I miss my family

Little Rock airport. An hour before the flight. Laptop is out and plugged in. Phone is plugged into the laptop. I don't want to write.

I'm a wanderer. I'm wondering the Earth aimlessly. I'm an outcast. I don't fit the mold.

I miss my family. I did video chat a few times with the kids. Indy said he misses me and Stone said I look stupid. Lesley called me up last night about to loose it with Indy. He wanted to make a costume and Lesley didn't have any ideas on how to make one. Indy needed it now and was throwing a temper tantrum. I got him on the speaker phone and said I had a cool idea for a costume. I told him to make a rad costume out of tin foil. He stopped crying and said, "OK."

Lesley emailed me some cool pictures of Indy in his tin foil future suit. I got teary eyed.

I miss my wife.

I'm a fuck up.

I'm supposed to have bought gifts for everyone from my trip but I didn't. There was some cheap jewelry in the Little Rock airport that I was going to get for my wife but I couldn't commit to anything. I have a layover in Dallas, maybe they will have something good.

So much that you are expected to do in this life. Be a good Dad, be a good husband, eat right, excises, meditate, write, create, make money, make something of yourself, organize, and be a friend. I don't know if I can do it.

I don't want to litter. I don't want to help people litter. I don't want to be a part of the problem. I don't want to help to numb our population. I want to be part of the solution.

(The national security level is orange)

Anyone can complain. You want to complain? Fuck you! Be a part of the answer. What's the answer?

I don't know.

Be a good Dad.

Be true to your heart. Do what your intuition tells you.

Forgive.

Be accepting.

Politics, wars, corruption, corporations taking over and all the rest of the bullshit. What can one man do. Get your shit together. Get off your ass. But start small.

Treat your family right.

I miss my family.

I love my family.

I love my boys.

I love my beautiful wife.

Church

I'm in my hotel in Springdale Arkansas, day 6. I have that lonely feeling accompanied with light anxiety, covered with the usual, "What are you doing with your life?" feeling.

I'm behind schedule once again. Behind on what I'm not so sure.

I believe in the Spirit of the Universe. I believe in the laws of nature. I believe in realities beyond the one I'm seeing. I believe if you do certain things then certain things happen. I believe in stuff I can't explain. I believe I sound crazy.

I believe in the search. I believe in the search for God. The people who are searching for God are the one's who are cool. The people searching for the answers are the one's I want to hang with. The people who have found the answers (or accepted their parents spoon fed message without question) are the one's that frighten me.

This religious shit can fuck you up. It took me years to un-brainwash myself and I'm still plenty brain washed.

I've lived with a strange sense that I've been sleeping for most of my life. I've seen myself go through the motions but I'm not really alive. I think spirituality could mean being alive. Being awake. This is why I find it so important to follow your passion and do what your heart tells you to do, because that is when you feel alive.

I'm still searching for what I'm good at.

What are my assets? (This is all stream of conscious writing so fuck you if you think it's incoherent!)

OK...what was I saying? Oh yeah, what are my assets?

I'm good at speaking in front of people. (But only if I have something to say)

I seem to be good at getting people together (But only if I have something good to say)

I can be funny in front of people

I can obsess on something (This could be good or bad)

I'm a good leader

I can write songs

I can talk to people from all walks of life's (From artists to suits)

What to do with these talents?

1. Ignore your talents, push them deep inside of you, and try to focus on the teachings of the church.

or

2. Half ignore and half acknowledge your spiritual emptiness and live your life behind schedule while sleeping it away

or

3. Shake yourself awake at every corner and decide to become the searcher today.

OK I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about but it kind of makes sense to me and that's who I'm writing for write now.

Wake up and search. Search for the deeper truth. Who knows maybe a vocation of some type will make itself available to me while I'm searching.

When does it stop being overwhelming?

Each morning I jot down some thoughts first thing. I try to write some joke ideas, ideas for youtube videos, for an episode in my fantasy TV show, a scene for my movie script, and I'll write something to blog about. I never give it a second thought, I just write it down and move on.

This morning for my blog idea I wrote down: Kids are overwhelming. As I began to write this I started thinking about life and how I was overwhelmed for most of mine. It didn't start with kids, although kids definitely give you a new perspective on the meaning of overwhelmed.

I was a latch key kid. I didn't have any adult supervision when I was young and when I think about it I'm pretty glad I didn't. I think having adults around when you are young is extremely important but in my case the kind of adults that would have shaped my perspective, had they been around, did me far more good by not being there. The little influence that I did get from them fucked me up enough.

No one cared if I did homework when I was a kid. I might have been made to feel bad about myself for a few days after the report cards came out but other than that there was no day to day logistical concern of how I was applying myself in school. I had no organization or priority control whatsoever. If I was given a book report due in 3 months I would wait until the last minute and take two straight days to read the book and then stay up all night the night before the due date writing the report.

If there was homework due I showed up empty handed. The teacher yelled at me and I felt bad but the motivation never came. I was overwhelmed.

I was always overwhelmed with school work all the way through college. I was also overwhelmed with my mothers expectations of me. Nothing was good enough, I was too dumb, too young, unreliable, all ways the irresponsible child (even in my thirties), and didn't possess good values in her eyes.

Maybe being overwhelmed has to do with perspective.

When you are young you find ways to cope with growing up and your situation and you eventually come up with a way to deal with life.

My way was the "check out". I learned early on how to check out. I checked out mostly through TV. I could watch TV all day long. Morning to night and not take my eyes off of it. If there wasn't TV I checked out into my head. I learned early not to say what you were thinking so I just became quiet. When people I didn't like (certain adults) talked to me I would always tell them to fuck off in my head. They would just go on talking as I would talk to them silently in my head, "I don't care what you're saying right now, I'm not listening. I don't like you"

So I don't know what that has to do with kids being overwhelming except for the fact that I have an escape mechanism when I get stressed out. Now that I have kids I want to be present for them. When I'm trying to check out and they are trying to get my attention is when the strain enters the situation. I can't get them to do what I want.

Recently my house and life were a mess. The kids room was out of control. I told the kids that we need to find all the best toys and get rid of the ones we don't like. When we are left with the best toys we need to find a place for each toy. A permanent home for each item. We did just that and we took out my label maker and put a label with the toys name right in the place the toy was supposed to go. The kids now know where their toys go. Life for them is organized and structured.

We know what we are supposed to be doing. They feel secure and I feel calmer.

Organize and be less overwhelmed.

The End

More of nothing

No need to read this! Unless you love Duke.



I'm writing to write today. My brain is stuck. My life is stuck. How do I get it unstuck? The million dollar question.



I've done 90 days to a beach body a couple different times in my life. I had turned thirty and I was depressed. I was a nobody. I had such high hopes for myself and I felt that I had slept my life away for many of the previous years. So many years wasted on the couch in front of the TV. I was thirty with nothing to show for it. My dreams all failed and I was crushed. I saw two infomercials, Tony Robbins and the P90X.



I ordered both.



The P90x made my body more sore than I had ever been in my life. I was completely out of shape. But when I start something I will finish it, many times something that shouldn't be finished. Luckily this start something till you finish it quality I possess was working for me in this area of my life. After week one I wanted to quit, week two I wanted to quit, week 3 and 4 was the same thing. I kept doing it even though my brain was giving me every plausible excuse in the book not to. Even when I thought it was doing nothing I did it. After the first month I began to see some results. I had a little more motivation.



Still my mind would mind fuck me and try to get me to quit. I ignored my mind and went through with it. Eventually it began to feel good. Eventually I was getting great results and I was feeling stronger than I ever had before.



I guess what I'm trying to do is paint an analogy for myself that will encourage me to keep writing because my brain is beating myself up right now. I'm hearing self talk about how I'm not that good of a writer and that I'm not that good at anything.



Fuck you voice. Fuck you, and damn you to hell!



I love these theories that I keep in my brain that I haven't experienced yet but somehow believe to be true. The theory here being: If you are a half way decent writer and you just commit yourself to writing everyday then magic will happen. If you write every day then inspiration will kick in. You don't have to worry about writing great things you just need to focus on writing. Just write and don't worry about the results. Let writing be the pleasure.



I actually am feeling better right now. The act of writing is making me feel better. I want to do things that truly make me feel good. Not the kind of fleeting good feeling that comes from instant gratification but the good feeling that sticks with you. I want the feeling that comes after three months of hard work and you are now in great physical shape. Or the healthy feeling you get after eating well.



