I Didn't Know I Was Brown Belt

Yesterday I was promoted to brown belt in Jiu Jitsu after 7 years of training.  To make it even better, the belt is under the wizard himself, Malachy Friedman.  For all you non Jiu Jitsu friends, getting a new belt  happens only 4 times over a 10+ span of time.  In the economy of the sport, this is a red letter day.

 I was absolutely surprised.  This year has been a break out year for my training, but I still felt like there was more room for me to grow before such a thing.  I'm almost uncomfortable with it right now.  I feel like I found a thousand dollars in a parking lot.  

I'm mostly thankful to have made it this far, and I'm reminded of how I started and how this sport has come to shape my life. 

I found Jiu Jitsu in Copenhagen in 2011.  I found it in pain and I found it in transition.  It was the year where everything I knew was ending.  My marriage, my faith, and my brother passing away.  The tectonic plates of my life were shifting.  My ex didn't get Jiu Jitsu, and neither did a lot of other people in my life.  

In their defense, there is nothing worse than a white belt's enthusiasm for the sport.  Its a kid that just got into card magic (also something my ex had to endure from me haha).  You're gonna hear about it, and you're gonna have to listen.  

Jiu Jitsu was important to me then because it gave me permission to be strong and to practice survival and attempt dominance.  At a time when I felt like life was running the tables on me, here was a place where I could take all my love, and all my hate and pour it all out and walk out clean.  

I'll never forget doing the warm ups extra hard one day as I was in the middle of divorce and apartment hunting and my coach making fun of me for it.  But damn it was such a relief.

As it became a small sliver of my newly minted identity, I noticed things about myself.  My body looked better, my shoulders more square.  And more interestingly, when I would be out at bars or clubs, I was completely relaxed.  The worst thing that could happen is someone tackle me to the ground and try to keep me there. And I was paying 500 Kroner a month for someone to do that 3 days a week.  It made me more calm.  

I made new friends.  One of my first friends in the sport was a girl named Sabine.  A unassuming German girl who was a white belt like me, but unlike me she was good haha.  In my experience, women are an often times an underrated part of a gym culture.  They learn early that power can only be overcome by technique and thus are often times better students of the game.  Sabine always encouraged me and still does.  I'll never forget when I was going to compete at the Danish open and she said she would be mad at me if I didn't do well.  She was joking, but I have always been the type of person that rises to other people's faith in me.  We are still friends and I can't wait to see her get her brown belt one day. 

Another early grappling friend was a chef named Haan.  It was Haan and Lisa's couch that I slept on when I broke up with my ex.  He was a blue belt from Canada, and he was a great older brother character to give me advice on how to not be a dumb fuck white belt.  Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to meet a lot of Sabine's and a lot of Haan's.  

One of the funniest moments from my earliest experiences in the sport happened at my going away party.  It was there that I would meet a woman who would take on a huge significance in my life.  We hit it off that night and she ended up spending the night.  This was very new to me, being a recently divorced jesus boy.  As we laid in the dark, she said to me

"want to know at what point I decided I was coming home with you?".  

"Yes" I replied trying not to immediately produce a pen and paper to make notes on.  

"When I heard you talking about Jiu Jitsu and grappling...  I just knew you would know how to handle a body".  

In retrospect that sounds like murder, but at the time it was hot and sweet and more importantly, a revelation.

This thing that other people saw as a reason to reject me was at the same time and in the same city, a reason for other people to want me.  

I don't do Jiu Jitsu for other people, but its effect on others through me will always be a part of my life I'm sure. 

After I moved back to Charleston, I looked for a gym to continue my training.  I was a newly minted blue belt, and was excited to keep going.  Then one day, doing a drop in class at a local gym, I hurt my back for the first time.  It was awful.  I was trying to build momentum in my life and this was the last thing I needed.  I would wake up with red hot pain in the middle of the night, sciatic type symptoms.  I couldn't put my ass flat in a chair for six months.  It was discouraging.  Physical therapy and time brought me back, but it was a journey.  

I eventually ended up in a dirty gym in North Charleston 6 months later on the mats with Casey Collias, the teacher and later friend who would one day give me my purple belt.  This was a very formative experience too.  The gym was kind of a sinking ship, but on that sinking ship we had a strong Jiu Jitsu program where I met some life long friends that I still train with every week.  We trained hard every day.  Flow rolls was a punch line.  We were only trying to go hard.  Case in point, my first day there, I got caught in a purple belts triangle choke.  I had my hand in so I didn't want to tap.  He squeezed the triangle so hard that my nose almost broke against my own hand and swolle up like Geraldo.  

It sounds weird to enjoy some of this painful training.  But in my life, I was also in pain.  I was starting over.  I was living in my mother's house at 30, I was driving a $1100 car with no power steering and I was broke.  But I was also building myself.

The theme of Jiu Jitsu in my life is that it gives me the strength to self identify in hard times.  That is still true.

My current gym ATT Lowcountry, has been a crazy ride. 

When that old sinking ship gym in North Charleston was dying, Malachy was planning a long awaited move back to Charleston to start his school.  I had grown suspicious of other schools.  A lot of times, we had local black belts visit who were not good at all.  Even though I was just a purple, I didn't want to put my time in somewhere where I could touch the bottom of the pool with my toes.  That concern was addressed in a 3 minute roll with Malachy in which he passed my guard, then let me re-guard oooooohhhh 15 times?  Not exaggerating.  

He was a good sport about it.  He knew everyone had to test him before they would trust him. He was there in those early steps.  He was there when we first got to know each other training in his morning classes.  He came to my first headlining comedy show with his wife Sarah (the heart of our gym).  He sympathized when I had yet another terrible back injury that put me out for a year.  He had been through much worse and he was well acquainted with the fear and the despair that seeps into everything, not to mention the almost constant pain that back injuries can create.  He had endured them, and he was my sherpa through it.  He was also there when I started coming back.  Getting beat by everyone, being out of shape.  He was also there when I was getting therapy and slowly building my game up.  He was there screaming his head off when I lost badly at IBJJF in May, he was there in the aftermath when I was embarrassed telling me that this happens to everyone, and he was there this summer when I won IBJJF in Orlando against tough competition.  Never trying to crowd me, never trying to make it about himself, just quietly acknowledging the moment then moving on to the next.

