Blackout: A Farewell to Comedy

About 10 years ago, I began my comedy career training with The Other Side in Wilmington, NC. I learned the basics of improv comedy, and I figured out how to use my talents for making others laugh even more to my advantage. The feeling was addicting, and I wanted more. The instant gratification of saying something in front of a room full of people and having the place erupt into laughter was a rush for me.

The Other Side became my entire life. I waited tables to pay the bills and keep my liver pickled, but who wants to be a career waiter? Not me. I wanted to take my comedy career above and beyond what I was getting in Wilmington. That's not to say that I didn't love every minute of being on stage and playing with people whom I adored as friends and equals. I did. I relished in it. I met some of my best friends in the world during that time. But I needed more. I needed to prove to myself that I could "make it."

So I did what anyone did who wanted to "make it" in comedy: I moved to Chicago. At the time, Chicago was comedy Mecca. It's where you went when you wanted to learn. To make a name and a face for yourself. To experience the best shows in the world and hobknob with the best in the biz. To stand on the stage where Del Close once yelled at his classes and made magicians or failures out of them. I enrolled in classes at iO and went to shows all the time. I met people who were extremely kind and talented, and I met a lot of assholes, too. (The week I moved up to Chicago, I went with my roommate to a party where I was asked by this one asshole: So what are you doing here in Chicago? to which I replied Oh, comedy. Improv, you know. and was met with the response: Great. That's exactly what Chicago needs is another fucking improvisor.) Well, that didn't seem to stop me because I kept going. I played with an indie team with my classmates and on a team at The Playground (which is still around, I understand.) Improv was, again, my life. I waited tables and worked temp jobs in offices around Chicago, and I hated everything except for the time I'd get to spend with my friends and on stage or watching shows. So many shows. So many wonderful shows. But. So. Much. Crap.

The shows I saw made me furious because I knew I was better than many of the performers, but I wasn't getting a chance to play on the big stage. So after about a year of that, I did what any frustrated Chicago performer does. I moved away.

I had the opportunity to move back to NC, where I'd have the chance to perform again with a group of people whom I'd known and who I respected. I was welcomed back to NC with a new job, a great girl, and a new chance to show off what I'd learned in my time in the Windy City.

I moved in with a group of guys who were all very amazing players and even more amazing friends, and I had the time of my life. I started doing shows weekly, sometimes multiple nights, and I taught classes and again, surrounded my life with comedy and comedians. I traveled to other cities and brought the house down. I helped produce a festival. I felt respected and appreciated as a teacher and a leader, and it felt very good. Then things started falling apart. My friends started moving away to find whatever it was they were looking for, and I got cocky and bitter. Then the girl I loved moved away and I was heartbroken. I was sad and angry and I noticed I carried that on stage with me. My own performances felt phoned in, and I felt it affected others, too. So I did what I felt I needed to do. Something I hadn't done since I had started comedy. I took a break.

The break lasted about 3 months or so before I felt better, I felt like I needed that outlet in my life because it had always brought me so much joy. I missed it. I missed that instant gratification. So, I tried to come back and pick up where I had left off. Only it wasn't that easy. Because of the management of the theater where I had been performing, I was not welcomed back in the capacity which I had left. I was not allowed to perform or teach, and barely allowed to practice. I figured it would be an opportunity for me to push myself and try harder. See if this was what I wanted. But the harder I worked, and the harder I pushed, the more resistance I was met with. The director resented me, and didn't want me to succeed because he no longer trusted me. So I left that theater. It wasn't worth it to fight so hard to be in a community that had turned its back on me.

I enrolled in a class in Raleigh, and it was nice to get a fresh perspective. But my experience limited me more than it helped me. I understood all of the exercises because I had taught them before. It was like someone trying to tell you how to do a magic trick when its something you've known how to do for years. I couldn't learn any more tricks. Nonetheless, I found some more friends whom I enjoyed playing with, and we started a team. We played a few shows and practiced weekly, and yes, it was lots of fun. But fun wasn't cutting it. I felt like I was just doing it because that's what I do. But it got
easy again.


Around that time I heard news that my old friends from Wilmington were planning a reunion show, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. The show was fun, and it was wonderful to see my friends and perform with them again, but I knew that this was significant. It needed to end where it began.

If there was anything I did learn from comedy, specifically improv (and all in all, yes, I learned quite a bit) its that the end is in the beginning. Things have to come full circle in order to feel complete, and that show was significant in that way. I did do a couple of shows and a couple of practices after that, but for me, the TOS reunion show was the end of my comedy career.

Will I do shows again? Probably. (I'm very good, you see.) Did I make it? I never made much money from it, but I did get a lot of experience and I learned so, so many wonderful things about myself in the process. So in that way, yes, I definitely made it. Did I get famous? Absolutely not. But the thing I loved about it most was meeting the people I met as a result. Some of my best friends are still going at it, and I wish them the best of luck. I know I have some true friends out there who will ALWAYS be my friends, and I probably would have never met them if comedy hadn't been such a huge part of my life.

