Paddles and Laughs.

It's remarkable how completely off-track I can get over a period of a week. I've built a lot of structure into my life, and make efforts to follow my routine with discipline and focus. Still one or two external factors can throw me, and the next thing I know I'm struggling with the basics. Such is the story of the last seven (or more) days. It started with the digestive malaise suffered by both Baby E. and I. I took off two days, alternating with M. Obviously his patterns differ from mine, and they aren't especially well known to me either. It was difficult for me to adapt to them. I was ready for a vacation, and when the holidays hit, I tried to take full advantage. Predictably this late-year cycle of observances carry with them their own traditions as well.

I spent a lot of time with a group of friends that are relatively new to me. There are challenges that come with getting to know new people, and I especially enjoy the novelty of engaging with them. It's fascinating to glimpse windows into personal histories and events that you have never been part of. Along with those discoveries comes an entire set of proclivities and interests that make up an individual. And then an entirely new dimension of association slowly develops, and you begin to form an understanding of the qualities of a developing relationship. What was once a stranger, a mere anonymous human being, slowly comes into focus. Those are invaluable experiences that sometimes reinforce existing neural pathways, and at other times burn new ones.

So the celebrations pass and new connections are formed under circumstances that encourage the conviviality of loosened inhibitions and a vague sense of a broadened community. Along the way you may very well find yourself doing things you had not anticipated. I went to a comedy show at Garfield Artworks, and supported the art of a new friend. I watched other folks performing for the sake of doing the thing they love. The conditions of the event did not suggest the pursuit of glory or adulation, but instead an intense commitment to participating in something altogether chosen, rather than required. They gave out free cupcakes. The audience voluntarily offered itself to the whims of the comedians on-stage. Fascinating.

And then a couple of nights ago I played a sport I hadn't even known existed- paddle tennis. The game has its roots in lower Manhattan, where an Episcopalian minister named Frank Peer Beal wanted to come up with new recreational activities for neighborhood children. He convinced the Parks and Recreations Department to erect courts in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village (1915). Paddle Tennis was played with a de-pressurized tennis ball and a solid wooden racquet. Unlike regular tennis, serves are traditionally delivered underhand, the net is lower, and the court smaller. The fence surrounding the play is like chicken wire, and you can play the ball legally off its walls. It is most often played in doubles.

Technically the version that I tried was "platform tennis", which was invented in 1928 in Scarsdale, NY by James Cogswell and Fessenden Blanchard. Instead of being constructed on typical materials, its base is a raised platform made from corrugated aluminum. Underneath its surface is a heating mechanism that allows all-weather play. The heat melts any ice on the court and dries condensation. Because of this unique feature, the traditional season lasts from Fall through Winter. It's a game that emphasizes ball placement over sheer strength and speed. Still it gives you a pretty good workout, especially if you start at 10:45 on a Saturday night. It was at once frustrating and fun, and an altogether unexpected holiday diversion.

Underground Comedy Night @ The Brillobox

On Tuesday night I did something that I rarely ever do- I went to see live stand-up comedy. The last time that I saw such a thing (in a formal context, of course) was several years ago when I went to see Neil Hamburger play the Rex Theater. Don't quote me, but I think I may have gotten in for free due to knowing the doorman and organizer of the event. I had mild fun, and seeing a national comic was an experience for me. If you're not familiar with the stylings of Hamburger, he affects a naïve and painfully shy demeanor while delivering a string of cringe-inducing jokes in a monotone voice. It's supposed to be uncomfortable to watch him work his way through his routine. Regardless I wasn't sad that I went.

What made me consider going to the Brillobox for Underground Comedy Night was the inclusion of a guy that I recently met through a friend. It's not something that I would typically patronize because I tend not to share prevailing attitudes regarding humor. In short, if I was trying to be funny on-stage, I would definitely not want to face myself in the audience. I'd be working extra hard trying to provoke a smile on my face, as I stared at myself with a mild look of disgust. Suffice it to say that I'm a tough crowd. But I got a good feeling from meeting this friend-of-a-friend (whose name, by the way, is Tom Henry), and resolved to break my pattern and spend my weeknight in an unconventional way. I even prepared to pay a cover.

I was frankly delighted to arrive on the second floor of the bar and notice that no one was collecting for the show. I had nothing to lose but time, which is at less of a premium now than it would be during my work year. I greeted Tom and could tell that he appreciated my presence. We grabbed a booth up front and settled in for the performances. Apparently the event is held semi-regularly on Tuesdays throughout the year at this venue, and is always hosted by local comic Gab Bonesso. As an MC she is garrulous but animated, and tries to set a tone of respectful attention for the performers. Actually she does so by haranguing anyone she notices talking during the individual sets. But that's understandable given the nature of the presentation.