The whole time, and I mean the whole time, I think I've heard less then ten direct compliments from him.  And the truth is, I like that.  Its so easy to say nice things to people so they will like you more, but he doesn't have that gear.  I need an outside voice.  I need someone to push me.  But I really don't like being overinflated.  It always makes me trust someone's judgement way less.

Malachy is an easily misunderstood person.  His exterior is blunt, but underneath that is a deep seated intelligence and genuine concern for the lives of the people he teaches.  He's a man of commitments with uncomfortable intensity.   His gym and his family are everything.  He has spent his life and time mastering one thing.  In that regard, we couldn't be more different.  I think thats why I know ATT is where I have grown the most.

Our team is so special too.  They are the most good natured group of pyschos and nerds I've ever been around.  I'm in constant awe at how good the white and blue belts are and I'm constantly amazed at how little I understand about this sport.  

 It never ends.  That is either a terrifying idea or a beautiful one.  Depending on what you want. 

When I was promoted last night, I looked into everyone's face who congratulated me or shook my hand.  They were all genuinely happy for me.  Its so rare to find a room full of people who are simultaneously happy that you are doing well.  Thats a precious thing.  

I will always be someone that needs to live in different worlds to be happy.  Comedy, music, grappling, Denmark, whatever.  I need the variety.  But sometimes I feel my time on the mats is the best part of me.  

Its the thing that powers all the other pursuits.  

Right now, I'm in the best position I've ever been with the sport.  I'm healthy, I'm surrounded by old and new friends who are teaching me things every day, and helping me be better.  I have great students of my own now, and I'm honored to help do for them in some small way what has been done for me.  

Still, brown belt is a big thing.  I don't see it as a new house.  I see it as a nice car in a bad neighborhood.  Its amazing and has many features, but it also makes you a target.  But the culture of Jiu Jitsu is one of constant never ending challenge, and I gladly embrace that.  I'm happy that I have the mental and physical health to be pushed, and even better to have it done by people that care about me in real life.  

I'm so happy.  And I'm thankful to everyone who ever grabbed my collar and sleeve.  The accumulation is everything.  Every roll has mattered in one way or another. 

I have a bigger understanding of what I'm capable of because of this sport and I plan to see it through.  

Thank you to everyone.  

Emotional Minimalism

I'm fascinated by estate sales, because to me, there is not a more somber shopping experience in the world.  Its were death and deals meet.  I try to go to one every now and then, but when I do, I'm overwhelmed by a feeling:  as soon as you die and your family picks over the good stuff, everything you saw day in and day out in your home becomes a pawn shop for strangers to bid on.  Knowing this, you think we would attach less meaning to things.

I think it would be funny if it was possible to have a living estate sale like they do living funerals.  People could come in and tell you what low ball shit number they would pay for your art and plates that you've worked hard to collect.   

I listened to a podcast today on minimalism.  The driving point was a question, what if you could be happier with less?  It is a deceptively simple idea.

I am a man that feels like he is constantly playing from a deficit.  Some of those deficits are figments of childhood and others are quite real.  The most common counter punch to not feeling special is the eternal quest to become super special.  I wasn't noticed, so I will dominate some world until it is forced to notice me.  I don't think that drive is good or evil.  Its led to a lot of good in my life.  But I can see its potential for pain too. 

I like the idea of living with less even though I measure my success with dollars and houses and such like most of us do.  

But I've been wondering, maybe its possible for me to live with less on an emotional plane?  I think we all have good healthy needs to be heard, loved, etc..  thats fine.  All that can't be done away with without significant harm.

But what I mean is that maybe there are times when I am doing things out of order.  

I think there are times when I demand too much to do too little.  In the story of the enslaved Israelites, Pharaoh, the first ever dick boss, tells the slaves that they will no longer be given straw to make bricks for the endless building they are doing in their servitude.  The people's response was naturally to be miserable.  

But in the modern era, some times I feel like I require too much straw for the bricks I'm building.  My recognition to work ratio gets out of whack.  I think the hunt for recognition is the nuclear energy that leads us all, but it has to be inside of a work ethic or you become a real bastard or a cry baby.  

Another way I've been thinking about emotional minimalism is the need to hold on to people, both those that represent good and bad times.  I've had a couple instances over the years where people I have thought I was cool with by chance revealed that they were very upset with me in some capacity.  When things like that happen, I'm always undone.  As much shit as I talk and as bold as I seem, I, in my soul, want to be liked.  I want to be understood.  I want people's idea of me to fit my idea of me.  

But the only problem is thats a control issue.  And its impossible.

 Also, I'm a work in progress.  I am navigating as best I know how at all times but like everyone, I need course corrections.  

But isn't holding on to people you've been good to also a form of control?  I don't know. I do know that we use other people to remind us what kind of people we are.  I was good to this person so I must, in some way, be objectively good.

I think forgiveness is more than just letting go of the wrongs that have been done to you, or seeking out and making amends for the wrongs you have done yourself.  I think forgiveness is a way of moving through time so time doesn't move through and stick to you.  Like a blender you never use that follows you from new address to new address until your final yard sale.  

When I die, I want to die empty.  I want everyone who wronged me to go free.  I want to have held on only to what was making me better.  I want to allow some things to just be happy memories and feel no need to squeeze them into being more than what they were.  I want to be a rechargeable battery of good til the end.  And I"m going to sell my TV before I die so you assholes can't get it.  But if you do, enjoy it ;)

Everyone Gets To Be Happy

There is punchline funny, and then there is the unable to make this happen ever again, series of events funny.  One of the most situationally humorous things  that I've ever experienced happened to me on one of the worst days of my life.

It was 2011, my brother had been dead for about six months, and I was at a party with my ex wife. I noticed at some point in the conversation, that she and her girlfriend seemed like they had a secret that I didn't know about.  The next day, I told her that I had this weird feeling that we were over even though I did not want that, and asked her about her behavior with her friend.

She told me that she felt like we had been over for a while but wanted to give me a year after my brother died before she said anything.  

