Sitting down.

Scotty Baron and Dark Sevier- 1991, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

I lost my sense of humor doing stand-up. Ha ha.

It was the early 1990's. Los Angeles California. Jerry Seinfeld was the King of Comedy, but relatively unknown. Bill Hicks was still alive, kicking every PC dogma that came walking down the Boulevard.

A&E's Evening at the Improv was defining the comedic craft for the rest of the decade. We all suffered for it: the comics, the audience, the art.

I bought it. I was in. I came to Hollywood to make it big, baby. The comedy biz was booming. In the mid 80's there were fewer than 50 comedy clubs in the country. By the early 90's there were over 500 possible gigs for the chuckle hucksters that were willing and able to work the road. Some of us hoped to bypass having to gig the comedy underbelly by being "discovered" in Hollywood. The cable comedy shows were multiplying, but they all seemed to be taking their que from the master packagers, the McDonalds of comedy, The Improvisation. The Improv discouraged improvisational comedy, ironicly. Ain't that funny?

The steriotypical Improv comic was wacky. Geeks. Freaks. Self effacing hacks. Really slick one trick ponys. No edge, no power, no guts. All they needed was a tight seven minuites and a willingness to prostrate their craft in front of the club owners, Bud Friedman and/or Mark Lonow . They were the perceived gatekeepers to the industry (I have my theory on how that came to be so, but it's too laden with animosity and conjecture to spill here, now).

The comics tried to unionize several times. They are a hard lot to get togeather for anything serious. As they should be. Perfect to a flaw. There was a comedy blacklist in the seventies when they tried to organize. Scabs took the stage in LA and NY, and for the most part still have it.

After honing my act and building my craft for a whopping thirteen months, I was ushered into "The New Faces" of the Improvisation. I was one of thirteen chosen out of over two thousand auditioning comedians. I was stoked, but puzzled. Why did my favorite contemporaries not make the cut?

We, the farm team, were encouraged to "hang out" at the Melrose club. There we would gain exposure to industry people. we might be "seen by someone". If a paid comic was unable to show, or the audience wasn't too badly bludgeoned by the idiocy and bitterness of the "regulars", we might have the supreme good fortune of being able to step in front of that famous (fake) brick wall. For no pay.

And we did. For several years, some of us. For several years some of the most incisive wits among us continued to audition, and fail to make the cut. This is my opinion of course, humor being a subjective thing. All I have, really, is my experience and perceptions of the whole thing.

Here is my favorite one;

A thirteen year old comic, Casey something, form New York spends the summer in LA with her nanny working out her act at all the open mic's in town. She's honing her craft for the big audition in front of Bud on the Melrose stage. Her big night comes. She does a great job in the two minuites alloted; great stage presence, solid, thoughtfull, and mature material for her age. She gets to sit at Bud's table for her critique. According to my agent at the time, who was sitting at the table with Casey, Bud congradulated her for a good job done, then began his critique:

"The joke about the Yuppies( "Yuppies are now writing childrens stories. The only problem is: they don't have any morals."),it was good, but have you thought about using the word ethics instead of morals? People might identify with that word better."

Casey was mortified, she was kicking our agent under the table in a plea for help. She was flaberghasted herself but managed to segue the canversation around Bud's mental wreckage. When my agent told me the story, I decided to quit the Improv Farm Team. and comedy. The guys that had been shaping my art were morons. I had been shaping my craft to fit into their pea brains. The perameters I had willingly squeezed myself into were pea braining me.

I see the comedian as serving the roll and function of the Court Jester, the closest advisor to the King. The Jester had the delicate task of holding a mirror up to the court to show them their folly, but in a way that didn't threaten his neck.

As a republic we need to be shown our folley so we can laugh at it. The laughter brands our folley so we can more easily recognise it when we face it again. Without the laughter, we live in isolation, in the delusion that all this is serious business. Life is not just politics and car wrecks. There is beauty and love and hilarious lessons to be learned.

Laughter is the best medicine. Where are our doctors?





(to be continued...)








(to be cont.)

Fool Cycle

Smoke 044, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Art projects. Money Jobs. Relationships. Fires. Everything finds its end.

Like a fire, all these things must be stoked to continue. And I must be stoked to continue stoking.

Even the wildfire exhausts itself eventually.

Obsession

Loopy 8, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

It’s possible to keep a flame burning for years, though it may require burning the day in search of fuel for the night.

Ascention

Orionz 086, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

The life of the flame cashes in brilliantly on the investment of time. Hotly. Briefly.

Naturally

Palolo Ridge, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

The tree that finds itself rooted properly may enjoy ideal conditions that allow it to grow large and deep.

Effective

Bonzaisan 043, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

The person that finds itself may realize it has the option of choosing the ideal conditions that will allow it to be true to itself. And the responsibility.

Bliss

Saturday Bowling 009, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

The fools know not what’s at stake in this life, so their strife remains tied to it, moored safely in the known.

Onus

Halloween 062, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

The self aware know of the great vastness beyond the harbor of consensus, but have no hope of deliverance, for they must captain themselves.

Vapor Puppets

Vapor Puppets, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Groovy

Kolohe in Goat, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

I'm under no illusion that I am supposed to be perfect. I could improve things about myself. I could modify my behaviours and enhance my state of being.

