.
I didn't do much the last 3 months of 2011.
I quit my job, hoping that I would find work doing something that I actually enjoyed. Something where I would have clear objectives and be earning a liveable wage. Or even just the minimum wage. Or even just the $40 a day I needed to stay afloat, to cover all my expenses and have some money leftover for food.
I didn't find that job.
What I did find was that the unpaid internship existed; that undignifying role where you become a tool to be discarded after 3 to 6 months, surviving on that hope that one day you and the hard work that you do will be good enough to actually merit earning a wage. It's insulting, it's exploitative, and I fully believe it is killing the economy almost as quickly as it was killing my hope of bettering myself.
What I also found was that as a freelance production assistant, I had the potential to earn in a weekend far more than my old 'job' paid me in a week. But working only on the weekends, and not even every weekend at that left me with a lot of free time. Or rather, unoccupied time. Time to wish I could justify doing the things I wanted to do. I couldn't. So I didn't.
I would spend days in bed, watching TV. Sometimes I ate. Usually I didn't. Usually, I would sleep until late afternoon and stay up until the sun was about to rise. Objects at rest stay at rest. And stay and stay and stay.
It wasn't until January that I was able to break out of this funk. I had a temporary job where I was promised the possibility of more work, but more importantly I was promised an occasional $10 or $20 every now and then.
It was just enough to get me moving again. Slowly, I would build up the drive to go out and do more things. Opportunities appeared that promised to get me doing the things I loved doing, or failing that, possibly bring me serious money. I never quite got there, but I could at least go from option to option. Each new possibility on the horizon bringing with it the chance that this would be the one.
Oh yeah, the funny parts. That's why you're here.
As long as I had the feeling that my life in general was going places, I thought that I could at least try and apply that energy towards standup as well. So I made a call to a friend at the Comedy Store.
"Book me on the 30th"
With motion comes energy to try new things. Or in my place "ohgodohgodohgod that's in two weeks, what do I do what should I say on stage am I still funny ohgodohgodohgod" Again, the motivations are not too dissimilar. And I started again, with the open mic.
It went alright. Compared with the absolute shock I felt at open mic #1 in this series, this was more like a reminder what the baseline actually is in Los Angeles. The audience was tired, and I was still feeling things out. Old material got the best reaction I could hope for, new material shows some promise. I can always fall back on what I was doing seven months ago, which is probably what I should be doing anyways.
I don't know where I'm going. I don't know whether this will lead me towards success or towards deciding to go try other endeavors.
But I'm in motion.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Open Mic 39
Date 15 September 2011
Venue: The Joke Gym (Viva Zapata restaurant, Arcadia)
I only signed up because they were offering guaranteed slots to the first 11 people to comment. That and it had been the tail end of a rough week and I needed to get out and laugh. Good thing that I went out there.
Apparently my first time was with a smaller than usual crowd in attendance. The good news was that that gave me 6 minutes instead of 5. And really, that was right about the tipping point for a good open mic. The crowd was really supportive of everybody, but having more people show up would have been even better. I would not have traded a smaller attendance for 7 minutes. You get the feeling that when this place is full, that it's a sweet sweet place to be.
I did a lot of the front half of my set, and near the end I talked about my reasons for leaving my job. The first half felt a little performance-y, but at the end it was more like me being me talking to a room full of comics about why I wanted to pursue my passions. Maybe I am making the right choice.
Bringer 2
Date: 7 September 2011
Venue: The Comedy Store Belly Room
Vargus Mason puts on this show and there's a lot to like. It's high energy, there's loads of talent and you get your money's worth because people keep getting added to the list. That's the only gripe I have with the show, and that's only because I have to bring friends who still have homework to do in the evenings. I feel guilty about making friends stay out later than I'd told them they would be staying.
The performance went well, but I did something I wish I hadn't. I practiced for 7 minutes worth of stage time, only to learn that we had 8. A whole extra minute. A whole extra minute that I didn't actually have solid material for.
did you just wing it?
umm... maybe?
I have a sort of reserve of material that people have liked. It's less structured and less well-integrated. Some of it is things I haven't even officially told to an audience. Untested, unprepared and thrown together? Wasn't this the exact thing I wanted to avoid? This has all the hallmarks of going bad quickly.
The fact that the jokes went over well by no means suggests that I was right to perform untested material. It wasn't the right call. I'm going to have to make sure I don't do it again, because it's going to land me right back at the place I wanted to avoid. The place where overconfidence runs right into deep disappointment.
The whole set felt solid with the exception of an allusion between Pasadena and the East German secret police. It helped that I had 6 people in the front row who were there to see me. It also helped that the room was very full. This is the kind of room I want to play to a lot more.
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