It was one of the most devastating things I've ever experienced.  Its one thing to not be loved, its another thing to have to Blues Clues it together.  It was also hard because my marriage was one of my sources of certainty.  The loss of it on top of the loss of my brother and family drama felt like an unraveling of everything I ever knew to be reliable.

Its the kind of thing that would go into the tapestry of my personal narrative forever.  Its funny how other people's words and actions get so much press in our story.  

As an older and wiser man, I have a sympathy for my ex wife that I didn't have in that moment or later.  I was never nasty to her (up until the bitter end I tried to be a fair and kind man), but I was hurt and hurt for a long time.  All my hurt aside, I can't imagine what its like to feel trapped by the demand of being a good person to stay in a marriage you feel like is dead.  Being rejected is death, having to reject someone you care about is a self inflicted injury.  I still think that all things being equal, I probably got off easier.  I also think I bounce back from tragedy well.  I see it as my one real gift.

The next day, I had to go to work.  I was tired from the late night conversation and deflated.  I was so sad that I could even relate to terrible danish pop songs.  Thats sad sad.

The day after work, I had one mission.  To walk around Copenhagen and grieve.  Walk is too nice a word, shuffle would be a better word.  I always drew energy from the sophisticated energy of the city.  The city is 1000 years old. It has seen and done everything, and I wanted to distract myself til my ears stopped ringing.  

The locus of my thoughts was this: I was nothing, I had nothing, and I was going to return to Charleston a 27 year old loser, and my ex was going to continue living her cool life with all her cool Copenhagen friends.  

What I didn't know, was that the weekend I was trying to walk around like a one man funeral procession had a direct conflict with the International Copenhagen Gay Pride Festival.  

At every cross street where I expected to be alone, there would be flat bed 18 wheelers full of leather daddy gay men throwing beads and dancing.  Flags, banners, crowds, people throwing out candy, it was a celebration.

It wasn't funny at the time, but looking back this was fucking gold.  

Its really hard to take your depression seriously when you see assorted member of the LGBT community doing the "I can't hear you" hand to a crowd before throwing candy at them.  

This story came back to me in the shower this morning.  I guess the thing that sticks out to me now is the fundamental flaw in my thinking: that she would get to be happy and I would not.  

I know this is a common fallacy, but that doesn't mean people are better at recognizing it.  

The truth is, the real truth is, that everyone gets to be happy.  Maybe not in the same ways as you once were, but yes.  Even you get to be happy.  Maybe every form of love or happy that I've ever tried to squeeze was trying to tell me something.  Maybe the pride parade was trying to tell me something.  In the midst of the letdown, there is always a party going on somewhere and you get to go.  

Whatever it is you want, the scariest and most exciting thought is that it is way closer than you think.  Get a baby sitter and go do an open mic.  Open up a god damn word document and start your book.  Maybe finishing it will make you happy, maybe it won't, but not doing anything is like grieving one penny at a time.  

Freeze Tag

I've been thinking about the game freeze tag a lot lately.  As silly as it sounds, its kind of profound.  One person is "it" and they chase the group, everyone knows that if you get tagged, you can't move.  Worse yet, you need one of your friends to come tag you so you can be unfrozen.  The game has no winner or loser and no end.  Its a constant chase.  

I think thats a beautiful metaphor for needing our friends, but the thought I've had lately is I want to learn to recognize when I am frozen.

 It happens sometimes. I get stuck, whether emotionally or habit wise.  I am by nature a pretty self reflective person.  I think its one of my strengths.  But there comes a time where you have to start moving your feet.  

Kids have the luxury of waiting for someone to tag them.  As adults, we have to learn to unfreeze ourselves.   

For me, I think this means that I can disassociate from how I feel and just take actions.  I don't have to be emotionally invested in cleaning my house, I can zone out and do it.  I don't have to be present when I am creating a comedy flyer, I can just do it.  

I am most miserable when I get stuck in the war room of my heart and I forget that there is an actual battle, filled with chaos and decisions.  Strategy is beautiful.  I'm always looking for ways to live better.  Maybe more than most, I'm aware of my mortality and I know everything ends.  I want to know what mistakes I'm making so I won't be dismantled by them unconsciously.  

But all that being said, you can't win if you don't play.  1 decision is heavier than 100 plans.   

Massachusetts

In 2012, I was re-immigrating to America after a 5 year odyssey in Denmark.  I was newly single, non religious, grieving my brother, and accepted to Berklee College of Music.  Life had taken some dark turns, but I was in the process of recasting myself.  I was planning on flying to Boston to continue my search for an apartment near the college, not to mention the need to get student loans straight.  

My best friend at the time was by chance also in Boston on his way to a wedding in Western Mass.  He suggested I come hang out with him for a couple days in the idyllic and small town of Shellburn Falls.  I agreed.  He picked me up from the airport in his pickup and we started driving the trafficky  road out of the city and into the curvy hills of the state.  

It was a very important moment in my life.  I had been gone so long that I was experiencing America as if for the first time, and everything was delightful.  The Keurig coffee machine in the place we were staying was a treat.  The collection of VHS movies under his friend's TV was delightfully antiquated, and not feeling the constant resistance to understand and be understood in Danish was gone.  

We crashed at a buddy's house that night, and hit the little main street area of the town in the morning.  It was right about this time that I realized that my friend had not planned anything and we had nowhere to stay for our second night.  This was kind of a theme with him, all bluster but no practicality.  

As we walked, we ran into a girl he used to know.  A petite friend of a friend, and we all agreed to wander together.  Absolutely lucky for him/me, this girl and I started to hit it off.  She was a local, and there is nothing more charming to a traveler.  The moving target loves a fixed point.  Opposites.

She very graciously invited us to crash in her family's barn that had been turned into an apartment.  It was musty, filled with odds and ends and low ceilings.  Part storage, part Cracker Barrell, part dorm room apartment.  We all sat on a couch together watching Adventure Time (which I had never even heard of).  As we watched, the "get the fuck out of here so we can make out" tension escalated in the room to where even my friend could sense it, and he retired early.

 It was fun between us and foreign.  This was one of the first girls I had kissed post divorce.  It was light hearted and intoxicating for both of us I think.  We were both unknown quantities to each other.  Emotional mystery beers that turned out to be pretty good.  