Or maybe the good feeling you get after writing.



Let writing be the goal. Let writing be the obsession. Let writing be the fix.

feel good

I just want to feel good. That's all I've ever wanted. I just want to feel OK. How can someone who wants to feel good feel so bad?

Worry, anxiety, fear, negative self talk, shame spirals, deep depression, loneliness in a crowd, and a million other things that sum up the bad feeling inside of me.

When you do something that's right then somehow the world seems right. I've experienced glimpses of this. I've tried to bottle this feeling and save it for later but the feeling is fleeting.

I used to think that if I just went to church and cleaned up my act then I would have nothing but smooth sailing. Doesn't work for me. What people tell me I should do doesn't work for me. Never has. I want to be great. That's part of the problem I guess. I can't just be a worker among workers. I have to stand out. I've been made to feel wrong for it.

That's me. I'm different. There's something a little different about me. I guess that's what everyone says about themselves. I've spent years trying to tell myself that I'm not different but I can't shake the feeling. Trying to fit a circle into a square peg is the perfect analogy for me. I don't fit. Where the fuck is the circle?

This is the question. Find the circle and find the secret to feel good.

I don't want to write

I have all the time in the world right now and the last thing I want to do is write. I want to surf the Internet for hours accomplishing nothing. I want to jack off. I want to fucking get out of my body! I want some fucking escape!!!

I'm in Arkansas in the middle of nowhere. Sitting in my hotel room with nothing to do. Work was canceled.

Great! I'll work on my screenplay, which I haven't started. No.

Huge panic attack hits me. What the fuck body? I'm alone in a safe neighborhood in a safe room. (It's a pretty nice Holiday inn actually) What the fuck is up with my body? I get depressed when I get a panic attack. Isn't that weird? Getting depressed when your anxiety kicks in.

Panic attacks make you're body believe it is in a life or death situation. Your body thinks you are about to die!! At any second!!

I don't know about you but I don't like my body telling me we are about to die.

When I was young, age 15, I first started getting these attacks. I had attacks at three different periods when I was 15 and I can't remember which one was the first but I think it was this one.

I had a best friend that lived three houses up from me named Jason. We used to hang out every day from 1st grade till 6th grade. We stopped hanging out as much when I started smoking pot and he didn't. We would still hang a little after junior high but it was becoming less and less. (I'm not sure how this is pertinent to the story but fuck you) Another unimportant thing that I'm remembering right now is when we were in maybe 3rd grade I remember noticing that it was me that called him everyday. He never called me. I remember asking him why he never called me and I don't think he really gave me an answer. (once again, doesn't really matter to the story but fuck you anyways)

When I was 15 I heard that if you hyperventilate while moving your body very quickly up and down and then have your friend choke you, you can pass out. So one day we were doing the "Let's make each other pass out game".

This, by the way, was after I had fallen in love with LSD and after I was arrested for it.

So I thought it would be similar to tripping if we made each other pass out while listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the moon. So I turn on the music, we're in my bedroom, and I start hyperventilating. Jason chokes me and I pass out onto the bed. I come back and I'm feeling a little out of it. I'm trying to get into my body like when you trip on acid. I'm listening to Pink Floyd. I'm thinking this is awesome!

I'm perfectly relaxed and then out of the blue my body is slammed with a rush of adrenaline. My heart starts racing and I'm turning white. I jump out of bed and I see the devil next to the wall. I tell Jason, "I think the devil is trying to enter me."

Keep in mind that I'm fucked up on religion. My Dad died when I was twelve, I'm fucked up from that and I'm obsessed with the fucking devil.

I tell Jason, "I have to tell my Mom." He's begging me not to. I run into her room, she's half asleep and I back down from telling her that the devil is trying to take me over and just spit out something along the lines of, "Uh....I don't feel well." I think she just told me to rest.

I come back in my room and I'm still freaking out. I turn off the music. All of a sudden in my mind the music is evil. The fucking church imprinted the gnarliest fear of evil into the core of my being.

By the way when I was in 9th grade me and my friends were into conjuring up spirits. We used to go around the corner of the lunch hall and play light as a feather, stiff as a board. Supposedly you were getting spirits to help lift someone up and you could lift them with your finger. I remember tripping out as a 15 yr old when we would lift up one of our bigger friends with our fingers and it just felt easy.

Then somehow, and I don't know how I'm remembering this because I haven't ever really gave it much thought, we got a hold of some which craft spells or Satan spells or something that was supposed to allow us to connect with the dark side so we could get stuff that we wanted.

One day a friend of mine took me aside and told me to stop messing with that stuff. We were at a catholic school and we were young so I guess most of us just accepted that there were spirits or demons or basically weird shit out there. My friend said, "If you get too close to the dog he might bite you."

So here I am, after making myself faint and getting attacked by Satan, thinking of my friends words, "The dog might bite."

Fuck, he's biting me!

I went on vacation with two friends to Hawaii when I was fifteen. I started having panic attacks and I was sure that I was having acid flashbacks, or the devil was fucking with me. I remember telling my friends about it and we were keeping it a secret from the adults. We were in a skyscraper and I was having panic attacks every time I got in the elevator. It was the beginning of my mind trying to make sense of this and I was trying to avoid whatever was causing these attacks. I began to build up a fear of elevators. Then I started attacks while surfing. I developed a fear of the ocean.

They lasted for maybe 4 days and eventually went away.

I went to church youth camp and they kicked in again. I thought for sure the devil was fucking with me. I remember having them during the tug of war game, during the canoeing, and during the group picture. I had myself documented during a panic attack. I told my self that I wasn't having them whenever I was in the church and I sort of made that my place where I felt comfortable. I went to accept Jesus in my heart because I wanted these fucking acid flashbacks/devil getting me episodes to stop. They lasted the whole week.

Panic attacks were gone for a year. I forgot about them.

I ran for class president the following year and the activities director rigged the elections. My school revolted and a re vote was demanded. I won but the school faculty hated me. This is an entire ten blog story for another time.

At the same time I went to another church retreat in the mountains skiing.

When I was 16 I had been masturbating already for 5 years. I did it all the time but I never spoke of it and neither did anyone I knew. People were ridiculed for it at that age, that was something you would be made fun of for life if anyone found out. One of the friends at church camp got us all to admit we jacked off and we just talked about masturbation for the entire weekend. I remember how relieving it was to find out everyone did it.

When I masturbated (I know this is too much information) I would be able to start and finish in like 20 seconds. I could do it fast.

So I remember my friend telling me that he would masturbate for like 20 minutes. I couldn't believe it but when I got home I tried it. Maybe ten minutes in I started having a panic attack. I quit masturbation of a year.

That's how gnarly panic attacks were and are for me. I quit masturbation for a year!

So now I'm 37, I'm in a hotel in Arkansas, and I'm having panic attacks. When I was younger and had attacks I would lock myself in my room for a week, but after a week they were gone. When I got in a relationship with Les I had them for three months straight. When I started a talk show I had them for 6 months straight and on and off for over 2 years.

So when I get one now I can't think to myself, "Don't worry this will be over in a week." And that's why I get depressed. I don't know if the next week or the next year is going to be ruined.

On the bright side, when they get bad enough I seem to get motivation to do whatever I know I should be doing in life. Maybe focusing on spirituality, maybe exercise, or just getting out of my procrastinating ways that hold me back from being creative.

This blog is my new creative outlet as is my comedy. I'm also taking up a home yoga practice.

OK enough of the ramble, my work here today is done.

Blank head

I'm not sure what this blog says, no need to read. I did it on my iPhone on an airplane so warning: grammer errors ahead.

A blank mind

My mind is blank on topics at the moment.

Ok, what is good about a blank mind?

First off there is two types of blank minds. The first is the mind that went blank because the computer overloaded, crashed, and everything went blank.

My mind has experienced mostly overloads my entire life. The mind just turns numb.

This kind of a blank mind is bad.

A good blank mind is when you have all the neccasary data on external harddrives.  The ram is empty.  The mind is sharp.

There is no need to have the same thought twice, unless you enjoy having that thought.

We are all stressed out these days.  The amount of information is incredible.  We can't possibly take it all in, process it apropriately, and then function at a high level with out incorporating some type of system to help us navagate our way through this mess.

Despite what some women say, you really can't do more than one thing at once and perform it at a high level.  Our brains need to focus.  When you get to the point where your mind can be blank an you can focus on the task at hand then you can operate at the pro level.

