I'm Home

I took a few day off to visit my hometown of Woodstock, NY. Still, comedy floats in my brain. I've watched about thirty speeches from the Democratic National Convention and I'm still waiting for a lot of punchlines. Way too many premises. It was nice to see my Grandma who has a really strange perm. She looks like the singer of The Darkness. Also, my cat Fenway remembered me quite well. They say cats have amazing smell. I'll be back on-stage tomorrow night. I can't wait.

Matty

Australian Hairdresser's Nightmare

I hosted an amateur show tonight and there was a major club booker from Australia in the audience. So, we started talking and I asked her opinion on my stuff. She said, "You want the truth?" I was like,"Lay it on me."

She said I was real lazy and sometimes it felt like I didn't want to be up there. I was like, whoa, never heard that before. I explained hosting an amateur show is work. Thirty comics are nagging you when they are up. Then they bitch to me if they get a bad spot. Really bad comics hurt the show and bring it down and I have to pick it up.

It’s hard work. I do my seven minutes up front and then a few jokes in between the first few comics. After that it’s my job to bring up the next thirty comics as soon as possible. I'm hungry, tired and just want to do the job.

Then her tone changed and she gave me a few compliments, but the word lazy haunts me. My parents used to always say I was lazy. Unfortunately, that used to make me even lazier. This dog needs positive reinforcement. Give Matty a bone and he will work his ass off. Tell him he is a lazy boy and he curls into a ball.

Anyway, she tells me she just got back from the big festival in Montreal and the best performance was by Sinbad. Sinbad? Yes Sinbad. He probably blows me off stage but I don't feel so bad. The guy wore multi-colored skid pants for Christ-sakes.

So, me and the negative comic who I love, asked if I would be big in Australia and she said sure. I said I would endorse Kangaroo giblets. It was just a bizarre conversation that got really silly. I also think she thought I was a cutie. Hey, what can I do? When I wear a tight black shirt I move from Booger to hunk status. There has to be some sort of sex appeal to me. A very few elite lucky ladies know this.

I'm going to Woodstock for a few days. It’s going to be quiet. I'll report from there.

If anyone knows what movie "Australian Hairdresser's Nightmare" was in I will personally buy you a Matty Goldberg mug.

Cheers,

Matty

So Much To Say

I don't know if I'll ever make it. Comedy is a tough profession. It takes all types of ingredients to make it. But I live and die with it everynight. There are so many lessons I have not learned in life. I really don't know how to deal with people. I feel like because I'm small people like to push me around and I have to fight back. I am quite emotional and sensitive and that gets me in trouble.

I used to go to a therapist. I told him comedy is my life and there is no turning back. He told me to calm down and that life is unpredictable and anything can happen. A day might come that I might want to get a real job. That I meet a girl and comedy becomes secondary to her. None of that has happened yet. I also feel myself falling deeper and deeper.

Right now I feel no regrets. I honestly don't know what I'm saying. There is just a lot on my mind that I can not discuss. I just know I have met so many great friends through comedy. Guys who always make me laugh and give me great support. I say this because I feel another comic is trying to get under my skin. And, well, unfortunately its working. But I'm going to move on because space on this blog doesn't deserve to be wasted on him.

I want to say Pleasantville was great on Friday. It was quite pleasant. There was this great table of married ladies who needed a night away from their husbands. They were a fun audience. After the show there was karaoke. Seemed like fun but I opted for a lonely train back to NYC. I got back and I was tired, but my body dragged me to a comedy club to go on at 12:50 am. That’s the compulsion I feel.

This sounds corny, but I want to thank all my friends. We are in this together and I care about you. That’s it for now. I promise tomorrow a funny blog. I'm just serious Matty right now pondering my existence. Bear with me.

Matty

canTANKerous

I have no idea what cantankerous means or if I even spelled it right. It just sounds real bad. It has the word tank in it. I did four shows this weekend. Three of them were very good. But one of them was, let’s say a "bomb."

I'm supposed to brag in this blog, aren't I? Tell you guys how wonderful I am? But that’s not reality. I can't hide that I had a really awful show. It felt so horrible because I have not escaped the feeling that every show is life and death.

The scene was at a huge place. It was sold out and the crowd was buzzing. The guy before me was high energy and completely killed. So, the second I walked up on stage and I greeted the crowd I felt doom.

My mouth was dry and my voice was monotone. I could only see a few rows of people. I could hear people paying their checks but I won't use that as an excuse. Each joke was flat and said with little confidence. In my head I was thinking, "that’s not going to work." So, I gracefully went down.

It was 7 minutes of pain. A horrible trip to the dentist. That night I had a nightmare that I was performing at a comedy club and after each joke people started leaving. At the end of my set there were two people left. Bombing fucks you up, but it’s a learning experience. And everyone goes down. Maybe I shouldn't care so much. It’s just that I won't forget that set. I have it on audio tape and I'm curious to listen to it. Was it that bad?

Matty