We spent the next two days together killing time in the town.  I skinny dipped for the first and only time in my life.  We sat in their local coffee shop, we window shopped, we made out all the time.  

One day, we sat on some river rocks eating sandwiches.   She asked me shyly, if I lived there, if I could ever see myself with her.  I think there is always a moment in a relationship where someone tells the truth and it feels like time stands still.  I have a terrible memory some times, but I remember how her face braced itself as she asked and as I answered.  

Without thinking and without hesitation, I told her the truth.  That after what I had been through, I couldn't take the idea of love with a straight face.  I told her everything she already knew.  I thought she was pretty and compelling and fun to be around.  But love, at that time felt like a prank that had recently been pulled on me.  And I was never gonna fall asleep at the party again.  Life had drawn dicks on my face with a sharpie once and I didn't want to have to scrub it all off again (I didn't say this part, but I think thats how I felt).  

I don't know what she wanted to hear.  I wasn't going to move, and neither was she.  Maybe everyone wants to know that they have mass appeal.  That they could do better or not even better, maybe just different.  

The last night I was there, we didn't stay in the barn, we stayed in her room (my friend stayed in the barn thank god).  It obviously hadn't changed much since she had graduated college, all posters and DIY art.  That night, we watched Forrest Gump on VHS (what the fuck is up with all these VHS's in this town?).  

I've seen that movie a million times.  I loathe people that do impressions from that movie.  Its one of those films thats so ubiquitous its hard to enjoy it.  But that night, it went right through me as I laid there next to her.  Forrest coming home to the south after all his love and lost.  Finding a place for himself.  Better and worse for wear.  A good hearted ignorance moving through complicated times.  It all hit home for me.  

That night we made love and it was something unique.  It was as if we both were at peace for one night.  Like we agreed to pretend that this moment was one of a long sequence with each other.  One page in a book of love.  She rubbed my back and I fell asleep dreamless.  

I don't remember saying goodbye to her.  I know she would not have made me happy.  It wouldn't have worked out.  I looked her up years later, she had kids and a different life.  I was happy for her.  

There is no moral to the story.  Maybe just that the people who witness the moments that make us have no obligation to see how it all plays out.  You can't hold on to everyone.  It wouldn't serve you if you do.

But I think there is a correct amount of reverence for the people who were beside you, albeit briefly when you changed.  Even if it was only a small change.  

If you don't have to, don't look

On a daily and sometimes hourly basis, I take a sick amount of pleasure in looking at my phone.  Part of it is I am trying to build my own little kingdom.  I want to be a pro level comic/entertainer one day, I am running a company, and I want to exert my sense of humor, my positive energy, and all my love as far as it will go into the universe.  All that is fine.

But most of the content I take in is dumb, irrelevant bummer shit that in no way helps me.  In fact, it probably waters down my purpose.  

I just had one of the most successful weekends in my life.  I did two things that I saw as kind of beyond me.  I won a legit hard Jiu Jitsu tournament in the old man division and I got a glorified extra part on a TV pilot (anyone who works in the film industry knows that this probably isn't hard and definitely isn't a big deal, but for me, admitting that I want to do things like that and going for it was a big deal).  

After being on set for a TV show, then going to a tournament, then going to fucking Harry Potter world, my heart was just full.  I drove back home, laid on my couch, and immediately starting scrolling through my phone and feeling worse by the second.  

I caught myself and went out with friends instead, but I now how a new motto.

If you don't have to, don't look.  

Heres what I don't mean:  I don't mean I will run from my problems, or the worlds problems.  There are many things that deserve not only our attention but our money and action.  We all have to collaborate to solve the pain points of life for ourselves and others.  

But that is absolutely not what I am doing most of the time.  I'm watching people I don't even know well bitch about their transmission, or McDonalds fight videos, or judging people I don't respect.  

Also, I suspect that the majority of what goes on on Facebook helps almost no one.  True help, love, or activism takes more than just likes and hearts.  

Another thing I don't mean, is becoming that one guy at the dinner party that gets a boner when he sees everyone pull out phones because now is his chance to roll his eyes at millennials or whatever.  That guy is unaware that he is 80% the reason that I want to look at my phone.  Its the 2018 version of playing dead. 

My current premise is that if you are obsessive about looking at your phone like me, its probably because you should be creating things.  You are scrolling to avoid the pain of creating.  Its ok to decompress, its ok to be mindless, but my goal is to make those periods smaller and get back to sharing whatever I have to give in this world before the end.  

When I die, I want my face to crash into a microphone, a loved one's arms,  a Jiu Jitsu mat, or maybe some titties, but definitely not my dumb fuck phone.  

De Evige Tre (The eternal 3)

Every person I know that is interesting has some kind of figure in their past, a love that went wrong for any combination of reasons both internal or external.  I'm always fascinated by these types of stories.  Who you loved and lost or gave up is like a core sample of a tree.  It shows the years, the growth, and the distance from the surface.  

My version of that is a girl that lives in Europe.  Anyone that knows me has heard me blab about it.  I met her at my own going away party when I was leaving Denmark for good.  After coming back home, I flew to NYC to hang out with her.  We fell in love and just wandered the city drunk on it.  When she left, she wrote lyrics to a Leonard Cohen song on a note and snuck it into my book bag.  I cried when I read it.  

The context was that I was coming back to life after losing everything that made me feel certain.  My marriage, my religion, my brother Bradley.  All gone in 1 year.  I felt like I died and was reborn as a new person that even I didn't know yet.  It was terrifying and also endlessly interesting.  I finally had the freedom to chose what was me and what was programming.  

Meeting her made a big impact because I think she was kind of an emotional futurist.  She saw me 5 years down the road.  And at the time when I was living in my mom's house starting a business from zero because my dream college rejected my student loan application.  Her faith in me was disproportionate to what I felt I was at the time and it was the antibiotics I needed at the time to be great.  

We broke up because I think in some way I was afraid of disappointing her.  She wanted me to come back overseas and live with her and start again.  I was so afraid of becoming her loser couch boyfriend.  She was so connected, she was a great and respected artist herself, I didn't want to become the guy she became slowly and painfully less attracted to.  It was a pivotal decision for me.  I hurt her with it, and I hurt myself, and I also think it was right.  