Empty your mind.

Empty it on paper.  Catagorize it. Figure out what the next step is.  Put the next yep into a list of next steps for all your junk.  Do the best next step.

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

G.O.D. - Good Orderly Direction.

Your subconscious knows if you are fucking up.  You planned on doing something but haven't done it.  Your sub consciousness knows.  It beats you up.  You feel bad.  You get cancer.  You die.

For me I need to have the clutter gone. I want every physical thing in my life to have a place.  Everything goes somewhere.  If you don't know where something goes then it goes anywhere. When things go anywhere they build up.  They turn into clutter.  When clutter builds up our minds get over loaded and the creativity stops.  It all stops.  We cut ourselves off from cool shit happening.  From feeling good.  From having fun.

When we get like this we wanto ignore it because it feel insurmountable.  Let's turn everything off.  Let's run.

Turn on the TV.  I need to masturbate. Give me food.

I threw it all out.  I organized.  My home is in order.

I clean out a closet and I seem to get more energy.  It kind of like working out.  I don't have energy for it until I do it.

Start small.  Underwhelm yourself.  Take a small action and build momentum.

This blog is a little self helpy and preachy.  Who cares. I'm feeling good.  I feel like I'm heading in the right direction and that's good.

Do you believe in God?

I used to spend all my time asking the questions that are unanswerable. What happens when you die? Is there a God? Is the church fucked up? Or are they right? If my church is right are all the other churches wrong? Who is God? Who am I? What am I doing here? I don't get it. Nothing makes sense. Who made God? How did we come from nothing? I feel like my brain is exploding.

These were my thoughts all day, every day from about age 12 to age 22. My formative years.

I was fucked up. The sermon I remember most from Church was the one about hell. The pastor said, "I hear a lot of people say I want to go to hell because that's where all my friends are going and we'll just have a party. These people are sadly mistaken. In hell you will be isolated. You will not be able to see because your eyes will be welded shut. You can't move because your wrists will be welded to your ankles. You will burn for eternity.."

So much for the party idea. Don't you hate it when someone smashes a perfectly good idea of hell?

As a kid this stuff fucks with you. Satan was real. I was scared. This shit was imprinted into me all the way to the core.

I did a blog a little bit back about how I hate it when people are full of shit about something. I can not stand it when someone takes something that they don't know the truth about and starts spewing words as if they are an expert. I explained that I always seem to remember their words and then at the moment I learn the truth, and the contradiction, of what they were saying I put it in their face. I guess I love letting people know they are wrong.

Religion, the afterlife, and everything that goes with those two words is the ultimate playground for the bullshit artist. This is probably where I began to develop my bullshit radar. Maybe the church people are the ones that first pushed my buttons and maybe it's them that I'm really calling bullshit on every time I prove someone wrong.

The thing I hate about bullshit artists is that I can never prove them wrong in the moment. What a better place for someone full of shit to dwell than in the world of the after life.

How many people do you know that are dead?

None, because they're fucking dead, and when people die they tend to stop speaking.

My problem is with people who say they know, when they don't. Religious people claim they know, it's heaven or hell. Atheist people claim that they know, nothing happens when you die.

The point here is fuck you! You don't know. I don't care if you are atheist or religious, you both just suffer from wanting to be right. When people want to be right then they need others to be wrong.

I believe in God. God is a fucked up word. Too many people for thousands of years have used that word with the certainty of fact. These same people never came close to experiencing even a glimpse of the sacred. You don't know. Why can't we just all come together and agree on this one point? No one knows. This is the only truth, we don't know the truth and we never will until we fucking die, or not even then. We definitely will never know while we breath here on this dust ball.

There's a big movement to be atheist. I feel it coming down the pike in the years to come. More and more people are coming out. I feel it's the pendulum swinging the other way and I guess that sometimes when we need to change we need to swing the pendulum all the way to opposite end of the spectrum. But I feel it's obvious that we need to come to a meeting point which is in the middle and I believe the middle is "We don't fucking know."

When you are in a place where you don't know, you leave yourself open to learn. When you know there is no room for growth, only room to let other people know they are doing it wrong.

It doesn't matter what you believe as long as what you believe doesn't matter.

Don't fucking push shit on me and I won't push shit on you.

That being said I will state that atheist are probably right. But they are a miserable group of people. Just as preachy as the other guys. I am glad they are there to tell the religions that they are a fairy-tail story and ridiculous. But I don't want to be the grumpy old man in the coffee shop talking about how God doesn't exist, it's not fun to me.

I want to be happy, I want to enjoy myself, and I want to have fun. Atheism is not fun. Religion is not fun. They're both fucking right and people that are right have a fucking stick up their ass.

Both of you, get away from me!

I believe there are some strengths in religion, different religions might even have different strengths. Atheist might even have something to offer. Can I just take the strengths from all the religions and leave the rest?

I want to be like Bruce Lee. Bruce Lee said, "I will fight anyone and kick their ass in less than a minute." (This is a paraphrase from something I heard second hand, but stay with it because it works.) Bruce Lee studied all forms of marshal arts. He knew all the strengths so he could fight anyone.

I want to spiritually kick anyones ass. I want the strengths.

There's too much to say and I am going to revisit this.

I believe in laws of the universe. I don't understand the universe but I think there is a system in place. Read the Tao Te Ching. This guy points out certain universal laws, obey the laws and reap the rewards.

I guess I believe in a universal spirit. I don't understand it, but I like to think it's there. If I want to play by the rules I do believe I can reap rewards.

More on this later.

Midnight ramblings (again)

It's happened before and it'll happen again. Late night mutha f'er!!

Don't read this!

Welcome to hell. Straight from the depths of hell.

Old creepy guy was looking at the girls underwear in the dryer at the dry cleaners. I read that text at my show.

I opened the night off while the guy running the show stressed out on the PA system. I was told to be there at 7:15 and when I arrived I was told that the show would begin at almost 9:30.

I did get to write jokes while waiting.

I'm learning. I see light but its probably a mirage. Just when you think you know something you get slammed with a little taste of reality.

I think I did good for a group of people not listening.

Listen hard.

I felt the flow tonight. I was waiting for a long time and I started to write. I was writing tags to premises and the words were flowing. I believe I am arriving to the door. You know what door I'm talking about. The door of inspiration.

There's a J Crew looking model who is just eyeing me through the peep hole of the door. She can't wait to start feeding me material. I felt it seeping through the cracks. I feel it coming. Sleep is urgent but my writing is important.

Yoga, meditate, write and sleep.

goodnight

Public Humiliation

If you are going to do stand up comedy get ready for public humiliation.

Two important things about life: It's not fair and you're not going to get what you want.

Understand this truth and you may pass the test young grasshopper.

A comedy contest? What the fuck am I thinking?

10 contestants. Four winners and 6 people humiliated.

Sound like fun? Get used to it.

The professional focuses on his craft. You can't get emotionally attached to the daily swinging results. The pendulum of my ego so quickly moves from one extreme to the next. So much so that I'm surprised I don't get sea sick. One minute I'm the greatest new comedian in the world and in the next everyone in the world wishes I was dead.

I can't be so attached to the results but I guess what I'm looking for is validation. I just want mommy to say that she supports me.

You can't get water from a stone. And you can't win contests with Christian judges while doing christian bashing material. (Just some life tips)

It's late, I've been sleeping 4 or 5 hours a night and it's catching up to me. I just want to live in the place where music is free. The best kind of music, the kind that no one has ever heard but they all want to hear. I want to live in a place where I take dictation from the Gods.

I'm sick of my bullshit. I want to make lightening with my fingers. I want to be a channel for some God fucking lightening.

I want some angels.

Stay in the craft. Write. Observe. Wake up. Look around you, the signs are there.

Again, wake up!

The signs are in front of you. Keep writing, keep making money. More is on the way. This is the Gods talking.

Ramblings from an angry madman. I can see wisdom when I touch it. I can tough it when I'm immersed in my work.

I'm half sleeping right now, while drinking "calm" tea.

People will show you. Circumstances with show you. The angels will lead you.

Go to bed and dream. Dream the dream of little truths that build into one. The most complicated ideas can be made simple with longs thoughts into one short sentence.

Call on no one else. Look no further. Funny is something within. It's coming to the surface, the wisdom.

Just fell asleep a little.

Fuck the typos let's roll this puppy out. And then let's buy a puppy with a horse and a pool.

Falling more. Must sleep.

