BY KEITH EVANS
10:00am
Why Am I AWAKE!!!!!!!!!
10:46am
I need a cigarette
11:07am
In no particular, fap, text Mary, smoke, eat, watch American family with roomie, smoke, fap, cigarette, fap, smoke, shower.
3:42pm
I haven't had to feel nerves about a "first show" I was producing in a long time. It's sort of a big deal. Fuck it, producing my first showcase in Chicago IS a huge deal. Acting jaded is futile. Its not like producing a show in the Region. I've done 34 ANOCS as well as 15 or so other shows at different venues all over NW Indiana. Most solid. Some amazing. Some lackluster. But it's my hometown. A great hometown that supports me cuz of all the potential and other goo they see in my talents. This is the Chicago comedy scene. The cutthroat, rarely impressed, sometimes clique-y Chicago comedy scene. I have to measure up. My name is not as thrown around as I'd wish. Sometimes that makes me bitter. Not your average bitter comic bitter, but just a touch, for reasons not clear enough for me to whine, yet not vague enough to say i don't deserve a little more. This is important. I must measure up. Ugh. I don't WANT to be a comedy show producer though. I want to be a comic. Fuck. What jokes am I even doing tonight? Fuck. I just missed my stop.
4:03pm
If the Chicago "el" trains were a boy band, the purple line would be Lance Bass. It's so clean. Like... hospital clean.
5:51pm
After not knowing if this show was even going to happen until Tuesday, I feel simultaneously over AND underwhelmed. This bar is accommodating as fuck. This space is amazing. I'm now hit with the news that because of the clusterfuckery that was the Blackhawks game AND the original manager, who was my contact, walking out on the place, the pay I sequestered for my comics is up in the air. #2Stressed2BeBlessed. I need a fucking beer. Where's the sound guy? Where the FUCK is JAKE!
6:15pm
Jake's here.
7:03pm
The sound guy was suppose to be here minutes ago. I'm feeling panicky, but holding it in quite well. Wish I could do this when I felt panicky on trains. Lol, remember when Princess Ruru was doing that thing where comics performed on trains? What an adorably stupid idea. I should probably get that beer now. The server for the room is cute. Almost too cute. She looks like what that girl from Superbad looked like. You know, the one that threw up after trying to give Michael Cera a blowjay? Except for a lot thicker in the right places. She's got freckles too. All the cute ones that are very receptive are only so when you're already in love. Of course. Whatever.
7:49pm
The otherside of the bar is packing up. No one here for comedy yet.... Cue panic attack. This isn't measuring up. I can lean on the excuses of the bar not promoting and the other clusterfuckery, but in reality, I'm the producer. This is OUR show. It is my job to put the people in the seats. Fuck bringer show mentality. I don't expect Kristen Toomey or Martin Morrow to bring people. It's not what I booked them to do. That's always been my stance on that.
7:52pm
Martin Morrow just showed up....with our first two audience members. Clutch.
8:14pm
After waiting on the sound guy to setup, apparently for the Eagles or Journey at the United Center, it's time to start the show. This is pathetic. I'm not measuring up. The Indiana kid who at one time considered himself pretty deece at producing a show is seeing failure take a huge shit on his chest. Fuck it, just gonna open up with old shit. I can't compete with the DJ in the other room playing Chingy.
10:00pm
Wow. all the comics were solid. Tough crowd at first, which Toomey chipped away at, Scanlan seemed to have a oretty stellar and comfy set. Cece did pretty well, and stayed energetic when it wasn't going pretty well. Morrow did excellent, and also probably drew more people into the room with his stage presence alone. We went from 4 to 20 heads. It's shit, but it's progressive shit. And more importantly, this show was fun. The few that attended enjoyed the hell out of it, as did the comics. Due to the earlier circumstances, and no doubt our deceivingly professional demeanor, the bar has committed to a second month, in spite of the attendance, and honestly, at the end of the night, that's all you can ask for. This is comedy in Chicago, and I love it so dearly.
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