She was and is very understanding, and her take was that I needed to be rewarded for the confidence I had built up since where I started.  

Somewhere, impressing her became my mandate.  Impressing is the wrong word.  Making something worthy of her faith in me.  I know that sounds unhealthy, but it worked like a fucking charm.  There was some kind of nuclear energy that got into me from it.  I think being loved does that.  It makes us brave.  

I never forgot her.  And the last time I was over there I went to see her.  I was simultaneously afraid and hoping that she had changed.  That she was colder, or distracted, less engaging or not as attractive to me.  I was sorely disappointed.  I walked into her apartment and I had the uncanny feeling that I had walked into the mental image of her that i had held in my head for three years.  

As we talked, I learned that she had suffered a big break up.  The guy she met after me and her had just ended things and she was a raw nerve.  I felt bad for piling on, and I was also delighted to see her.  

We kept talking after i went home, and I told her how I felt.  Honest to a fault, she told me that the way I feel towards her was how she felt towards her most recent ex.  It was hard to hear and also so honest that it commanded its own respect. 

She told me about a song written by a Danish songwriter named Anne Linnet.  The song is called De Evige Tre which means the eternal three.  

The first verse says:

"there are two men in the world.  That constantly cross my path.  The one is the one I love, and the other is the one that loves me"  (its prettier in Danish).

And the chorus just simply says the eternal three.  

I hate and love that.  We are all someone's dead ideal.  The thing that joy would have sprung from.  The righted wrongs and the perfect fit.  And maybe not all but most of us have this ghost love.  This person that was good or evil to us that made us love them and we carry them with us long past the expiration.  

Recently I looked up the lyrics to the song and I was surprised by something.  The last verse has a really beautiful line that I had never heard.  

It says something to the effect of "once in 100 years the two (the one you love and the one that loves you) can melt into 1 person.  

Thats a very low probability, but it is still a probability.  I like that.  

I'm not looking for love, I have found it at times but I'm not looking.  I think my experience has made me emotionally available but impossible to bond to.  I'm not afraid of commitment, I know exactly what it looks and feels like.  I'm not afraid of vulnerability, I know that too.  I think part of myself is still waiting.  

Way more or way less

Sometimes people ask me for advice.  Its usually beginners in something.  Wanna try comedy, wanna do a podcast, wanna come do Jiu Jitsu.  My advice for beginners is always the same.  You're going to die one day, and the consequences of your actions for good or ill are way less important than your fear would have you believe.  Case in point, if you do stand up for the first time and you destroy the room, or walk the entire room, no one in the greater Charleston area will ever hear about it or care.  To me, insignificance is a super power.  If it doesn't matter, then the pressure is way way less.  Maybe thats just me.

Less frequently, people with skill or experience in a field will ask me for advice, usually because they are dissatisfied.  They have acquired some of what they want but there is a big gaping hole in their joy and little things bother them.  They are bored and stressed at the same time.  

If I know a guy in the gym who averages 1.5 hours a week of mat time and he's frustrated about how to get better, or a comic who has years of experience but isn't getting on the amount of shows they want, my favorite thing to tell them is to do way more or way less.  

Way more

Simple.  Start doing more reps.  Get on the road and do shows.  Create your own shows, write more jokes, make more friends, start a podcast, do comedy competitions. Go get the respect you think you deserve.  If they won't give it to you freely go become so good that you take it from them.  

Way less

Or fucking quit.  Maybe not quit comedy.  But at least retire from the business of expecting so much.  I think its important to remember that at every point you don't HAVE to do anything, not even breath.  You can stop anything at any time.  People do it all the time.  Its good to quit some things.  

People who know me know I used to have a podcast.  By local standards, it did alright.  But at some point I realized that i was never going to get out of it what I wanted.  I could have doubled down and started making youtube videos and knocking on more doors, but I was already bored. I felt like I wanted to save all that push for a different attempt.  So I did way less.  Way way less haha.  We killed my podcast in grand form with a funeral roast.  It was awesome.  

Comedy has taught me that my failed attempts are funny.  My nature is to reflect about everything, to take everything serious and over identify with things.  This is draining.  The up side is when I do go for things, I fucking gun it.  Even my failures are something to be proud of.  But because my vision of what I can do is so high, anything short of that feels like an L.  Being able to laugh at the times I have to do way less is cathartic to me. 

So maybe there is something there, do way more or way less.  

Theres a hole in everything

There’s a hole in everything.  There is an emotional inflation in the prices of everything we want.  $10 dollars sounded good until you have it, and then you realize that what you really wanted was about $11.15.  You’re not unhappy, you’re proud you got there.  But there is a lack of closure in goals and chasing big things.  There is no big thing that kills the hole.  It is in everything.  Because it is in every person. 

Growing up in church they say that every man has a God shaped hole.  That’s a beautiful theory.  Like everything working out for a reason.  And maybe they do.  But even those reasons have holes in them. 

In the old testament, other tribes often worshiped a fertility deity named Baal.  I heard once that one translation of that name is “god of the hole”. 

Obviously, it sounds like a sex thing.  But strangely, it sounds like a philosophy too.  We start our life coming out of one hole and we finish the race in another. 

Going in and out of holes is destiny.  It shouldn't surprise us.  And yet the lack in the middle of the life is the part I fear the most.  Growing up at times poor as a child, my worst fear was to not be full.  To not get enough.  As a man, I have the same fear maybe, but more sophisticated, more productive, better managed, but the same. 

Trying to get enough. 

I don’t think the answer is to stop wanting.  I don’t think the answer is to only be thankful.  I don’t think the answer is to just be mindful.  But for fucks sake the answer is also not one step ahead.  We all chase the next step because we are sequential beings. 

I don’t think the hole goes away.  I think it stays as a reminder that everything ends just like everything begins  Its only sad if you make it.  Holes are places of destruction, but they are also passages. 

There is a hole in everything and everyone and until you can see them you have nothing to say.