I'm sure that if I quit smoking, not only would my physical health improve, but my mental health would finally kick that nasty guilt virus that I caught while smoking.

If I spent more quality time with my finances, got to know them a little better, certainly I would find a beauty that has been hidden under the dread that I project upon it.

I think I burned out my zeal for behaviour modification. I used to do it. I used to modify my behaviour to achieve desired effects, and reaped the benefit of such effects. I thought everyone else was crazy for not having a testosterone fueled zealous passion for life.

I couldn't keep it up. I tried to be an excellent human. I excelled a bit in some ways that seemed simultneously epic and miserably obscure. Then, I became my predjudice. I got so heavily into my path that I beat it into a rut. Now I have a hard time seeing over the walls of my groove.

I have internal conflict. It takes up energy and I spend that time on a memory that I carry with me, that I reflect upon then call it me.

I think my life was more exciting when I felt there was some objectified god type entity that would answer my petitions and grant my wishes if I was a good boy. Now that I've realized how to take responsibility for reaping the effects of causes that I make, I don't wanna. Not today. Tomorrow. Maybe. Later, when I feel like it.

Life does not die with the form, it slips into another, infinite it seems. Trippin through eternity, gigging in this form. Comedy routine. The Art of imperfection

Fire over Wind

Orionz 040, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

What I Ate

Buggy 102, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Woke up around 8:00am. Had a cigatette and some re-warmed coffee from yesterday while talking with Carson. Talked about the prospects of moving form a dichotomous political/social system to something else.

While at Manland I heard the familiar tune of the lunch truck that drives around the back of Waimanalo selling plate lunches. It's actually and old ice cream truck. It plays the first few bars from The GodFather theme song over and over. I kept pulling weeds in the rain and waiting for the truck to pull in, but it never did. I walked back to the house and made a tunafish sandwich on cracked pepper garlic bread. The bread was a little tough, so I steamed it before grilling it with butter.

Carson made a nice salad this evening that had beats in it.

Later I made a cheese quesadilla with red pepper. Dipped it in salsa verdi.

Kolohe

Kolohe, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

We are not alone...

Whatever that means.

Go here.

Best Buddies

Best Buddies, originally uploaded by Agi T. Prop.

MUST. HAVE. MORE. BLOOD.

MUST. HAVE. MORE. BLOOD., originally uploaded by Agi T. Prop.

Example for Mr. Tripp(My favorite political blog)

Uproot

Fire Ball, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Item: The Weed Pulling Meditation Center

The cult that has yet to be will meet in early December to choose new members. The new members will be privy to a very special all night event/cremony on December 21/22. If you would like to come to the prospective new memeber mixer then e-mail me for important information.

Torture 060

Torture 060, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Projection

Projection, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

See more photos and read more words (I've been double timing): Go Here.

A Metaphorical Experience or: Rules Were Meant to be Broken

Nitai and Evan, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Castles in the sand.
Dreams upon wakening.
Love upon termination.
Reading the space between the letters.
Seeing the spaces between objects.
Seeing the shadow and the thing
and the space in between
as a dream
very real.

Halloween

Halloween 006, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Hello peoples. It's been a while. Been buisy setting up the new nursery.

Had a dream. There was a man in my dream that was large, with thick hair, thick features, thick voice, and heavy. Not fat, just heavy. I discovered that I was supposed to fly with him the next day and I realized that he was going to throw me off the plane. I accepted this as inevitable. I had to go. It was business.

The next day I got into the van with him. I felt calm, somehow protected, even though I knew he was going to throw me off the plane. Half way to the airport, he turned around. We had to retrieve something. I was happy to have the extra time, but then he deliberately crashed through the side rail on a cliff and we were free falling. This must have been the highest cliff in the dreamworld, because we were falling like we had been dropped from a plane. I was still calm, in spite of the g-forces. I still felt things were going to work out ok. I struggled against the pull of gravity and reached for the door. The man reached out effortlessly and touched my arm and said, "Nope, you're going down with me on this one." Ok. So I looked down at the ground we were hurtling toward and closed my eyes just before impact. But there was no impact. I opened my eyes and found myself sitting on a bench in a garden with the driver. Everything was ok. I wasn't dead. Life goes on.

So, I started chatting with the Reaper and he was amused that I was so surprised and delighted that I was still around. Life eternal. He reminded me of the previous day when I realized that he was taking me down. He asked me to remember what I felt at that moment. I had resigned myself to what had seemed inevitable. I felt no fear. Then he said, "that's why you went down. I had to take you out because you accepted my call." Then he sighed and said, "I've been really buisy lately." So, he listened to me enthuse about living beyond death for a bit, then he stopped me and said, "oh, you're only here 'til the next rain, then your're gone forever." I felt a panic and he laughed. "See, if you'd had that reaction yesterday, we wouldn't be here right now." He was screwing with me. I appreciated his trickster humor.

Later, he walked with me to a familiar doorway hat went to a familiar place, but instead of reaching for the knob, he grabbed the hinge and opened the door the other way, to another place. The people that live in the obvious need a handle on things, but the dead know better.