This blog means nothing

In the Bedroom part II

OK part two is off the cuff. I'm in my car typing while I'm parked. I'm also spying on someone for work, as someone spies on me.

I told you my secret, something inside of me blames Lesley for the show not working.

I have worked for myself for most of my work life. I'm not good with autority figures, never have been. I had a company that grew to 24 employees and then failed. I took a miserable job, in a miserable office doing debt consolidation. I was depressed.

My beautiful wife was the one who said,"You need to start your own thing."

I heard these words and they rang true. I started a talk show. Very naive yes, sometimes naïveté works for you. Not knowing the odds or the highly probable pitfalls keeps you in enough denial to go for something that is really crazy.

My wife had a job at the time that was making her 6k a month. At the time our monthly nut was probably 8k or 9k. Sounds crazy, what the fuck were we spending each month? I can't even imagine it now.

I'm good at inspiring people. I tell myself that I'm going to give this talk show three months. I'm heavily deluded into seeing succsess right around the corner.

Lesley is getting bummed because I'm not making it work quick enough. I begin to hear comments in passing that basically state that she would have been a succsess by now if it were her who started the business. Meanwhile, I feel that things are going well for me. There's a buzz. There's somethig magical going on. At the same time I'm very stressed.

I've started this new entity that was taking on a life of it's own but it was also taking me over. I was becoming stressed out beyond my capacity to do a good job. The editing, the planing, the booking, the organizing, the promoting, the growing, and every other new obstacle that was hitting me from every direction.

This on top of having two crazy little kids. We had a babysitter to help.

I'm all about following your dream. This is my mission. In my head I'm thinking about getting to this place where I become successful and then deliver speeches of how to go from nothing to something great.

Lesley is having problems at her work. Her job is selling yoga and she is teaching also. She has worked her commission deal so well that she was earning way more money than the regular yoga teacher. She's an incredible sales person.

The problem is Lesley's work. The people in the pay roll department are seeing these big checks that they are writing to Lesley. They get upset. How is a yoga teacher earning double what they are making? They complain. The company starts to give Lesley a hard time. They don't want her to teach yoga anymore during hours when they believe she should be selling.

She's fucking selling already! Anyone selling "yoga teachers" should be a "yoga teacher" you stupid yoga fucks!! She's making a lot of money because she's bringing you business so fucking leave her alone!

Lesley has a sales partner. The company wants to get rid of the partner. Lesley is loyal, plus she sees the company turning corporate. Any company that turns corporate goes from being cool and relaxed to being uptight, micromanaging, and basically turns everyone into back stabbing pricks. Lesley's been through that before and sees the writing on the wall.

The company isn't even that focused on what she is doing, they just want to be the 24 hour fitness of yoga. My wife sells yoga to people at work. They don't care about what she does.

My wife sees that I have given the finger to the man. This is inspiring to her. She says to herself (this is me speculating her thought process) "I don't need to be in this job that's trying to hold me back. I can do what Duke did and start my own thing, but unlike Duke I will quickly become a success."

She asks me, "Is it OK if I quit my job and start my own company?" But she says it in a way that really means, "I'm quitting my job and you better say yes because you are 'Mr. Follow your dreams' and if you say no then that means that you don't support me."

What the fuck am I supposed to say? I'm at critical mass here with my show. Great things are happening, I have something cool. I'm trying to be delicate with it so I can keep it that way. I'm juggling too many plates. We need Lesley's income at this crucial juncture. Looking back I should have said no, but we were in a bad place at the time. I added stress to the family but this decision for her to quit her job was really pulling the roof down over our heads.

I said , "Yes, I support you." But I didn't want to. Not because I didn't support her but because it was a terrible decision. It wasn't rational. I'm already being incredibly irrational so I felt that I had to let her be irrational too.

So eventually I become the bad guy for quitting my job? What about Lesley quitting a job with awesome income? Fucking bullshit!

OK, hindsight is 20/20. But I knew at the time it was not a good idea.

She quits. She starts a business.

Starting your own business with no base salary is stressful and has many more obstacles than anyone can foresee. She begins to see them. We are loosing money at an incredible rate.

Like I said, it soon becomes my fault, for quitting my job to "follow my dream." That is all that anyone seems to remember.

We are now both earning nothing. Credit cards are becoming maxxed out. We no longer can afford a baby sitter. I am with the kids all day. I have no time or energy to edit the shows anymore while caring for the kids all day. The magic begins to seep out of my fantasy, as if a bad decision pricked a small hole, and chemistry slowly began to leak from my balloon of a dream.

I become way behind on the editing of the shows. The magic of the first wave of shows carries us through the first six shows at the veteran's hall but my inability to focus and keep the train on track begins to catch up with us. Very slowly things begin to unravel, but it takes two years until the wheels fall off.

So I blame Lesley for pressuring me to let her quit her job and start a company when I was at a critical point in mine. She didn't see how much energy and time needed to go into this thing. She would give me shit for not editing her parts of the show quick enough, but never offered the time to help me do it. I felt she didn't give me the support that I needed.

On some level she didn't want me to blame her. Just like she didn't want me to blame her for the dream of being in a band getting smashed. But she didn't want me to succeed on some level. OK maybe that's harsh, but she didn't believe I could do it and because she didn't have the vision she didn't give me the support. She didn't try to contribute or get involved further than doing what I asked of her as a cast member. And she would always do that complaining.

I really thought I would write this article and it would become clear to me that I shouldn't blame her. But right now all of my secret thoughts and reasons seem to be backing up that thought.

Maybe I'm right, that she was the one that brought the momentum of the show to a halt. Maybe she didn't believe in me and secretly wanted me to quit from the beginning. Or maybe she is more comfortable seeing me fail so she can continue being a victim. Maybe she likes to point out that I'm wrong. I'm not saying that this is conscious.

Let's say all that is true. I still believe there is no place for blame. (After re-reading this I understand that what I was attempting to do was impossible, so it's hard to fault anyone for not believing you can accomplish the impossible. Maybe impossible goals should be kept to yourself.)

This is my new discovery. When you begin to blame anyone for anything, all it means is that you need to become aware and you need to look at the signs. (this is a Duke original)

It was this time that I was learning how to generate hits on youtube. I knew that the people who were successful were edited, short, clean videos. 98% of the successful videos on youtube were coming from just one person. Much of my stress was coming from organizing everyone together and at the same time getting the cameras in sync with everything. It was too much and I knew no one who was successful at doing such a thing. I could have focused on comedy, working on my act. I could have started making short, edited videos on my own.

A rich guy told me at the time that I needed to develop as a comic. He said he would help me. I didn't listen and became offended.

Maybe sometimes you need to listen to what offends you.

The blame only got worse. Not only did I blame my wife but I was blaming everyone around me. The signs were there. The sign is blame. When blame first enters your inner self it's not a bad thing, at least this is my opinion at the moment. The second blame reaches you is the second the universe is telling you to look around for the signs. What are your assets and liabilities and compare these to the signs. The universe is saying that it's time to make a change.

My wife is beautiful. She's a beautifully flawed human being. Just like me. I love her for all that she is. It doesn't matter what issues my wife is going through, the hard decisions are mine and mine only. When I say the hard decisions I mean the decisions of the soul. The decisions of your character. What is your truth? What is it that you were called to do? Doing it is turning from evil. Resistance from doing what you were meant to do is the real devil. That is true evil. Is it eating? Exercise? Meditation? Following your dream? Following the signs?

You know what you have to do, but no one but yourself can ever do it. Not following your gut gives you no one to blame.

When blame comes it's time to make a change. Change is very scary. Some people are so scared of change that they are willing to fail. Others are so afraid of failure that they are willing to change.

Midnight ramblings

I wanted to talk about how I blame my wife for everything and then come to the conclusion that blaming people for stuff is stupid. And then I was going to have a revelation that whenever you catch yourself blaming someone for something, it's really just the universe telling you that there is a different door for you to walk through. This door is closed for you, so walk through the other one dumb shit.

Now I will do yoga and then go to sleep for a couple hours. I placed second in the preliminary round of laugh down tonight and someone invited me to perform this sunday. Plus some of my new material hit tonight.

Ok, now it's yoga then sleep.

In the bedroom

Have you ever blamed someone for something that went wrong in your life? I tried a stupid hacky joke last night that went, "Stop blaming your friends for your life turning out bad, grow up and be a man, blame your parents." It received a marginal laugh. I'm scratching it.

