Give a Gift

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Transcript:

Don’t take from the Audience.  Give a Gift.

A lot of comics start going on stage because we’re deficient in some way.  We feel less.  Humor is this miraculous gateway to get back some lost self-esteem other people have beaten out us over the years, or that we’ve voluntarily relinquished because the responsibility of maintaining it was too much.  We get up there to express ourselves in ways we don’t feel we’re allowed to off-stage.  It’s a release of sorts.  I know when I first started stand-up, I felt more myself than I had in just about any other context in my life, which is scary and weird.

But you have to be careful.  Cuz you can get greedy.

Personally, too much of my time in comedy was initially spent trying to take something from the audience.  To prove something.  To prove something about me or prove something about them.

I was trying to win points.  It was a David vs. Goliath situation.  Can I conquer this?  It was the love of victory - philia nikia - Nike, the Greek Goddess of Victory.  The laughter was a prize.  My way of going, “I knew it!”  “I told you so!”  “You didn’t admit it, but now you did.  I caught you.  Gotcha.  I knew you were all hiding something from me.”

There’s a different way to do it though.  Instead of philia nikia, there’s philia sophia - philosophy - the love of wisdom.  It’s completely different to seek wisdom than it is to seek victory.

Wisdom requires humility.  It requires recognition of our inadequacies.  Most comics are trying to run away from their inadequacies.  To pump themselves up into something larger than life.  Hence the stage and the microphone.

It’s weird talking about having a relationship with an audience as an artist, but that is what it is.  And you can handle that relationship selfishly or generously.  Or probably some combination of the two.

You have to be the band leader up there, but I’m not trying to beat the audience anymore.  And I’m not just laying down and letting them get a laugh at my expense.  I’m not a self-flagellating punching bag.  That’s often how I was growing up, off-stage - as a form of deflection.  “Sure, you can hit me, cuz see, I can hit me too.  So it doesn’t hurt if we both hit me.”  That’s equally useless.  Doesn’t help you.  Doesn’t help them.  Neither of us ever grows up.  We just keep behaving like emotionally stunted children.

It’s a struggle; it’s a back and forth - you want to create mutual respect.  It should be a struggle.  No one should just lay down for the other person.

That’s what I wanna do with jokes.

Jokes are gifts.  They’re insights into reality.  Wisdom that surprises you in weird ways.  Even when it’s dark, really dark, to be a good joke, it has to ultimately be positive.  That’s a definitional thing.  You can go down into the underworld, but then you have to come back up.  You have to come back up.  You can pull them down, but then you have to surprise and shock them with a redeeming narrative.

Done right, punch lines are gifts to the audience.  You’re not taking laughs from them.  It’s not about your ego.  It’s about making something with them.  Together, in concert.

I want very badly to get into that mental state; where I don’t have any expectations from the audience.  Where I can just get up there and go, here’s a little gift for you.  I hope you like it.  And if they don’t like it, that’s ok.  It doesn’t hurt my feelings horribly.  It doesn’t crash my self-esteem.  I just go, “Hmm, could I give a better gift next time?  How would I do that?”

There’s a lot of comedians with an agenda.  You can have a point of view without having an agenda.  You can have your perspective without trying to force it on everyone else.

Most of us, people in general, myself included, we tend to be emotional and intellectual cowards.  We hide a lot because we are terrified.  We don’t ever want to admit it, but most of us are generally scared out of our minds, so we do a bunch of fake crap to compensate.

The comic perspective, by default, is one of criticism.  You’re analyzing and taking things apart.  But you can criticize without devolving into cynicism.  And you don’t have to pick sides.  There are no sides to the pure comic.  We’re all sort of hapless morons wandering around in an absurd universe.  Get over yourself.  That’s the comic perspective.  That’s the wisdom.  Expressing that, without getting cynical or bitter.  It’s not tragedy.  It’s comedy.

I think this is a Norm MacDonald quote: “It’s one thing to make people laugh, it’s another to make them smile.”

That sums it up pretty well.  What kind of laughs are ya going for?  What feelings are you leaving people with once you’re off-stage?  Are they full of hope and positivity and connection?  If you’re leaving them feeling cynical and broken, why?  Why is that the creative choice?  What are you trying to accomplish?  Who hurt you?  Maybe see a therapist.

There’s a lot of evidence out there that generosity boosts the health and happiness of the giver in an enduring and sustainable way.  So, think about that next time you get upset with the audience for not bowing down to your brilliant take on whatever happens to be trending in the news cycle.  If you’re gonna tell jokes, do so in a spirit of generosity.  It’s good for ya.