This post is just one part of What Went Wrong With Last Night’s Show E08. It ought to be listened to and read after watching the video portion, found under the what went wrong. tab.

Sometimes ideas or want don’t come or content can’t be generated and so you use whatever you have nonetheless to continue putting things out for your own sake or sanity. Write what you know a friend said more or less, so what else is there but the frustration of being in his particular time and place? Again, there’s the awful intimacy of the autobiographical, which may be little or nothing more than the totally mad and in fact artless, but then people respond to honesty and god knows that no one’s the only one to have ever experienced any of their experiences. And if not for the people who attempt to live what they can only imagine is others’ lives in the face of the public eye, then whom?

If the idea is to communicate a kind of being-at-loss then how better than with just such an expressly, perhaps completely perhaps expression?

At least others before had to suffer–not in the sense of suffer–these kinds of experiences alone. But, then, who needs character?

None of this is comedy. None of this is comedy anymore.

But, then again, on the other hand, you get out of the house and things happen. Get out of the house and things happen. This is all part of at least some process, possibly.

Is comedy supposed to make people (i.e., audiences) feel better? But ought others feel better than I do?

What Went Wrong is now more than just anything else a Career Day word of warning for prospective or curious wanna-be comics.

Like the woman smoking a cigarette through that hold in her throat, this too never had to happen; this too never had to be. (And, in effect, this is a kind of a taking-a-drag-through-my-own-kind-of-sick-hole.)

Better people have felt worse. Always a consolation.