I have these certain thoughts that I don't express sometimes involving blaming other people. I think when you have these thoughts deep down in the darkness of your psyche they can feel so real. Not expressing them, at least in an honest way, makes them a big deal. This is a little bit of "airing my dirty laundry", but one, no one reads this, and two, discussing something you've never verbalized is dirty laundry that is in need of cleaning. So I'm just going to blurt it out.

I blame my wife for my talk show not working!

OK I already feel like a jerk for even saying that. That's why I keep shit to myself. Now I'm going to attempt to explore why I blame my wife and then at the end I will determine wether or not this thought holds any weight.

My wife is happy when we are making money. That's kind of a general statement, who isn't happy when they're making money? At least in some sense. The fact is my wife has a very high earning potential, at least she did. We met when we were young, she's three years older than me, she graduated high school 4 years before me, and she basically had a head start on me.

Be fore I met my wife, I was dealing with how to clean my room, feed myself and shower everyday right before we met. I was becoming interested in spiritual stuff. I was reading spiritual books and surfing everyday. I'm an all or nothing person. I surfed everyday in San Francisco for over 100 days straight. If I'm going to do something I do it all the way.

I'm a loner by nature. Only child. I can deal with time alone, although I admit I spent a lot of my time focused on loneliness and thinking about how I would be alone forever. The girl of my dreams wanted nothing to do with me yet I still held on to the dream of soul mates for an extra five years after we broke up. Secretly. Except for an expression of feelings through song. Sounds creepy, but I kept all the creepiness in my head.

Through the spiritual journey I had embarked on I was become more aware of myself. I became aware that I had to stop dating someone who wasn't dating me. I wrote her a letter. I told that girl that I couldn't be friends with her. I was in love with her. My heart would beat every time she walked in the room. I couldn't go on pretending that we were friends. I wanted her to be with me.

I had basically pretended to be her friend while secretly in love with her for 5 years. This letter I wrote ended the charade. I remember feeling so fucked up as I wrote it. Driving to the mailbox was fucking huge! I took a picture of me in front of that mailbox that I still have to this day. Putting that letter in that box was the equivalent of Laird Hamilton dropping in on a 40 foot wave. That's what it felt like to me. It felt like jumping out of a helicopter with no parachute.

She wanted to see me. What would she say? Would she go for it? I was fucked up, but I had got this secret out of my head and was doing something about it.

Long story short. She had a boyfriend. It wasn't me. We were never going to be together.

The lesson I learned here was huge, it's hard to find a girlfriend when you're going out with a girl that's not going out with you.

Put in a different way: Nature abhors a vacuum.

What does that mean?

Nature likes to fill up space. If you have open space in your life then nature will take something and put it there. If you have stuff in that space then nature will pass you by.

I had a girl in that space. Nature couldn't give me a girlfriend because I already had one. So, as I just said, I wrote the letter. She said, "no." Something in my psyche changed and I had broken up with the girl not going out with me. I was a free man. The space in my heart for a girlfriend was no longer taken up by that fantasy girl. It was vacant. When it's vacant nature can begin to work.

Here's a long story short. My wife came into my life. We spent every minute together. We moved in together. We got married, we had kids.

Remember how I loved to surf? That lasted for about a second with my wife. I think she came to Santa Cruz with my friend JP and I once for a surf session.

Small tangent. JP was the first friend I made in San Francisco. I was 22 and he was 18 so I felt like I was decades older than him but for some reason we hit it off. I loved hanging out at his parents house in the city because it reminded me of home. And they had a full refrigerator.

JP and I went to a musical that my wife (then girlfriend) was starring in. I had just started dating her. I'll never forget JP leaning over and saying, "Check out that chick, I want to fuck her."

"That's my girlfriend asshole!"

He quickly apologized.

JP and I drifted apart as I became a relationship guy. Years later I heard he died in mexico on a scooter. I didn't make it to the services because I found out late and I didn't rush to get over there. I regret that. I loved him, he had so much spirit. He was young.

OK the tangent is over.

I loved surfing. Every day. I met my girlfriend. The surfing came to an end. I eventually blamed her.

I became a couch potato. We watched TV together. That was our thing. I became numb. At some point I have to take responsibility. It happened to both of us. If you're caught up in that weird rut, with someone else that just wants to become numb, it's on you. I know that now, but I'm just observing the blame my mind wants to put on it.

I always wanted to be in a band. I guess I was always attracted to performing. I couldn't sing. I had drive. My wife could sing. We started a band. I had a never ending drive to become a performer. The unfortunate thing is that my tunnel vision only visualized me accomplishing something if other people did what I wanted them to do. Lesley didn't want to practice. I wanted to force her. She resented me for it. I wanted to put 100% into music. She didn't. I could see greatness in what we had if we put the work in it. She didn't share that vision. It became an unspoken, me walking on eggshells type of thing.

I blamed her for crushing my dreams. She felt my resentment and blame brewing. She said, "I don't want you to have any regrets. If you want to go on tour then do it."

She was basically trying to step out of the way of the blame truck that would inevitably roll her over in the years to come. She wanted to have at least that one piece of ammunition. She wanted to come back at me and say,"I told you to chase your dreams years ago. It's not me that stopped you."

But in my head, there was no chasing the dream without her. She was the missing link to the completion of my dream.

Why didn't I start doing comedy 13 years ago. This is a regret I have now, or at least a voice in my head. I used to speak at meetings back then and people would frequently ask if I was a comedian. When I said no they would say you should be.

Why didn't I listen to the universe? The answer was there. I had no children for years to come. I was in the perfect city to learn how to do comedy. What the fuck! I could have been someone by now. (This is the voice in my head talking.)

So I guess this is a lesson that I'm learning right now as I write. As I blamed my wife for crushing my dreams the universe was directing me towards my dreams. Maybe if I stopped blaming and starting looking around at the signs I could be a happier person.

I feel better already. My new tool (this just in): Stop blaming, and start paying attention to the signs. Follow the signs.

Here's my recreation of history:

I used to blame my wife for not committing to our rock band. I needed her, but she wouldn't come through for me. Because life wasn't working and it felt like I was forcing something that wasn't going to work. I took a step back. I took an inventory of my personal assets and liabilities. I came to realize that if I were to make it in a band I would need someone else's help because I couldn't sing.

I decided that I didn't want to put myself in a position where I would be reliant on anyone else. I began to think about what I was naturally good at. It crossed my mind that I was funny while speaking in front of large groups of people. It also crossed my mind that people were telling me I should be a comedian and I wasn't giving that remark a second thought.

I started to think about comedy. Comedians can say something. They can point out a truth that most people didn't see. I also came to realize that comedians worked on their own. Their success wasn't necessarily dependent on any one person. I started to get excited. It's basically what I was looking for. I wanted to be the lead singer. When you are a comic you are the lead guy. The one everyone is looking at.

I quickly found the nearest open mike and soon was obsessed with comedy. I emerged myself with it. Day and night. I wrote every day. I wrote so much that soon material was just flowing through my pores. I couldn't stop the universal comedy god from whispering in my ear.

I had years of pain as I learned the craft but I was growing. I was learning and I was getting funny. I finally started getting gigs at the comedy club. Real shows! I was becoming respected. I respected myself. I had found something I loved.

The best part of it all is that I thanked my wife everyday for giving me the gift of not pursuing music. I thank my wife every day for giving me the gift of comedy. For allowing me to find a road that would allow me to become successful. I love my wife with all my heart and I encourage her to explore her gifts the same rewarding way that I have.

That's my revisionist history.

--------

I want to do part two tomorrow and do this with the talk show blame. That actually just now worked. I really, while writing this, don't blame her for the band not succeeding.

Until tomorrow, Overandout,

Duke

I'm watching you!

I recently broke my 2 and a half year streak and took a job. It's the perfect job for me, I take pictures of people working to make sure that they're working. A company flies me around the country, puts me up in a hotel room, rents me a car, gives me a camera and says, "Make sure these guys are working."

Sounds like a big brother thing huh? I suppose it is. It's not as bad as it sounds and it's not as "James Bond" as you might imagine. I'm working outside. The workers are all outside. I'm not really sneaking around, the workers know I'm there. Some people with my position are like rent a cops who take their job way too serious. They think they need to be total micromanaging pricks to the people working.

The people I'm watching work, don't have the easiest job. It's 104 degrees out and they're walking from house to house four 10 hours straight. I'm in my car and have A/C. Those rent a cops like to show people who's boss. They want to be the man. They demand respect and the way they demand respect is by belittling people.

