It’s June. And you know what that means.
It means… that I’m featuring in Storytelling at Caplansky’s once again. On Sunday the 17th. They must love me there, even though they don’t laugh much. I believe I’m going to perform a relatively new piece, “A Love Letter”, which has been going over very well at numerous open mics and which I’ve recently gotten around to memorizing.
So, officially speaking, all I’ve got on the gig front at the moment are Caplansky’s this month and Plasticine (my fourth feature there, I think) in August. And I’ll also be appearing on Nik Beat’s radio program, HOWL, once again in August.
But… there may well be more coming up.
Specifically, I’m waiting to hear back about at least a couple of potential out-of-town slam features in the coming months. No chicken-counting yet, my friend, but look out for stuff. I’m back, baby.
I went to New York a few weeks ago, where I did a feature at the excellent Jujomukti Spoken-Word Sundays series in the East Village, along with Kat Georges. And I saw the wonderful Book of Mormon, and even toured Carnegie Hall. Not nearly as funny as the Carnegie Hall Show, by the National Theatre of the World… but next time somebody asks me how to develop the skills and talent to become a world-renowned concert pianist, I’m going to reply: “57th and 7th”.
Yes, I just pulled an Allen Woody. Deal with it, bucko.
I’ve also been writing news stuff.
Oh, didn’t I ever mention that I occasionally contribute to Digital Journal? No? Well, I do. Mainly for fun and exposure. I even got paid for it once. And then ninety percent of those earnings were immediately deducted from my Paypal account for a service I’m not even using at the moment, but that’s another story.
You should read my articles and click Like, so that I get points and stuff and maybe another eventual ten dollars. Here’s the link to my articles.
You should especially read the E.T. op-ed piece I posted this morning. Because almost nobody else is, apparently. What, everybody’s too cool for E.T. now? (My third-grade classmates certainly weren’t. Take that.)
Happy summer. Build a dirt-man for me.