Show announcement: March 15th @Elliotborough Mini Bar with Sean Finnerty

I'm excited for this show because I get to see ole Irish Sean Finnerty do his thing again!  I had him on my long dead podcast a while ago and he was hilarious.  Come chill with us at mini bar and have a good time.  Show details below, or JUST BUY TICKETS RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

Also excited to welcome two NYC comics Aaron Naylor (Kansas City)  and Jeff Zenisek (L.A.) to the mini stage as well :)

Elliotborough Mini Bar's monthly comedy show is back again and as always we are matching up mini bar's built in good vibes with pro level stand up comedy.  Hosted by local comic Joseph Coker, Mini Bar might be the best stand up show in downtown Charleston.  This week, we have comics from Ireland, Kansas City, Los Angeles as well as hilarious local comedians.  We only have room for about 25 people so get your tickets while you can.  

This month we have three headliners joining forces to kick ass and make you laugh

Sean Finnerty, Aaron Naylor, Jeff Zenisek.

Watch a clip of Sean @ Gotham Comedy Club in New York

Also, you can get 2 tickets for $15 bucks, so this a great time to have a low stakes first date or a high stakes last date! 

Show starts promptly at 8, for more info and tickets, text Joseph at 843.870.0410

That time I (almost) signed up for a pyramid scheme

When I was a newly married young man, a friend of mine from church reached out to me about a "business opportunity".  By business opportunity, he meant a Multi Level Marketing company (MLM) that he was apart of called Quick Star.  It was like the early 2000's version of Amway.  At the time I was genuinely interested, I've always been interested in working for myself.  And what better way to start that bold journey then by sitting in a living room in Summerville and here someone say the word "downline" 100 times in 2 hours?

It would be a decade later before I realized that anyone offering you a "business opportunity" is 1. selling you a MLM like Amway, Herbalife, 2. making an ironic statement, or 3. trying to have sex with you for money.  

Sadly, when my friend said business opportunity, he only meant choice number 1. My friend was also a Christian, a very kind and charasmatic guy.  His wife made snacks, and everyone was kind of excited.  Everyone was also dorks.  Thats the thing looking back on MLM, its got this sharks and minnows vibes.  The room can be generally split into the kind of guy that sweeps out a Uhaul after renting it, and the guy who bangs your girlfriend the second you split up and before you split up.  

Anyways, one familiar face to the "party" was a guy I had never seen before who was in my friend's "up line".  Just like the mafia, in MLM, a portion of whatever you earn is kicked up to the person that brought you into the business.  And just like in vampire movies, the more people you initiate into this new lifestyle, the more they can introduce people to it as well.  

Mr. Upline guy and my buddy brought forth a dry erase board like it was the Rosetta Stone and hit us with all the cliche pitches of the MLM sales process.  If your seven friends tell seven friends, and that process happens X amount of times, soon the whole world would work for you in theory etc...

The most exciting moment was when Mr. Upline claimed to be making 40k a year from this business.  He of course did not substantiate that claim in in way, but damn 40 thousand dollars baby!  You know how many Game Stops you have to manage to make that?  Well one, but still!

I was pretty set on signing up, but I went home and talked it over with my new wife.  She looked at me like I was an asshole.  And even though I would get that look a lot, on this occasion, I can't thank her enough because she was right.  It was a terrible idea.  She put the kibosh on it and I had to go back to my friend and withdraw my support.  

As I got older, I became fascinated by scams and any place where one person is manipulating another.  MLM is notorious for this.  The vast majority, and I truly mean majority of people never make money from their business in MLM.  They come to meeting with dreams and good intentions, and end up loosing several thousand dollars and a couple years off their life.  

I remember him talking about all the stuff he was going to do once he was wealthy.  He wanted to make a coffee shop that paid musicians to perform and treated everyone well, and if it made a profit he was doing something wrong.  It was the early 2000's and coffee shops hadn't really hit in Charleston so it was a cute dream.  I feel bad for him when I think of it.  

Since then, I have had my fair share of dreams implode on me.  I know that pain, but I've never ever tried an MLM since then.  

The only reason this came to mind is because a friend of mine's spouse went balls deep into one recently and I was thinking how dumb he must be, how dumb I was, and how smart whoever is at the top of that pyramid must be.  

If you are ever tempted to get into an MLM, let me know.  I will buy a pressure washer and go door to door pressure washing people's houses (something I know nothing about).  We will see who makes their first 1000 dollars and who gets their first employee.

There are dreams to be had out there, but if someone is cutting the crust off the sandwich for you, chances are they spit in it first.  

Mini Comedy this Thursday with headliner Natasha Ferrier!

GET YO TICKETS HURR

My monthly comedy showcase at elliotborough mini bar is back this Thursday with great local comics and all the way from North Carolina the hilarious Natasha Ferrier!  

If you have never been to mini bar, expect a fun and intimate space with delicious wine/beer options, cozy vibes, and great standup!  

Featuring will be Shawna Jarrett, Sam Hendry and Stan Shelby!

As always, we only have 25 seats available in this venue so please book ahead of time.  

If you have any questions, please text Joseph at 843.870.0410

More on Natasha:

Natasha Ferrier overcompensates her short stature with her loud voice. Exploding with energy, her awkward charm will draw you in to her natural gift of story telling, revealing very personal tales of relationships, drinking, and getting older. She owns 11 pairs of bowling shoes.

Buy tickets

Good News! Charleston City Paper Now Only Owes me $100

Last month, I posted an article about City Paper owing me $250 dollars.  A lot has happened since then.  Here is what you might have missed.

+The blog post went everywhere and got mostly love from people which I appreciate.  

+A couple city paper employees produced very tiny sad violins and played the devil went down to "yeah well its a dying media and I hope you call out restaurants that mistreat people" Georgia (not sure if that is how the Charlie Daniels version goes or not).

+I got nominated again for Best Local Comic in the City Paper which is so goddamn funny.

+I got a check!  

+But mostly, the more people hit me up, the more validated I felt in rubbing their face in it.

 I had someone write me who was a single mom that had done work for the paper and is still owed $500 dollars, only to be told by City Paper that they don't plan on paying her because thats not what they have according to "their records".  