Have you ever respected someone more after he made you feel like shit? I can't stand this type of person. The people that think they know everything.

A little tangent. One of my character defects: I can't stand people that are full of shit. People that talk like they know everything about a subject, but you can just smell their bullshit. I hate it when a person starts yapping about something, I know he's completely full of shit, but I can't prove it. I have the memory of an elephant for this shit. I look at them and listen. As I listen I think to myself, "You are so full of shit." But I say nothing. And every word that they say somehow gets saved to the permanent hard drive in my brain.

Now it's a waiting game. Could be a month, a year, five years, it doesn't matter to me but the time will come. There always seems to come a time when the information that I didn't know at that time becomes available to the two of us or time wen the person full of shit has completely forgotten what they were talking about and they start to contradict themselves.

I am the king at this. It's my patience. It's the fact that I don't fight it at the beginning but instead I let them dig their grave by giving me all the ammunition I will ever need to destroy them in the future. And when that day finally arrives I deliver with impeccable timing. I'll say, "But weren't you saying the exact opposite thing the other day?" "Didn't you say with complete conviction something different that one time?"

Basically because I couldn't call them on their shit at the time I wait until I have absolute proof and I say, not in these words, "You are a liar. You are full of shit. I guess you're a complete fraud. Is everything you say completely untrue?"

These people love to bullshit, but they hate to be wrong. They love to put on the facade that "they know everything" and when someone is able to definitely smash that image in a way that is inarguably unmistakable, it just fucks with them in such a way that I apparently can't get enough of it.

I don't know what that says of me, but it probably says that I'm fucked up on an even higher level.

So I don't like to treat people like shit. This is my wrap to the workers and usually they are kind of bummed that I'm there when they first see me. I say, "What's up guys? I'm just here to tell the company that you are doing a great job. I'm going to take some pictures of you guys working and the work you've done so I can report back how great you're doing."

What's so hard about saying that? Phil Jackson says that when coaching he's learned that you need to give 5 compliments for every criticism. If it's all criticism you drive people into the dirt. Let the workers know you're happy with them. Good job. Everyone wants to be appreciated. If something goes wrong let them know, but don't be a dick.

If you are a boss and you're never around and people don't get any feedback on how they're doing, they're going to stop giving a fuck. They're gonna slack. That's why you hire me. But I don't have to be an asshole. If you're motivating people to work let them know you care, that you're working on this too, you're on the same team and then people won't hate you as much. Be present, let people know how they're doing. Let them know you're there and you give a fuck so they don't slack. And then just be cool, don't be a dick. That's how I see things.

So that's what I do. I travel around and take pictures. Then I have the night to myself to do stand up comedy. Right now life is pretty good.

I quit!

My favorite two words. There's something that makes me feel high when I quit a job. It's better than drugs. It's my favorite feeling.

My first job ever; Innocent Addicts relief fund. It was a telemarking scam that I somehow got involved in when I was 17. An Innocent Addict is a baby addicted to drugs in the womb. We make phone calls and ask people to donate, and to save innocent pre-born children. I believe we called straight out of the phone book. I got all my friends from high school to join me. We also were taking donations for "Project Cuddle". Project cuddle was supposedly a program to comfort children during domestic abuse. Let's say dad kicked mom's ass so he's going to jail, but mom is on crack so the kid can't be left with her. It sounds bad but project cuddle is here to the rescue. The sheriff has a stuffed animal to give the kid as they put the child in the cop car. This helps to make everything better.

I remember the big boiler room. It seemed like there was a hundred cubicles with phones in this room. Then there was a room up above for the boss to listen in on all the calls. During the training session a totally random, shady looking, man barged into our training session and started yelling at us. He was telling us that he doesn't want anyone lying to the customers!!

I hadn't thought about lying to the customers until that point.

Long story short this job sucked. We quit and bought beer and got drunk. The company showed up in the paper a little later as a complete fraud, they had stolen millions of dollars from people.

The point is I hate jobs and I love quitting. And I love hanging out with friends and getting drunk.

After that I got a job at the Marriott Towers. This was a high rise building in a retirement community. Really old people. I worked as a waiter, I was 17. I had a big thick bowl cut, I loved the beatles and the bowl cut was my favorite hair cut.

I remember an old man telling me that he wished he had my hair.

-------side-note: I'm really having trouble writing here, for some reason it's a struggle. It's boring. The resistance in my head is fucking with me. OK back to what ever the fuck I was trying to communicate.-------

Our boss was a bitch. Nothing was right. We clocked in and clocked out. I loved smoke breaks. Some cute girls worked there. Drinking before work was fun. The kitchen smelled terrible. My best friend Christian worked with me. I had no drivers license because my license was suspended when I got busted for LSD at age 15. I had to ride with Christian.

We told the boss that we had to be scheduled together. The boss reluctantly did it.

One day after work Christian and I decided to leave through the emergency exit. The alarm went off. We ran to our car. As we left we saw an ambulance and fire truck coming up the street with their sirens. Apparently the building had to be evacuated. We called in sick the next day. The bitch boss lined up all of the staff the following day, We were not there, and chewed everyone out because she knew one of them was responsible.

Christian and I would call in sick together all the time. We said one time that the car broke down so we both couldn't make it. Then we went and drove reckless. That was one of our favorite pass times. "Hey Christian, do you want to go drive reckless?" He would always say yes.

I remember we ditched our SAT prep classes to drive reckless. One of the classic maneuvers was the "Rockford turn". We would find a steep driveway and pull up it. Christian would throw the car in reverse, slam the steering wheel right, make the car do a 180% skid, and then throw it into forward and screech off. Just like the rock ford files.

When I finally got my license I almost killed Christian, Evan, and myself breaking the speed record at the saddleback shortcut. 65 mph. Then I lost control of the vehicle and we went sideways towards the hill, then sideways towards the cliff. We flew right between to huge trees and over the cliff. All you could see were huge weeds as we went down the side of the hill. I thought my life was over, but somehow we drove out with only a flat tire. I told my mom I ran over a nail.

Anyways, I wanted to have the spring break off from work, so I could party. I called in and told the boss my grandma had a heart attack. I couldn't make it for the week. The boss called my mom and asked how my grandma was. I got busted.

Mom, saved my job. I still called in sick. The Boss said, "Duke, we have got you scheduled only one day a week, and you still can't make it. I think it's time we part ways and, you can tell your friend Christian."

It felt great. Almost as good as quitting.

Fuck you critic!!!

Fuck you critic. I was going to write about some type of positive crap that I can't remember at the moment because all I can think about is that son of a bitch that comes to my open mic and doesn't do any comedy but knows everything about it. I see the dude around town and it's not fun for me, maybe for him, but our interactions from my perspective are a little hellish. He gave me a lecture on comedy this morning.

How is it that people who don't do any comedy seem to know so much about it? I actually know because I used to be that way too, but at least I would just talk about the comedians to my friends behind their back. I would never approach a comic and give him advice on what's funny.

The worst is when you get comedy advice from someone whose never made you laugh. Unsolicited advice. In my face!

I'm on a winning streak right now. Duke it's OK, you're a winner.

I've created order in my life. I got rid of a bunch of clutter in my home and the house is now running like a well oiled machine. I'm on top of my game. I feel like the captain and commander of the ship.

Sometimes when you clean up the outsides the insides feel clearer. More energy is available to you and that's been the case for me lately. I've been able to take a step back from the talk show, a step back from crazy people, and I've found a way to generate an income without taking too much out of me. This leaves me with some creative energy. This extra time and creative energy has got me writing. The writing is helping me to get focused.

I love to laugh. I seem to have the ability to make people laugh in a natural way. This is what I want to do, this is the direction I want to head.

I do know this time to keep my eyes open and pay attention to the results. The results of your actions are always important to be aware of. It's these results that give you insight to the course correction that is necessary in your life.

My goal: Be a stand up comic. My immediate goal: get 20 minutes of solid material.

Much easier said than done. They say when you get a person who is hilarious around his friends and you put him on the stage to make people laugh, he lands in the furthest possible place from the one he was at when he was funny.

Here's a story I heard. There was a millipede with a thousand legs who walked beautifully. Someone was admiring his walk and said, "You walk so beautifully, how can you possibly do that with a thousand legs?"

