I'm Alive

August 5th is a special day to me. It’s like a birthday or if I was married, an anniversary. Seven years ago I had brain surgery that would forever change me. It's strange, I remember it like yesterday. Lying on a hospital bed being wheeled into the operating room. It was cold and the room didn't exactly look hi-tech. It looked more like my public high school's science lab. I was nervous and I had to pee. I asked one of the doctors if I could pee and he said, "sure." Then he injected something in my IV. My body began to get loopy and I felt really good. The doctor smiled at me and asked me, "you still have to pee?"

That’s the last thing I remember. Next thing I know I'm in a tiny hospital bed hooked up to hundreds of tubes as my family is staring at me. I had surgery again on August 8th, but I was too drugged up and out of it remember any of it. I know I survived my head being opened up to the rest of the world.

Sometimes on stage I close up and get intimidated. I don't let myself go. There’s fear inside of me. One comic puts it best, "you survived a brain tumor, this should be easy for you."

And yes that inspires me and makes me feel good. I have another comic friend who was a male stripper and dabbled as the head of an escort service. He says, "if I can handle the pimpin’ game comedy is nothing." Truth in comedy is pretty tough but knowing what I went through makes my achievements that much sweeter.

Sorry this journal is so serious. When you meet me you will think I'm a goofy, silly guy but this blog is my one chance to get a little sensitive. I promise next blog will be wild. I'm happy to be alive and I have a great life.

Matty

I Like Vitamins

There is something that is making me paranoid. It started in the winter. The manager I was working with a few months ago knew that all comics were psycho and he didn't want to hear them babble about whatever neurosis that comes their way. So he provided his clients with a therapist that we could call anytime. Free therapy. You can't go wrong with that. So, I made many calls to this lady.

And well, you sometimes get what you pay for. The first thing she asked me was what my sign is. Come the fuck on. Astrology? Stars? Rams? Please. I'm the way I am because I'm a neurotic nebbish.

The only suggestion she gave me for my paranoia and self-doubt was to take vitamin B and so I bought vitamins yet they sat on my kitchen table for almost six months. She said they would give me energy as well as control my emotions. A week ago I started taking them and I'm thinking they are working.

Something happened at the comedy club tonight that would've usually pissed me off but my emotions were in control. Was it the vitamin B? Who knows? Ok, but now I'm paranoid that the Vitamin is mellowing me out and I miss my insanity. I'm getting paranoid that I'm losing my paranoia. I want it back. By the way, I'm Aries and whatever you want to take from that go for it. To me it doesn't mean shit.

Matty

One Crazy Weekend

Sorry I haven't written in a while. A lot has gone on and I must tell. First off, I had a visit with my neurologist and things are all good with my brain but going to the doctor is always scary. I cringe in fear that she will make me get another MRI. MRI's are scary. One time I had to pee while in a MRI machine. I was at Mount Sinai Hospital and I was quite crippled only in a hospital gown. There is a microphone in the machine and I told them I was going to pee. Two nurses came in and I did the deed in a cup. I think they had to help my penis navigate so nothing would spill.

But my health is great. My diet sucks, but lets move on. So, I'm back in the city and I'm at a friend’s house, who happens to be dog sitting. We take the dog for a walk, and when we get back to her place she realizes she locked her keys in her apartment along with her wallet and phone. She calls a locksmith, and he gives the outrageous price of $400. The only other person with a key is her brother and he’s in Sweden because he coaches a homeless soccer team. Yes, very weird.

So, I suggest we go to my apartment with the dog and wait it out. It’s the last resort. My apartment ain't exactly the Waldorf Astoria. As a matter of fact, some dumpsters are more charming. The AC doesn't really work, and the ventilation is quite bad. Five minutes there and she already compares it to summer camp. Ten minutes and she compares it to hell. Fifteen minutes the first tear has dropped.

Not to mention we just took a dog on the subway from Manhattan to Brooklyn which she is supposed to be taking care of but Yoshimi was a true warrior and never showed signs of fear. Dogs are smarter than people.

First night, we met my sister at a bar and tried to somehow make light of the situation. It was difficult for my friend to sleep later. The next morning she meets my roommate and here is there classic conversation:

Roommate- “Yo, checkout how big this cockroach is. I found it in the bathroom.”

Friend- “Oh, nice.”

Roommate- “And, that’s only the head.”


My friend finally gets in touch with her parents and she is sobbing like she just got thrown in jail. "I have no wallet, no phone, I’m in a dump, please help me. Get me out of here."

I was upset but it was kind of funny.

Her dad got on the phone with me and gave me a nice pep talk. He told me that I was doing a great job and to hang in there because daughter can get a little nuts. The weekend ended and everything seemed back to normal. I got up on stage Sunday and I was worried that I might be a tad rusty. I hadn't been onstage since Tuesday but it went really well and I really felt a good rhythm.

I met this girl who I think is really cool. She is a cat lover like me and it’s hard to find cat lover. Why are cats so unhip? That’s all I'll write for now. We just met and she may read this. Ok, until tomorrow.

Matty