I think its adorable that they pretended like they keep records of who they owe.  Come on guys, lets not be too silly :)

Also adorable, after 24 hours of radio silence post original article, I got an email stating that a check was on the way.  I knew it would either 1. never come 2. be for the wrong amount or 3. Be for the full amount but be attached to the dead body of a loved one.  

Turns out it was Option 2.  I was given a check for $150, which is $100 short.  Apparently there is this real cool thing I've been doing where I made a payment plan for City Paper.  I mean, I didn't know I was doing it until the day the check arrived, but its still cool of me.  

I'm still fascinated by this whole fiasco.  I run my own business, this $100 dollars owed will not break me.  But this isn't about and never was about $100.  Its about tens of thousands that the City Paper allegedly owes to countless creatives who they have welcomed in when it came time to get free work from, then acted confused towards when the bill was due.  

City Paper is basically like the shitty couch boyfriend who is gonna hit you back as soon as their band takes off (just ignore the fact that they spent all their cash buying shots for other girls last night after playing to an empty bar).  Yes, its gonna work out, no, we're meant for each other.  He said so one time in his sleep.  

If you are reading up until now, I would like to enlist your feedback.  I am going to get that $100 one way or another.  I have already decided that I am willing to spend up to $1000 in legal fees to sue them in order to extract this $100.  Its the principle of the matter.  

Now, when I get that $100, what should I do with it?  Please share this blog and give me a suggestion for what to do with the money, best suggestion wins.  Dead Serious.  

Thanks everyone.  

Joseph 

Charleston City Paper owes me $250

In my neighborhood, I have a wizened old neighbor who is also a desperate alcoholic.  Despite his troubles, we always say hi to each other and sometimes I pay him to cut my tiny yard.  One day, he came to my door and asked me to borrow $50 dollars.  This is an old man, I like him, and I feel bad for his troubles.  I gave him the $50 bucks thinking that I will never see this money again but maybe it would help him.

Lo and behold, a week later, he shows up with the money down to the cent.  I was pleasantly surprised and he and I are friendly to this day.

What do this old alcoholic and The Charleston City Paper have in common?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Why?  Because my old wino neighbor can put his hands on $50 dollars when he owes it to someone, something the City Paper can't or won't do.

What am I talking about?

If you don't know me, my name is Joseph (hi!) I'm a comic/writer and kids Jiu Jitsu coach.  I wrote 5 articles for the City Paper last year, at least 2 of which were absolute bangers if I do say so myself :)

I was asked to do more writing because they wanted local contributions that were funny, and not just local politics or serious subjects.  I'd like to think most of my pieces are/were funny, but more importantly, they were popular.  Some got submitted for state level awards for humor.  Some of them garnered more attention than the next 5 other articles combined.

I got attacked in the comments by the white secessionist party of South Carolina, I got shown love and retweeted by CEO of Fazoli's, and rumor has it a local politician almost wrote a rebuttal to my piece about real estate because he didn't understand that it was a joke.  God, that would have been my ultimate success.

You would think with these tiny but verifiable successes that the City Paper would want to keep me and other contributors like me happy.  

You'd be wrong.

 Any time I have ever asked about money, I've always received replies that display how out of control the accounts payable department must be at the paper.  No. one. knows. when you will get your money.  They say 60-90 days, thats the official answer.  That btw is bullshit. If I was a creative person trying to live from my ideas, I would be discouraged by that.  Thankfully I am not relying on them.  

After 2.5 months of waiting and assurances from the editor (who for what its worth I do like and I wish I could work with more, I wrote the person in charge of payment at CP, Noel Mermer.   

(My first article came out Oct. 6th mind you, and I am writing him December 15th.)  

Mr. Mermer said "we have paid through July.  August will go out next week and sept the next.  Sorry for any inconvenience."

They hadn't paid people for work from the summer.  Holy shit.  When asked further about this, he said it was because and I quote "cash is tight".

Man, it must be so awesome to not have to pay your bills because you just having a rough month. Congratulations on that Noel!  

As I asked more and more former employees of City Paper, I learned that this is not only normal, but expected.  People who are on the payroll at city paper get paid as they should, and I am happy to hear that.  Many people who work at the paper are my friends, and I hate to say something bad about their employer, but they know this is true.  

The City Paper has a bad reputation for paying people, on time, or sometimes even at all.

How do they get away with it?

Well, most people are just happy to be writing for something.  I have to admit, in the beginning I was too.  It was exciting to throw my ideas out to a bigger audience and in a different way than my normal stand up comedy experience.  

But no one should be able to break a contract that they signed and not pay you for work you have done.  No one should be able to get away with that.  

Print media is a dying business, I get it.  Business is hard, I get it.  Big corporations take longer to pay out, I get it.  Fine with all of that.  But this isn't a one of thing, this is a habit, and you're either ok with them profiting off the work of people and lying about paying them or you are not.  

I know that this means the city paper may try to black list me or ignore events I'm a part of and I don't care.  This is some bully shit, and I loathe people who break their promises and I can not be bullied on this.  

If you think its not ok for the city paper to stiff its contributors, let me get a hell yeah, and a share would be nice.  

Ok, back to being funny.  

Show update: Minibar Comedy night starts off strong with John Gibson

Minicomedy is quickly becoming a favorite of the Charleston comedy scene.  Its a cozy space with great atmosphere ruined by comics making you laugh too hard into your fancy beer.  This month I'm excited to bring down one of the big guns of the Columbia scene John Gibson.  We have some great feature acts too, and I'll be hosting so you know the show will have some minor lower back pain right off the rip.  Only 23 tickets available, come on out next Thursday!

Get tickets and more info! 

Goal Setting for psychos like you (and me)

Last year was a biggun for me.  I'm proud of some of the highlights I had.  My kids Jiu Jitsu program was on the cover of the Post and Courier, I did an easy 60 shows (not including open mics) with comedy, and I made vast strides in my Jiu Jitsu training.  My income went up and my weight went down.  But somehow, I went through most of the year thinking I was somehow fucking up or missing the mark.  

Why?  Some of this is self inflicted.  As I have gotten older, I've recognized more and more of the ADD symptoms in the functions of my own brain.  I need pressure, because its the only thing that helps me summon myself and do great work.  