The millipede thought about it. He looked down at his legs. There's so many. He thought, "How do I do this? How do I coordinate each foot? This is impossible." And he began to trip over himself. All of a sudden he found that he couldn't walk at all. He didn't know how to walk. He had too many legs.

Eventually he practiced and practiced and learned how to do it. Now he knew.

Comedy is similar. I don't know how to make people laugh. I just do when I'm in my funny place. I don't even know how to get into my funny place. I have spent over 8 months working on an act. I have maybe 7 minutes of material that I like. I want more. I'm scared because I don't know how I even got the 7.

My only answer is what I hear from every pro comedian, which is "Write and perform."

I have a negative head because I know that I'm the type of person who will commit to something and put his head down and not look up for years. This is why it is important to look up sometimes.

One thing I have learned about myself is that my greatest asset is my ability to just do something and really plow into it even if I don't know what I'm doing. Another thing I've learned is that my greatest liability is to continue plowing into things when I really don't know what I'm doing. I guess I have the ability to do something and suck, which can help me, but sometimes I just keep doing something that sucks and it hurts me.

So I want to do comedy. The advice from the pros is "Write and perform." I'm doing it, fuck it.

What I was trying to say is I've seen people working at comedy for years and they are still terrible. They have a commitment to writing everyday and to performing, for years they've been committed to this.

They suck.

I'm scared of becoming this guy. But I have a small voice in my head that says you are not this guy, just do it. It's basically the voice of procrastination, but hopefully it's that voice that will allow me to be aware of the results.

This brings me to the fucking judgmental prick sitting in the audience not laughing at anyone. I saw him this morning and I said, "That material I was working on was brand new."

The response I wanted, "You know what Duke? Some of those jokes were pretty funny. You might have bombed a certain portion of your set but some of those jokes you really nailed it. I've got to tell you Duke, you've got balls. It takes commitment to sit down and write new stuff everyday and I've got to hand it to you, getting up in front of strangers with never tested material takes some guts. Keep writing, let go of the bad stuff and hold on to the good stuff. If you keep this up you'll have a pretty solid set in no time."

I was working mostly on one liners the other night.

The way it actually went down was, here's me again,"Most of that stuff from the other night was brand new material."

Him, "It was was pretty bad. Everyone that night was pretty bad. The thing is, one liners are terrible. They come from no where and they go no where. I go to that comedy night for my sister. I write a lot of her material. You see I can write a lot of great comedy because I can draw on my life experience which is so rich with material."

Hey critic Fuck you! You don't know anything about comedy and on top of that you're not funny. And you're fat. So go on a diet and let me worry about the comedy, you asshole.

That's the worst because I'm disciplined at the moment. I'm writing everyday. Everyday in the morning the first thing I do is write comedy. Every morning I try to write some jokes. I take out the worst stuff and try it out on some friends on Monday. Then I take out the stuff that didn't work and try the rest on Tuesday. Some of them worked. I'll be able to keep some of it. This is the process.

Then I have Mr. "Know it all" basically telling me I suck.

I guess this is the life of the beginning comic. You have to go through it. Fuck it, I'm going to put my head down and plow forward!

Close the exits / Date Night

More relationship crap. Things can get fucked up. I'm talking about romantic relationships. Things can get to the point where you don't give a fuck, you want out!!! It's too much, you don't know what to do and you want to run.

It feels like you're being strangled. You're being suffocated. A part of you is dying. Maybe a part of you needs to die. I've said this before but there are people who are in long term relationships that are dead men walking. If you stay you die. The answer is you need new life to spring out of the death. Something died but now it's time to let life start a new. A new beginning.

My secret to a long lasting relationship? Don't leave.

It's that simple, close off all the exits. This tool actually works for any type of a relationship. What does closing off the exits mean? It means you are a suicide bomber of relationships. It means that you are jumping out of the plane with no parachute. It means there are no other choices, no other relationships to be had, it means you are committing to be with this person.

What is an exit? An exit is breaking up. "Fuck you bitch, I'm out of here!" You are not going to keep a long lasting relationship, which creates new life, if you talk to someone like that. There can also be exits while you are going out with the person.

Watching TV.

Spending all your time in the garage.

Over working.

Add more here (you get the picture)

Closing off the exits means you are going to stay with this person. If you are going to stay with this person, then you don't have to experience a fear of the other person leaving you every time you get in a fight or have an issue. If you are walking on eggshells every time you want to tell your partner how you feel because you are scared they're going to leave, then you guys haven't closed the exits.

When you close the exits then you can say what you really feel. When you can say what you really feel and the other person listens to you and doesn't leave, then you can grow. When you grow a little bit of your old self dies and new life begins.

So go or grow or co.

No strings attached

One of my favorite sayings used to be,"Free is my favorite price." Unfortunately that other truism "Nothing is free" seems to hold a little more truth. I have another tool in my toolbox called "Fuck the truth", but that's for another day.

I quit my job and started a talk show with no real background in TV, internet, comedy, or show business. In hindsight, not the brightest idea, but I definitely had an experience, some great memories, and even learned some valuable lessons. The lesson I want to discuss now is the "no strings attached lesson."

I didn't have funding to start a talk show so I looked outside of the box. I went through savings and maxed credit cards. These two things obviously caused me headache and turmoil but it was the people in my life, who became contributors, that caused me the most pain.

I borrowed friends cameras, computers, time and anything else that seemed appropriate at the moment. It was great, I was putting on a talk show with a live audience and multiple cameras on a budget of $0. Free right? Wrong.

The worst thing for a a comic is bombing. It feels terrible. Sometimes a comic can see the bombing before the audience does. The audience is there to laugh and have fun. If a joke doesn't fly the comedian is supposed to make a joke about how bad the joke was, maybe make fun of himself or the situation or something going on in the room. Comics get in their own heads and get stuck there sometimes. Maybe something doesn't go over as expected and instead of staying in the moment they start thinking that everyone in the room thinks that the comic isn't funny or doesn't know what they're doing. That's thing about an audience, they need to feel that the comic is in control. If he's in control then they can relax and laugh. But if they smell fear from the comic the audience gets uptight and a little scared and won't laugh.

The problem is when the comic decides, in his head, that the audience doesn't like him before that thought even occurs to the crowd. Then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy and the comic basically trips over his own dick as the saying goes.

I'm good at getting people to go with me if I'm excited about an idea. I can get so excited and be so persuasive that the most ridiculous idea seems to be something that could maybe happen. I'm so good that people were coming to me and offering to be a part of the show. They wanted to contribute. I felt at one point that I was helping people to grow, and to participate in something creative, and giving them an opportunity to do something they would never really do in their regular live's.

Friends would bring me their cameras to use. Comics were offering to write jokes for the monologue. My best friend offered his computer. He said,"Take it, when you "make it" you can buy me 10 computers." Only one problem, what if I don't make it? Or to phrase that sentence more to my liking, what if I don't make it in your time frame?

I can answer that question. If said best friend feels you are not going to make it on his time frame he will be an asshole to you and threaten to take the computer away from you if you don't do exactly what he wants. My life and identity are wrapped up into the show and my show is in the computer, therefore what I hear is "best friend wants to ruin my life!"

One of the lessons I learned, which I always say, is that it's hard to be funny if you're not having fun. Sounds easy right? Just go have fun. Problem is I wanted the talk show to be great. I talked to editors and got notes, I got notes from fans, and notes from friends. I'm talking about technical notes.

Position the camera here. Why don't you do a typical three camera shoot? Why don't you use wireless mics? Use pickup shots? Don't let the camera man talk. Hit the applause sign less. More applause sign. Don't let the camera man zoom in and out so much. Make sure the curtain isn't wrinkled. The guests couch is too low. The sidekick is too weird. You're wife is too mean. More wife. More sexy boobs. The house band plays too long. There should be more interaction with the house band. The monologue jokes suck. The audience is talking. Don't let guests or cast members talk, if they are not miked or can not be seen on the camera. Or better yet get another camera. Think about all this stuff while you are performing.

Johnny Pemberton, a comic I interviewed on my podcasts says that once any technical malfunction enters into your routine the funny gets completely wiped out.

If I'm focused on accomplishing all these tasks so I can have a great talk show, so I can rule the world, then the fun slowly begins to leave. I need more people to work for me but that's it, it's work. It's not as fun anymore. The magic is gone. But people stay because they want to recapture the magic. But they can't so they get mad. But who can they get mad at? Who's show is this? Duke's. But he gave us some great times. But not anymore, now we will be secretly mad at him. We won't tell him directly but indirectly.

