Last weekend we got to go to a comedy show with my sister and her husband. We don’t get to hang out much, even though we live in the same state. Busy lives, geographical distance, household stuff, life, etc.
It was a real treat getting to spend this time together seeing Jeff Ross. I knew his work as a Roast Master (the Roast Master General), in which celebrities get made fun of (lightly), but in a playful way that is in the spirit of kindness. When I saw he was coming to a smaller venue, I thought it would be fun to check out.
We made a date of it. I expected to hear some funny jokes and get to see my family, but I got so much more than just a comedy show.
Certain blends of comedy resonate with me these days. Things I used to find funny just aren’t doing it the same for me anymore. I’ve had a hard time lightening up. I’m finding my sense of humor has darkened with time. I still find slapstick and silly humor funny in its way, but I’m finding the stuff that really resonates with me is a little funny, but in looking at real life challenges. The comedy I’m noticing I like takes a dip down into darkness, then scoops me back up.
I’ve found a few comedians who do this for me. I’m sure there’s a bazillion, but these few have really scratched that dark humor itch for me. I’m not sure if it’s because I work in healthcare, my stage in life, or whatever. Just noticing.
Date night or chore night is usually comedy night for my husband and me. We enjoy Chad Daniels’ podcast “The Middle of Somewhere” when we’re choring around the house (like the arduous task of painting our deck).
The other comedian I’ve gotten this feeling with is Bo Burnham. He was famous at some point, but wasn’t my blend of comedy at that time. I believe he was popular on YouTube and later did standup. I didn’t get into him then, but during the pandemic he recorded a special called “Inside”.
Good gravy.
“Inside” is like a comedy opera. It captures my pandemic experience entirely. I worked full time and wasn’t necessarily “trapped” inside, but it is what the pandemic and the world feel like to me. Getting to watch that whole special, and listen to the album on repeat, it just snaps.
I got to have that feeling again last weekend, which really caught me off-guard. I expected some raunchy humor, getting out for the night. But holy smokes did Jeff Ross have a way of looking into the darkness, in a way that I felt needed attention. I got what I needed without even knowing I needed it. [The clip below is what I found by searching youtube for “Jeff Ross Dog” — it’s not what I was looking for, but it’s gosh darn magic anyway].
In one of his bits last weekend, Ross talked about his German Shepherd dog (Jeff is Jewish), and then his dog experiencing a medical emergency at the dog park. It wasn’t a dog he wanted, and how he talked about how he fell in love with this dog. The way he dives down deep, then scoops us back up… It was such a cathartic show. I wasn’t expecting to cry in the middle of Improv Comedy Club. It was such a magical experiencing, getting to witness this magic in front of an audience.
What it brings to mind is the disconnected feeling I’ve had throughout the pandemic. I enjoy connecting in-person (“in real life”, so to say). Going to restaurants, getting a drink with a friend, going to see live music. I love getting to gather with other people. Witnessing the magic, surrounded by other humans. Watching the music go out into the cosmos. Being in the audience at a comedy show and imagining our laughter leaping into the universe.
Lately I’ve thought about gathering in a spiritual way. I love being out in nature — the woods, going for a walk, being near water like a river or lake. I fill my cup up and feel grounded, and less important, and my problems shrink. But I haven’t yet found a way to do that on a regular basis with other people outside of my family. And also, it’s nice to have a spiritual guide. I can get that through an app, but there is something different about real life connection.
Then this past Sunday, I heard a service from Alex Lang about Technology. I don’t know if it was meant to be funny, but when something resonates with me, I tend to laugh. Cry or laugh. Or both. Alex’s service about technology, and the ways we’ve become so disconnected (in spite of being so virtually connected) following these bits of comedic serendipity, it just put a beautiful bow on it all.
I felt understood.
Being around other people, likeminded or not. Sharing an experience. Even if we don’t taste it the same. Having the opportunity to be in it together, is the most human experience (she says as she sits outside alone).
[I laughed about speaking this out loud to the crickets and toads, and how it’s almost like a prayer. I had emailed myself pictures to include in this post. I emailed the one below before I started typing. And as I was transcribing my words, I kid you not, an owl flew overhead and began hooting. I’ve never heard owls in this neighborhood since we moved in last April. Then two owls were hooting. And they hung around for a while. I tried to capture their sound, and it probably didn’t work over the drone of traffic and the singing of crickets. But it felt magical, too.]
Serendipity.
When I put my words down — or say them out loud. It’s almost like a prayer. [I’m agnostic, so I don’t really know what to call it]. To nobody, to the abyss of the internet, to deaf ears, to someone who can’t stand my Chicago-suburban accent. It’s like a soundwave, being sent out, that may or may not resonate. But for me, it feels cathartic to formulate these thoughts. To kind of noodle on it. To have fun with it. [To notice the serendipity and appreciate these little moments with nature and my fellow earthlings].
If I tried to sit silently, I’d probably get lost in thought.
When I write or type, I tend to get tangential.
So I tried hitting record to see where it went. And that’s all she wrote [or said] :)
I like noticing the things that resonate with me, and hoping/believing that some of this will resonate with others. I’d like to believe this is what invisibly weaves us all together in a beautiful tapestry of shared human experience.
I think that’s fun.
Even though I feel isolated or disconnected, I like to notice I’m probably not the only one doing this right now (sitting in my yard talking to myself, or planning which book I’ll pick up next). [And that feels nice]
I hope you have a wonderful evening <3
Love,
Jessie
Healing the World with Comedy