So thank you friends, teachers, fellow performers, and influences. I appreciate everything you've done for me over the past decade, but it's time for me to hang up my "comedian" hat for a while. Maybe some day, when I'm older and grayer, we'll do this again. Until then...

BLACKOUT

-Jeremy S. Griffin

I'm not even going to try...

to sum up DSIF8, so I'll let the other media available do it for me.

Check out the Tumblr blog here.

And some awesome pictures here.

It was great to see everyone. Great festival.


Cast of the festival Bat: (counterclockwise) myself, Jane Borden, Zach Ward, Douglas Sarine, Jeff Griggs, Rene Duquesnoy, Kevin Patrick Robbins, Dan Izzo, Mark Sutton, and Joe Bill


AskaANinja.com's Douglas Sarine & Some Jerk


MC Chris is my homeboy.

You see 'em drop like flies from the bright sunny skies / They come knocking at your door with this look in their eyes

Whew. It's been a while since I've posted, but man, I have been a busy dude. Cajones went to Atlanta for the Black Box Improv Festival last weekend, and this most recent weekend was 24-Live, so its been real improv-y lately. Here is a quick recap of Atlanta:

Zach and I arrived late afternoon on Saturday, and relaxed after our 6 hour road trip. Zach crashed for a while, but I wanted to get out and walk around. The picture you see above is one of the only ones I took of anything in the city, but I guess there wasn't that much I deemed photo-worthy. Oh well. It's a sculpture, you know.

We met up with the very wonderful Asaf R. and Jill B. for dinner at a place called Luckie that had no idea what it was supposed to be. (They had football on the flatscreens, blinking lights, and a general store. The waiters dressed like cops, and ours tried to sell me a car.) Tha sinks were cool, though.



We went to the theater and caught some great shows, including Jill's Drum Machine which was a great one woman musical, and it was very hilarious. Also, Josh and Tamra, of puppet-prov fame, put on a fantastic show that I guarantee is awesome every time. Here's a pic of the stand out character, Baby Jessica. She is retarded.



The headliner was 3 For All, who put on one of the best shows I've ever seen. It was nothing short of amazing. Afterwards, we went to a fratty theater party. (It's funny how those things end up being contradictory, but ultimately very similar. Hm.) I tried to get drunk, to no avail, so we left to go eat some time around 3. This is Jill after the party.



We went to eat at a place called the "shitty Cafe" from now on, because they were out of everything from jalepeno poppers to waffles to milkshakes to good food. I got chicken fingas and fries because I am so sure that they could not screw THAT up. According to our waitress, the restaurant was suffering from "frugal management." Here she is with Asaf, right before she told him he looked like "that dude from Mrs. Doubtfire" (aka Harvey Firestein-- you be the judge!).



The next day, Zach had a workshop so I went to the aquarium (instead of the coke museum, though I was very tempted to go in just to taste the cokes from around the world). Here are some of the photos from the aquarium.


These are pirranahs, which apparently don't "eat people." I am saying that's bullshit!


These are some giant Japanese Spider Crabs. Reminds me of my freshman year of college. (Whhhhoooo--oooaaaahhhh!)


This is a friendly looking Beluga Whale, who would probably fuck your sister if he had the chance.


This is a giant Grouper, who is also known as the "Douchebag of the Sea."


Tragically, I fell into one of the tanks. Here I am at the bottom, clinging to my last breath.


Luckily, this whale shark saved me. Apparently, they can grow to be about 60-feet long, but that's like seeing a 7-foot-tall guy. Not common, but it happens. Their throats are an inch around, but if they ram you, its like getting hit by a truck. Underwater.


Here is the same tank from the outside. It's the biggest tank in the world, and the glass is 2 feet thick. For perspective, those people are all 7-feet tall.


This is a jelly. Not a jellyfish. Since its not a fish. The Atlanta aquarium is all about dispelling vicious rumors about the undersea kingdom.


This is a stringray that I fingered lightly on its back.


These two horseshoe crabs had some sex in the touch tank. Children watched and cheered them on.


This Sea Turtle was also rooting them on.


These little eels buried themselves in the ground and were pretty transfixed with something to our left. I think Kid Nation was on.


Another Jelly. This one was Boysenberry.


All the kids saw these fish and started yelling "Dory! Dory!" Somewhere, Ellen Degeneres was scissoring Portia DeRossi on a pile of money.

Later, we went to the Center for Puppetry Arts where they had this great Q&A with the Henson people, and they had some great puppets on display. Here is Dr. Teeth.




Zach and I had our picture made with Ernie and Bert.

Later, we got some great food and a nice chat. One of the better man-dates I've been on. We had our show and it went pretty well. I'd give it a solid B. Hung out at a wanna-be dive bar in a strip mall, and later at a very hip bar in Decatur. Atlanta was much fun, and the trip back was virtually painless.

Will update soon about 24-Live and other musings...