"Good Set"
Listen: Apple Podcasts | Spotify
Transcript:
This is gonna be a short episode and some people, maybe most people, are gonna take it the wrong way, but…
Never tell a comedian “Good Set” after they just bombed their dick off on stage.
I know…that I was just absolute trash up there. I experienced every horrifying second of it, in slow motion.
You know how people say you can’t look away from a train wreck? I was the train wreck, and I was looking in a mirror watching it happen the whole time.
When you say “Good Set” after I just had that experience, it throws me into the worst headspace.
It makes me wanna throw up and bash my head into a wall.
Am I not experiencing reality correctly? What do you mean “Good Set?”
If you say “Good Set,” I can’t talk to you. I don’t have anything to communicate that would make any sense if you thought that was a good set.
And I get it. Maybe you’re in the habit of saying “Good Set” to me because you’ve seen me have other good sets, and that made sense to say at those times. I appreciate all of that. I am grateful for your past kindnesses. You are a good friend.
However, when I just failed more miserably than I ever could have possibly imagined, on a stage that actually mattered and has consequences for my ability to move forward as a professional stand up comedian, and you say “Good Set” - I want to rip my eyeballs out and run screaming into the night.
What I’m saying is: Don’t lie to your friends. It’s painful and confusing.
Just tell it like it is. Audiences have no problem telling it like it is.
You can also say nothing. I understand it’s uncomfortable to say to a friend, “Man, you really ate a huge pile a’ dog shit up there tonight, huh?”
Uncomfortable to say. I’m not blaming you. I get it.
But, unless I’m delusional, I will recognize that the dogshit version of my reality is true at the moment, and you are just trying to be supportive.
“Good set” is like trying to use some sort of happiness eraser to wipe it away like it never happened. And while I do need to do that mentally in order to move forward in life; I do need to be able to forget how horrifically badly I bombed at the thing I aspire to do professionally, I’m not ready as I’m walking off stage to erase that memory. I’m not ready yet.
I’ve gotta go for a long run outside, crying in the rain. I need to meditate. I’ve gotta go hit a punching bag. Watch a movie about a little boy’s dog dying. There’s a whole process… I’m gonna need to walk through…
I’m not ready for “Good set” at this stage.
And I am being too harsh. You’re a good person. You meant well. You weren’t trying to kick me in the balls psychologically.
Nonetheless, if I’m going to recover from my devastating failure, I don’t need my friends to handle me with kid gloves. I need you to give it to me straight.
If you have some idea of why I just ate my own dick up there, feel free to share that. Don’t be an ass about it. Come at it from a constructive place.
But unless I’m a bad friend, I will take that in and appreciate the insight. I have blind spots. I have things I overlook. That’s why I bomb when it matters sometimes. I miss stuff.
I also may not agree with your assessment and criticism, but I will still be happier that you made an effort to assist my defeated ass, rather than brushing me off with “Good set.”
If you have nothing helpful to provide in terms of commentary on how I could improve my performance, that is also totally chill. You don’ owe me shit.
You go on existing in your happy place; I support you being happy. My misery does not need your company. I’m not tryin’ to ruin your day.
You can keep your distance and let me stew in my pain and inadequacy, or you can approach and say something like, “That looked brutal. You ok?”
Or you can say something sarcastic and roasty toward me. “Well, at this rate you’ll be opening for Nate Bargatze and Shane Gillis in no time.” Just rub some comedic salt in the wound. That is greatly preferable to hearing, “Good set.”
If I ever write a suicide note, it’s just gonna say, “Good set.”