The crazy but inspiring sales guru Grant Cardone has what he calls the "10x rule".  The premise is that everything is harder than you think.  And overestimating is way more valuable than underestimating.  If you're trying to make 100k in 2018, you'd be better suited to aim at $1,000,000.  If you really want that $100k and you've never done it, you have to recognize that you are probably a bad guesser of how much work it will take to make it.  So aim at $1,000,000.  Only then will you summon the proper amount of energy and action to get what you want.  

This makes instant sense to me.  Its how I structure things for myself and is one of the ways I get leverage over my unruly mind.  The problem is this can also be a miserable way to live.  Writing down every day that you are going to make $1,000,000 when you have $800 bucks in your checking account can have a reverse effect where you actually start feeling so far from your goal that it repels you and you give up.  

This is where many people's goal plans fall apart.  And this is where I think I made myself miserable a lot last year.  Most people will try, then either give up on goal setting or scale them back to a point that is uninspiring and give up again.  

Here is what I have learned from last year and what I hope to do for myself in 2018.

Russian stacking dolls, imagination, and micro bites.  

Russian stacking doll

Lets use the $1,000,000 target which I have never even come close to but love to reach.

If I was trying to make a million, I would write it like this: This year I made $100,000 ($1,000,000).

I write down the attainable if I work hard target, but I put it right next to the big time goal.  A Russian stacking doll is a large doll comprised of smaller ones.  I think goals are the same.  

Imagination

This is old school Tony Robbins shit but still helpful.  If you are trying to achieve anything, its probably not for the thing itself but the way it will make you feel.  He prescribes practicing the feeling of what hitting that goal will feel like.  This sounds silly, but its a way to engage your emotions in what can become a stale mental exercise.  Try it and see how you feel.

Micro bites

If you want to lose ten pounds, writing that down every day is ok, but you also need to plan and be accountable for the humble actions that will produce that big result.  You can't lose ten pounds today, but you can go for a run.  You can't go down a dress size, but you can eat a clean lunch.  Small bites.  

My hope for myself this year is not to slow down, but to make a more livable environment in my head and heart.  I want to move at the same speed, but I don't want my car to be filled with emotional trash.  Like my real car, which is where Burger King cups go to die.  Thats another year's goal.  

Last Mini bar show of the year this Thursday!

Hey friends!  Our last mini comedy show of the year is this Thursday and we are going out with a bang.  Come laugh off your Christmas stress with us!  

Buy tickets here

https://www.josephcoker.net/store/mini-comedy-the-biggest-little-showcase-on-earth-127

More info?  Text Joseph 843.870.0410

When

Thursday @8:00 p.m.  

Elliotborough Mini Bar - 18 Percy Street

What

Mini Comedy is the funniest and most intimate stand up comedy show in Charleston.  Each week we bring you pro comedy club level performers to the cozy venue of Elliotborough Mini Bar in downtown Charleston.  Come out for delicious wine and beer options, a relaxed atmosphere, and a 90 minutes of laughs.  

Who

Hosted by Joseph Coker

Featuring: Kevin Williams, Shawna Jarrett, and Vince Fabra!

Headlining this weeks show will be Ian Aber!  

Ian Aber is a comedian, writer, actor and show producer based out of Atlanta, Georgia. He's been a featured performer and host at The Atlanta Improv and Laughing Skull Lounge and accepted into the Orlando Indie Fest Comedy Festival, Scruffy City Comedy Festival and Laughing Skull Festival. Ian was recently a finalist in NBC’s Stand UP For Diversity talent infusion program and will be a part of NBC’s NACA tour in 2016. He is the producer and creator of Surrogates, an interactive comedy show where audience members tell jokes on stage acting as surrogates for offstage comedians. His comedic style highlights the absurd in even the most serious of subject matter. "He's funny," whispered the person you trust the most.

Mini Bar show 11/30th featuring Blayr Nias

More info?  Text Joseph 843.870.0410

When

Thursday @8:00 p.m.  

Elliotborough Mini Bar - 18 Percy Street

What

Mini Comedy is the funniest and most intimate stand up comedy show in Charleston.  Each week we bring you pro comedy club level performers to the cozy venue of Elliotborough Mini Bar in downtown Charleston.  Come out for delicious wine and beer options, a relaxed atmosphere, and a 90 minutes of laughs.  

Who

Hosted by Joseph Coker

Featuring: Shawna Jarrett, Vince Fabra, Sarah Napier, Hagan Ragland, and Ryan Van Genderen

Headlining: Blayr Nias

Blayr is a powerhouse of comedy in the south east.  She has opened for Kat Williams (thats right, Kat fucking Williams) and Marc Maron and worked with other stars like Ralphie May and DL Hughley.  She is constantly touring in doing clubs, corporate events and festivals.  Her manic and hilarious energy is matched only by her playful and dark sense of humor.  Miss this show only if you don't enjoy laughing.  

Mini Bar show for 11/16 featuring Art Sturtevant!

More info?  Text Joseph 843.870.0410

When

Thursday @8:00 p.m.  

Elliotborough Mini Bar - 18 Percy Street

What

Mini Comedy is the funniest and most intimate stand up comedy show in Charleston.  Each week we bring you pro comedy club level performers to the cozy venue of Elliotborough Mini Bar in downtown Charleston.  Come out for delicious wine and beer options, a relaxed atmosphere, and a 90 minutes of laughs.  

Who

Hosted by Joseph Coker

ft. Warren Holiday, Zack Kennedy (Columbia), Ryan Easterbrooks (Savannah), Shawna Jarrett (Charleston)

This week our headliner is Art Sturtevant

Art's a smart, funny comic with the interests of a 20-year old and the body of a middle-age man. His observaions on pop culture, being a father and how you can change so much and so little over the span of decades have cracked up audiences all over the East Coast. 

Art Sturtevant has performed at Laughing Skull, Comedy Zones, Side Splitters, The Laugh Your Asheville Off Comedy Festival, and -- back in the day -- NYC's Comedy Cellar, Catch a Rising Star, Sweeps and Triple Inn. Art's a contributing writer for Asheville Disclaimer, a weekly satire publication.