just finished season 3 of the wire. haven't used my new pink boxing gloves. only 5 more shows left, hard to believe. the "nominees" came in today, which I would be remiss to give a shit about , except some pals were nominated so now I HAVE to care. Been taking more pictures of people rather than places. Maybe that's because I'm not really going anywhere, or MAYBE it's because I'm passionate about the human condition. You get to decide. The crowds have not gotten better, and I don't expect them to. I also don't care. Occasionally an audience of 5 will make my day. Two people at yesterday's show HATED me, and all I did was focus on them, talk to them, grill them about what they didn't enjoy. I never attacked them, I just asked them questions. It's was a bit self-destructive, but I've become fascinated by the few folks who don't laugh at a single thing I say, yet stay for the whole show. It all feels like an experiment being inflicted on me, as well as a lesson in patience if you'll allow me a moment of earnest confession. (speaking of which, have you ever seen "Ernest goes to Confession"...hilarious!) Still miss home, equal parts confident and confused about stand-up, and longing for a poker game (Bruce??). I think my camera is breaking. Pieces are falling off of it. Is it time to buy a fancy one? To invest in a hobby and take myself on "artists dates?" Maybe I'll become a cop. The Wire is getting under my skin. In a good way. All they do is drink and fuck and save people. I can do that. Oh...and here's more blah blah blah...








what this street would look like it your bus tipped over.





these is some sausages I cooked.




back-vertising.






carol leifer and tom stade @ the grv






getting my america on with DO'D





good morning David. it's 4pm.









jimmy.






what happens to jimmy's poster 3 weeks into the fest.












wall-vertising press-tacular



one of my favorite show titles: "Divide and Conga"





my first haggis experience. it was good. thanks, Olivia.






my 100th crepe experience…thanks, me.






Carol and Rich Hall. Went to see Rich's daytime show...a series of readings from his book "Things Snowball" and a new manuscript. I LOVED it.








bottom teeth getting crooked-er.










carol and louis





Mexican food @ DO'D, Maeve, Josie's



kurt.
























late n live benefit show...








greg fleet










matt kirshen






ed byrne.

















mason dixon













rich hall.




















oh, and bye bye.

1:39 am.

Cumberland Street.

Edinburgh, Scotland.

Things are better than they were, but isn't that always the case? I'm watching The Wire...season 2...episode 5. It's what I do here at night, for the most part. There are live shows that go well into the night...3am...4am...but I'm too old/tired/unmotivated/excuse-riddled/bored to do anything much besides come home, put on the pajama pants I borrowed from my flatmate, and watch dvds or UK television (which, occasionally, is American television).

I saw a sketch group tonight called the Penny Dreadfulls. They were great. I ate dinner with my friends Maeve and Eleanor, and Eleanor's parents (who were kind enough to explain, geographically, where I'm from in Ireland). I don't notice accents much anymore. An American's voice will catch my attention more than any other. I pretend to care about the Olympics more than I actually do, because I like to chant U.S.A! in the face of the Aussie and Brit I live with. But like I said...we usually just watch The Wire.

I think I'll start doing more. Seeing more. Getting up before noon.

Attendance at shows is still a crapshoot. The festival is OBSESSED with press and reviews in a way that puts a damper on the concept of doing comedy because it's fun. I got a shit review, and a good review. I may get more of each. Who knows? Who cares? (answer: everyone)

There's one woman from one paper whose name is bandied about like she's a veteran performer. But she's a FUCKING REVIEWER. And everyone knows who she is. They know when she's coming to their show. They know aspects of her personal life. There are so many people here taking creative risks...trying their asses off...doing something that's bound to be loved and hated. I understand that reviews are necessary.... helpful even, at times. But what makes one reviewer more important than another? Is it their uniquely keen insight into the normally subjective intricacies of comedy? Or is it their own desire to make a name for themselves, once a year, in the one town where they get SOME modicum of recognition because they're just as self-involved as the comedians praying for their adoration? All I know is that the obsession with the press here is the fest's biggest turn-off. The biggest turn-ON? Probably the cock.

Shitfuck. I sound bitter. Oh well. If I'm going to go off on some borderline articulate rant about the importance of letting creativity flourish, I better get it out of the way while I'm still in my 20's. On the other hand, Dostoyevsky wrote Notes from Underground in his 20's, right? FUCK. Crime and Punishment, too (I think, never read it). I'm not in the habit of blowhard references, but yesterday Rick Shapiro said something onstage – a completely unplanned and hilarious aside – about how he probably doesn't write punchlines because he's a nihilist. That made me think about Notes from Underground. And there, ladies and gentlemen, is a little peak into how information travels through my inconsistently productive brain. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go send a bottle of Glenmorangie to every newspaper in Scotland. Oh and here are some more pictures:

A traditional day of Wire-watching in apartment 2F2:






Backstage @ a variety show.