I can sense this so now I'm scared to ask people to do stuff. I'm walking on eggshells. I feel like I owe everyone something.

I borrowed money from the in laws (It was actually my wife, but when you're married it's you too). Now I have to listen to their advice. (What I hear from them is, you're a loser get a job.) My mom babysits and gives us money for preschool. Now I have to listen to her right wing propaganda and how she needs her grandkids in church.

I can't tell cast members how I feel because I'm afraid they'll leave. I can't tell anyone who I am because I'm scared. We all know comics are funny when they don't let anyone know who they are. Not. (Rad "not" joke)

The bottom line is, when you put your hand out there you are allowing people to control you. I'm trying to cut all the strings, we've all got to do it at some point I guess. Maybe it's a part of growing up. See that, quit your job and start a talk show and you get to learn life lessons and grow up a little.

Lesson learned: When you don't have strings you have more fun, when you have more fun you're funny, when you're funny you can achieve success, when you achieve success people want to give you things for free.

So don't take things for free that come with strings, unless you're successful and have enough money to say "fuck you" when the giver pulls the string.

There's something that sounds so good about "fuck you" money, but that's for another day.

Relationships

Relationships make putting a gun to your head sound sweet sometimes. It's fucked up. Relationships are fucked up. Your fucked up. The way you can find that out is by getting in a relationship.

I want to be "James Bond" Duke. I want to be the Duke that's really cool, says and does all the right things and everyone loves. I want to be "Super Duke". "Super Duke" doesn't fuck up or get embarrassed or regret what he did or said. The last thing I want to be is "regular" Duke. "Regular" Duke isn't cool. "Regular" Duke has to do regular things, and just be, well you get the point, "regular".

You know what the fucked up thing is? When you meet that chick for the first time, you get to be "Super Duke." You get to look in that girls eyes and see a reflection of yourself that you never thought you could be. You're funnier, wittier, smarter, handsome, cool and a bunch of other stuff that makes you feel high. That's what it is, it's getting high.

You want to know a universal need? Getting fucking high. Everyone wants to get high and that's a fact. The only thing is some peoples means of getting high is socially unacceptable while others can get high and not be criticized.

Some people like to pick up a drink , some people like to pick up a drunk. The guy that likes to drink, maybe to take the edge off, he's the problem. That's what they say, "Look at that drunk, why does he do it?" But please, everyone just wants to take the edge off. Everyone wants to check out. Some people shop, some fuck, some try to control people, some gamble, some eat, some succeed and some lose. We do all these things to take the edge off, even if it's for fucking 2 seconds!

The bottom line is it's uncomfortable being human!

It's uncomfortable in these bodies. In these heads. We've got brains that don't shut the fuck up and appetites that won't back off, and feelings that keep trying to surface.

"Just give me some cake so I can deal with this disappointment."

"Let me judge that person so I don't have to think about me."

Let me hang out with a fuck up so I can lie to myself and say, "This guy has a problem. Don't look at me, look at that guy. When I get as bad as that identified problem then maybe I'll do something. But I don't have to do anything, because I'm not as bad as him. Now let me go just kind of spend my money irresponsibly."

So you meet this new romantic friend and you get high. It's fucking awesome because none of your problems exist right now. They go away. A new relationship has a way of erasing all of your flaws and your pain. It gets you high and it feels great! You're fixed, you're whole, you're feeling like you know a human being should be feeling!

The only problem is that stupid law of physics that talks about "what goes up has to come down." Someone gives you the one thing you've searched for your entire life. They give you yourself. They give you completion. They give you validation, and the feeling is so authentic that you fall for it hook, line and sinker. You fall deep.

Then the other shoe drops.

The person that gave you the greatest gift in the world begins to renege on the gift. Those fuckers take it away. They might as well rip out your soul. Why not just spit on your face?

That day comes when you look in their eyes and you no longer see "Super Duke". You're no longer the greatest thing that came into their life. Your just, you guessed it, "regular Duke".

You're not a super hero anymore, you've now become that guy that picks his nose and puts the boogers behind the couch. You're that lazy fuck that doesn't follow his dreams. You are now back to everything you feared you might be. All of your worst fears are reflected right back to you through the eyes of this lover. Your heart sinks, but then it begins to fill with anger, rage and resentment.

Relationships are fucking hard and anyone who tells you different isn't in one. They're borderline impossible, it's that fucked up. If you want to survive a relationship and live to tell about it you need to go deep down inside yourself. You need to visit dark places, places you don't want to go and you have to face demons. It's no longer about that other person it's about you. Do you have real balls? Do you have what it takes to face the hidden parts in you that never want to see the light of day?

Sometimes being in a relationship is about being alone. Alone with yourself, the worst parts of yourself. The parts you never wanted to even acknowledge their existence. Parts that you didn't know existed.

It's this relationship partner that holds up the mirror. They show you the ugliness that is you. Do you have the guts to deal with this person. This is real shit. You can't get this when you move from person to person. You also can't get to the other side if you just ignore it.

You can ignore all that scary stuff and hide in the basement for the next thirty years working on your wood carvings. These guys are dead men walking. You can adapt to a long term relationship by killing off the man you could be. You could be a shell of yourself. Or you can walk through some fucked up shit. Maybe you'll even find a "regular Duke" that's actually a pretty cool guy.

I just hope today I can walk through this mess of Duke.

Inspiration

I love the book The Art of War.

A little backstory on an experience I've had, or a state of mind that I've experienced. There was a point in my life when inspiration had struck me. I took it for granted. I thought it would last forever.

When I was younger the dream was to be in a rock band. I loved everything about the idea. The lifestyle, the attitude, the fun, it just embodied everything that I wanted.

My first real song I wrote on the guitar was a song about my Dad and lost youth. When my Dad divorced my Mom at the age of 5 I lost a little of myself. When I was 12 and my Dad died I lost a lot of myself. I think I was 17 when I wrote the song about the loss of my Dad and the loss of what was real within me. The real part within me that seemed to leave and was replaced with numbness and confusion. So that was my first song.

My second major song was to the girl of my dreams that dated me the summer after junior year in high school. She went out with me for three months and I went out with her for five years. She broke up with me right when school started I believe. I cried, I wrote a love song. The song was mostly about how she was great but when she left me she made a pretty bad mistake and she basically didn't know what she was doing.

I wrote a few other a few more songs over the next couple years. Then there came a point when my band was playing all the time. I hit bottom with alcohol. I quit drinking. I started writing. Feelings were coming out left and right and the guitar was there to filter them into song. The band was there to make the songs come alive.

This is the good part. Because I was playing so much music and writing so much, a strange phenomenon began to take place. I couldn't stop. Songs were coming to me from nowhere. I would write one and then another would be right there. I could write 3 - 4 songs a day. I remember knowing that I could write as many songs as I wanted, I just had to sit down and do it.

I had a band and they could only learn so many songs. We wanted to record a CD and we could only put so many songs on it. I remember thinking that I was writing too many songs. I was actually telling myself to not write so much. Just concentrate on what you have.

This space is the greatest place an artist can hope to be and I was there. I was there and didn't realize what I had. I took it for granted and after a few years I slowly lost it.

The songs were gone. The channel was turned off and only then did I realize how special of a thing I had. That was 15 years ago and I think back often to that time and wonder if I could ever get there again.

Today songwriting isn't my playing field. I've declared my sport to be comedy and I've been wishing that I can reach that place that I was once at when I was younger writing songs.

I love the book The war of Art. This book explains what happened to me when I was younger. The artist needs to create. There's no worse feeling than the one of an artist who doesn't create. The Art of War basically says that you can't wait for inspiration. The artist must sit down and make art. The writer must write. It doesn't matter if your art sucks or your writing is terrible it's the act of doing it that brings you to the new realm. The realm where angels whisper in your ear. The realm where the art is so good that it's not even coming from you. The place where the art is just a matter of dictation. The Gods are there ready to give you greatness but you must meet them on the playing field.

The playing field is where the magic happens. If you know what your passion is or what you are good at then focus on that. Everyday. Do the work and don't worry if it's crap or not. If this is truly your field then the brilliance will come but only if you have the balls to do it.

I'm going to write and I'm going to talk to the angels. I'm going to dance with them in the realm of stoniness. I'm going to trip balls with the deities, and will translate their words into human ones.

Either that or I'll write a bunch of crap.

The point is the inspiration comes when the work is being done in the field you excel at.

So fuck off and go write something!