About 30 years ago, I won a contest from Time Out Magazine. It was a semester of improv classes at Chicago City Limits. I never thought about taking an improv class and a few friends thought I would make a good stand-up comedian. I never took them seriously and though I knew I was funny, I did nothing about it. The opportunity fell into my lap though.

After working at 168 West 48th Street, Right Track Recording, I would walk up Sixth Avenue, buy a cigar at De La Concha, and wander through Central Park, eventually winding up at 1105 First Avenue, which is where Chicago City Limits was located. As usual, I would be early, and I would wait on the sidewalk and entertain my classmates.

These classmates paid money for these classes; the first week, there may have been about 30 attendees. The following week, 25, then after that 20. I would guess that there were about 15 people after a few weeks. They paid money and dropped out. I don’t know if they got their money back. I just know that I didn’t pay.

And while I was on the sidewalk before class I would entertain my classmates, just being me. No script, just riffing off the top of my head. I thought I was funny but then I couldn’t be objective. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. I just remember the laughter. When class began, though, I found I could not be funny on stage. I tried, and what came to mind was me being over the top femme, discussing the fact that a musical was about to debut on Broadway about the Titanic. And it was a bit over the top for this mainly hetero class.

My jokes fared as well as the transatlantic crossing of the Titanic. I simply could not be funny on stage, nor on demand. I did not respect the improv teacher either and that attitude helped my decision to end my class attendance after a few weeks. I had nothing to lose since I had won a contest and not invested any money in an improv class.

I have thought about doing stand-up somewhere, an open mike, but I fear the window of opportunity has closed. At some spots in midtown while walking, you might come across a person handing out fliers for a comedy show, which might guarantee that person a slot in that evening. That slot might be at 3 AM, but a slot is a slot. That is something I don’t want to do.

I can be funny on my own with family & friends & coworkers, I suppose. It is what I tell myself, and I do enjoy making family, friends, and coworkers laugh. It’s a young person’s game and I ain’t a young person anymore.

Chicago City Limits has moved downtown and an eight week class is about $395. I am no good at adjusting for inflation but 30 years ago, I am sure it was a wee bit less expensive. Then again, if you’re living in Manhattan, you could probably afford it if one doesn’t eat food for a couple of weeks.

I thought I would write throughout the day as I have been lately, but I was on a manic high and was distracted by many things. It’s a Tuesday, March 24. Bill is once again on the road, in the District of Columbia this time. He was here last night and it was good. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am the only one on the planet that can listen to him over and over. He throws the minutiae about long distance driving and buses and whatnot and I listen. Or more like listen to the rhythm and cadence of what Bill is saying and say ‘Uh huh’ and ‘Oh really?’ in the right place, most of the time.

He was in bed last night by 10 PM and I was planning on being there by 10:30 but I was waylaid by a fun phone call with Mike which lasted until almost 11PM. I have been using Google Gemini here in various replies to my posts. I started using Gemini for photos of Mike and photos of his beloved. Mike was blown away by this perhaps figuratively. I explained how he can use the AI app on his own and sure enough he did. He went to town on it and quickly hit his limit. He was hoping to come over tomorrow but I moved the goal posts to Thursday. He reluctantly agreed.

Last weekend he did not want to come over and now he’s chomping at the bit. ANd of course it can all change at a moment’s notice should his parole officer call and demand that he stay in his apartment for an impromptu visit that most of the time does not happen. Of course this news is all through the filter of Mike so a grain of salt is sometimes added.

Yancey was scheduled for his bi-weekly visit to my small fruit stand tomorrow. That is usually an all hands on deck moment for myself and the other fruit stand workers. Last time he visited I was not in due to being beaten up by my allergies. Today I was feeling fine and set about making everything relatively presentable. But to my chagrin, he backed out at the last minute. He will not be visiting. Next week I will be at fruit stand headquarters on Tuesday and Wednesday.

The usual stage fright occurs. It’s getting me to the stage, or in this case, the fruit stand that is the problem. Once I am there everything tends to go well or perhaps smoothly. There’s more people involved at the fruit stand headquarters and more possibilities for things to go awry. Not that they do. At the smaller fruit stand where I am situated most of the time, it’s usually me with an interaction with the same five or six people on a daily basis. Marcus, Jimmy Chile and a few others. There are dozens more at the fruit stand headquarters, more names to remember, more rules to follow .