There were an unusual number of comics signed up to take the stage this week, and so everyone got about ten to twelve minutes to strut their stuff. Much of it was about what I expected from a locally-produced free happening. I was mildly amused as folks ran through the typical material about blacks, gays, Asians and perverse sexuality. Naturally there were a few that stood out, and strangely enough a couple of them happened to be the fat white males. It seems that being socially marginalized adds an element of hilarity to our contemporary experience. Perhaps that's why the nerds, minorities and homosexuals get the best receptions. I realize that's a stereotype, but such assumptions seem to be particularly embraced within that circle.

I felt fortunate to be able to say that I truly enjoyed Tom Henry's jokes. He was the only comic that assumed an entirely manufactured persona. Oddly enough, he just happens to be heavily influenced by Neil Hamburger (and Steven Wright, for that matter). But Henry also manages to include absurdist elements that seem wildly creative as he delivers them. He even made me laugh out loud at one point, which I consider quite the achievement. I noticed that I wasn't alone as he drew some of the best audience reaction, along with a young dude named Tim Dimond. After all was over, I was glad I went. The only downside was having to sit through the "best political humor" in Pittsburgh, as delivered by local gadabout and radio host John McIntire*. The scene still has plenty of room to grow.


* Perhaps I am not being altogether fair in my assessment of McIntire's set. Maybe he just couldn't get it up on this particular night. Or otherwise, maybe he just had his "dumbing-down" meter set too high for this particular venue. If I had to confront the unsophisticated listeners of the local talk radio set, my approach might suffer as well.

Sarah Silverman. Do I love Her?

The looming events in my life have been so overwhelming lately that I feel the need to step back and find the occasion to laugh. My daily routine has been so altered that my sleeping and eating habits have been completely disrupted. I'm prepared every summer to make the mostly enjoyable adjustments that come with increased free time, but the strange purgatory I'm currently enmeshed in is unprecedented. It's become difficult not to look ahead and live for the future. Today I had the distinct impression that I'm starting to crack just a bit. My right hand was shaking involuntarily, while my left was rock-steady. Recently I met a neuroscience professor that would probably be able to offer some insights into this phenomena. Perhaps it has something to do with the hemispheres in my brain.

Anyway, I took the time to crash out and watch Sarah Silverman's Jesus is Magic (2005). If you are not familiar with her, she is a comedian that first entered my awareness when she became a supporting player on the sketch comedy Mr. Show (an HBO series from the mid-90's that featured David Cross and Bob Odenkirk). Apparently she was a performer and writer on SNL previously, but she was fired after a single season. It's not typical for me to develop crushes on entertainment figures, but Silverman is hard to resist. She embodies several of the physical features that I find most alluring. While I certainly don't swoon whenever I watch her, M. has accused me of an indecent attraction. I gather it doesn't bother her much, as several people have commented on M.'s resemblance to Silverman. If I have to be tempted by a celebrity, I'm sure its reassuring that I've picked someone with a similar look.

Beyond her physical attributes, it should be noted that Silverman's humor is right up my alley. She incorporates transgressive (and often crude) elements into her stage performance. It seems to be a point of honor for her to pick her targets without consideration of conventional P.C. limits. Of course this is the type of material that's been mined countless times before. But Silverman's genius lies in her impeccable delivery and non-verbal communication. She is self-consciously "sassy" and her self-characterization revolves around the perception that she is completely in love with herself. She also has a cute stoner quality which allows her to get away with saying things that most people could never utter in public. How much of her act is truly reflective of her off-stage personality is difficult to determine. Yet if there wasn't an element of truth to her projected image, then it wouldn't be nearly as convincing as it appears.

I've always thought that having a close relationship with a comedian would be excruciating. The type of qualities that allow someone to be successful with stand-up comedy are generally repellent to me. While I enjoy comics that are overtly jaded and causticly sarcastic, I'm not sure how well I would bear up in the constant presence of such a personality. There's a certain "pay-attention-to-me" aspect that seems necessary for the business that would become grating in quick order. I've actually hung out with someone who went on to a measure of success as a comedian, and I can report that it was periodically difficult to be around him. He was always honing his craft. It was nearly impossible to have an authentic conversation with him. His friends formed his test audience, and so he was constantly trying to provoke a specific reaction. He was fun at parties, but a bit trying when you had to interact with him on a personal level.

All this makes me wonder if I'd even want to meet Sarah Silverman in person. Maybe I'd hate her, and never enjoy watching her performances again. It's also telling that she has chosen to consistently date other comedians, including Colin Quinn, Dave Attell, and Jimmy Kimmel. I don't know whether her choice in partners indicates that she is not superficial (none of those guys seem even remotely charismatic), or whether her colleagues are the only folks that could ever put up with her. Reportedly she is a depressive, which in and of itself wouldn't preclude her from my social circle. Obvioulsy none of this really matters for several reasons. The first is self-evident- I'm not likely to ever receive an invitation to be her friend. Secondly- Jesus is Magic makes me happy, regardless of whether or not Sarah Silverman is a good-looking asshole.