Filtering by Tag: standupblog

Always Bombing

I can’t believe it. The pain finally subsided. That was rough man. I have to get a tooth extracted after the holidays and that’s not even the one that just tortured me for the last hour. Turning screws into my gums, I just wanted to enjoy a slider from work! Who eats while they’re in pain, that’s no fun.

It made me wish I was bombing on stage. That kind of pain is ok. I can deal with an audience staring at me during one of my confusing act-outs with maximum levels of flailing. But I can’t block out the pain of tooth #3.

A picture of my jacked up tooth.

A picture of my jacked up tooth.

I can fix the teeth. I can fix my reputation. I can’t fix that joke. Time to extract it.

Bombing in the moment, it feels like it’s all over and I let everybody down. My friends on the show. The booker, well, that’s a one and fuck you, you’re done. That one comic that I’ve been wanting to meet and now this is their first impression of me. The couple that I met before the show, they were so excited for me. They didn’t say goodbye on the way out. Even the servers were disappointed, they could feel the awkwardness in the club while dropping off cocktails.

There are many comics that I look up to that have ONLY seen me bomb. People I really like, but I only run into them every 6 months. I want them to know that I’m a pretty funny guy, but yes, I also bomb huge when it goes wrong. Spin the wheel on any given week and there’s gonna be a bomb. Those people always see me bomb. Then I have a good set, but they left early- shit! If you pay attention to shit like this then you’re crazy like me. I have a handful of names that I want to impress because I love funny people. I want to be funny with them.

Posting about bombing on Facebook sounds like a cry for help, but I just think it’s interesting. I know I’m fine, I bomb all the time, it’s part of the work. Maybe non-comics and family members think, “Oh, standup is just not for you Marty.” It’s hard to explain that I have to be terrible to get anywhere. That’s what we forget, we all fucking bomb, but mentioning it is like admitting you’re a shitty comedian or something. It shouldn’t matter online anyway, when you do good at mics, people notice, that’s that. Wait, this guy just admitted he bombed, forget it. I didn’t realize he dabbled in failure, I’ll book Neel Nanda instead. I like to reference Neel Nanda, I haven’t seen him in years. I’m pretty sure Neel Nanda has only seen me bomb.

I’m having the sudden realization here that everyone hates my guts. I’m usually making this face when it happens, I swear!

I’m having the sudden realization here that everyone hates my guts. I’m usually making this face when it happens, I swear!

I’m not gonna post how I kill. I don’t kill, I don’t destroy, I have good sets. I don’t know how to destroy yet. Seems like a lot of comedians do, but I don’t do that, believe me. I’ve seen professionals wait a minute on stage to start their next joke because the room was too busy howling. That seems like a bonafide murder. That’s a killer.

Sometimes the room isn’t with me, but then I’ll see a random couple laughing their asses off through an entire bit. They liked my Metallica routine or they like the horror movie stuff. I just caught a sneak preview of my future fans. They’re out there, just gotta trust myself. Keep writing the stupid stuff that makes me laugh. Do the comedy I want to do. Eat plenty of shit on stage to get there.

I bombed in San Diego harder than I’ve ever bombed in my life. It’s worse when you feel it happening and it’s so strong it interrupts your joke. I actually stopped because it was overwhelming. I started talking about how it wasn’t going well. I insisted a woman in the front row hated me. I dug myself deeper. I sounded insincere when talking about a charity. My jokes floundered. I fucked up other comic’s intros. I got the light 10 minutes early. I bought an audience member a beer and even that gesture looked back-handed. I guess I killed after all, but not in a good way.

The other comics avoided eye contact while it was happening, just listening to me drown. Nobody liked me. Then I did it a SECOND TIME in the same night. It really shook me to the core. Thank Christ I didn’t record it, one of the few fucks ups that paid off, I don’t have to quote my bombing to you verbatim. Believe me it…was…the…WURST. (seven assholes have a heart-attack from laughing so hard)

Every week is different. My ego inflates after a string of minor victories. Then the inevitable bombing sideswipes me a day later, hurling me backwards into the shit. There’s that feeling of, well now my friends don’t think I’m capable of being funny. They’ll forget I was ever good! I did everything we usually mock at open mics. I didn’t trust myself. I got caught up in the words. I never looked at the audience. Fuck, I thought I had it all figured out! Guess I’m starting over again.

Here’s a short documentary I shot about a group of comics dealing with a tougher than usual gig. Bombing seemed like the only option, even though our booker insisted that “If people don’t laugh, you are not bombing.”

We all enjoy watching our friends bomb right? Come on! Yeah you do. I love seeing my talented friends fall from grace every once in awhile, it makes us equals. Or puts me slightly on top, haha! (high-fives nobody)

Understanding the pain, that’s what brings us together.

Just remember, you’re not alone. I saw you bomb. Maybe you saw me bomb. It know it’s awful. I’m sure you’re very good, just not that time. Huh. Next time was actually a little worse. Well, it happens. Three times is definitely not a charm. ….uh-oh.

On second thought, I’ll never bomb as hard as you- YEEEEEEEESH! (pulls collar, makes farting noises)

Here’s a clip of me bombing through a half-idea that I can’t seem to articulate or say in an interesting manner!

And here’s a video of me bombing more. Happy Thanksgiving!