Joke-E-Oke at some Variety show. Scott Capurro sitting back there with the cast of Big Brother the Musical.



Harmon Leon



Some anti-Olympics ads






an Indian place folks eat at way too often...it's good, but I might be sick of it.




Reggie Hunter and Brendan Burns backstage at Late n' Live



Phil Nichol, Rick, and Reggie backstage at Late n' Live

Me and Rick, same backstage



Late n Live audience (I didn't go up, so none of them matter to me)



doing college radio that looked suspiciously like MY college radio station...



Rick and Laura backstage at the latenight BBC show



my venue...the GRV...my first espresso martini cuz I'm a faggot.









I wonder if Robert DeNeiro had panic attacks here, too.



advertising I will NEVER get.



my flatmates.



once again...but with Luke, Brendan's son.



Street Fairies:












BBQ Chicken day @ Maeve, Josie, and David's






Josie after preparing a feast.

Maeve @ night.



Some folks fro Big Brother the Musical (didn't see it, won't see it, not passing judgment but sort of am)



Laura takes a stroll



fuck this is cute



late night eatZ






rainy day from behind bus stop plexi-glass





THERE IS MORE. TOO LAZY.

Not quite sure how to sum up my trip thus far…it has been fun at times, miserable at times, and consistently uncomfortable to some degree. I've been away from home, more or less, for a few weeks. I usually love being away. From anything. I like to get the fuck out as often as possible from whatever it is that I'm in.

It's a bit different this time. I think I'd like to be home.

Dublin is lovely. Edinburgh is surreal and beautiful. Everything, everywhere, is old. All that being said I spent an hour last night Skyping my therapist. In the middle of this ancient fucking city, just before hanging my laundry to dry, I found myself hunched over my computer having my ten thousandth conversation about why I'm such a mess.

I had a conversation with an Irish friend about why depression doesn't seem as prevalent over here. He had some ideas, mainly that the culture here is much less about the self…more family and community based. Essentially, and these are not his words…that Americans are just more selfish. I think he's right. But I've been selfish, emotionally at least, for 26 years, and it's going to take a lot more than pizza and a stroll to change that.

So here I am…

Perhaps I should mention that my shows are poorly attended and I've at times condescendingly told audience members that I would gladly talk to them one-on-one to explain, structurally, why the words coming out of my mouth qualified as jokes. I'm sure that adds to the pile of shit I ruminate over every night while longing to be home, in my own bed, ruminating over an entirely different shaped pile of shit.

I guess there's always a pile of shit. I'm trying to make it smaller. But to make it smaller I have to touch it. And shit is not fun to touch. Or smell. It smells like shit.

The good news is that I'm not dead, and I still enjoy taking pictures. So if you enjoy looking at pictures, feel free to scroll down. If you hate pictures…if you're like, "fuck pictures, I think they're stupid faggots!" then do not scroll down. And don't leave comments like "hang in there," because they just make me feel like a self-centered asshole for being honest with strangers. Cheers!


Ran into Kyle Kinane on the first leg of my flight…he's good people.



Ran into this on the SF to London stretch, and fell asleep next to a fat woman from Holland.





Dublin…


something old.



something new (Matt Crosby of "Pappy's Fun Club")



something gay.









Louis CK and Ryan Murphy






Louis, Reggie Watts, and Jamie Kilstein were the other Americans in Dublin.






David O'Doherty is FROM Dublin, and a somewhat awesome fellow.










Edinburgh…

my street…




Praise be.






@ the GRV: Jamie Kilstein, Rick Shapiro, Joke-E-Oke, and eventually Carol Leifer…








I spend a lot of time here waiting for the bus. I like to sit on the top deck because I'm a stupid American who finds cute foreign things to be very novel.


my flatmate brendon burns, and my dear pal jimmy carr, sharing a filthy wall…






a cat I met…let's call him Steve.



Mick, the promoter, who I can't imagine is making a dime off me, but is extremely kind and generous nonetheless. He took me to see a comic named Reggie D. Hunter. He was funny. You should look him up.






my second favorite picture.



Leon, who hosts "Spank!" It's a latenight show, and the one great time I've had so far…went up at 2am, loved it. Needed it.






backstage at Spank! (they use an exclamation point in the title of the show…I'm not just really excited to caption this photo)






i think this is my favorite picture. i don't know why.



Barbara Romen…American…den mother…makes shit happen.



because who WOULDN'T want to see Grease and visit a castle in the same day?



an honest approach to mental health.




Chicken dinner at Maeve's where I learned about goose fat.













a drink I like…I found it in one store…I think it costs me $4 a day to have one. i don't care.















my flatmate again, brendon burns. he won the festival last year. he's doing his show in a room with a chandelier. i'm doing my show in a room with an oscillating fan.
























more to come, unless my camera breaks, or I just don't feel like it…