Since August of 2015 I've made it goal to perform at least twice a week on any stage I could find. Having a full time job outside of L.A. makes weeknight outings hard. Starting out, I had no idea what I was doing and what the comedy scene entailed. I felt like one of those girls from Kansas who just got off the bus in a Hollywood cliche film. But I was born in Los Angeles, so ironically I felt like a stranger in my own neighborhood. 

So far I've performed in established clubs like Flappers, The Ice House, Ventura Harbor, and Shakey Town Live. I've performed with Christopher Titus, Tom Segura, Bert Kreischer, The Sklar Brothers, Joey Diaz, and many other top LA and national headliners. 

I've performed at fun little bar shows like JJ's Bar & Grill, The Arena, The Junkyard, Mojito Pete's Cuban Lounge, Infusion and Groundworks Coffee in Hollywood. Sure the sound systems weren't always the best, and I might have left Groundworks in complete dismay after a terrible set of piercing eyes sat still not even responding to my jokes, but I didn't know what an open mic at a coffee shop was like or should be. Kind of like when I go on a date. Lost and confused and frustrated are three words that come to mind. 

The first open mic I did was two days into my comedy career. I got booked for my first show earlier that afternoon by email, and on pure hopeful adrenaline decided to attend an 11:30pm Friday open mic show. About 50 comics put their name in a bucket. One guy told me he never got pulled in four weeks. WTH? I was pulled up at 12:30am. I was exhausted. I tried a terrible Donald Trump joke and an even worse joke about being 33 years old. All hacky jokes without point of view. I broke the first rule of comedy: I tried to be funny instead of truthful.  

Not. One. Laugh.

I almost quit there. Then I went on my first booked show, got some laughs, and decided it wasn't me, it wasn't the audience, it was just the roll of the dice. Laughter is not explainable and involuntary. To this day the biggest gut laugh I ever belted was a dumb joke about a raccoon biting a man's penis. "Good for you, raccoon," was the tag. That hit me hard for some reason. Then I heard Louie CK say the same thing in an interview about a parody song of "Dock of the Bay." 

That made me feel better. I'm not the only guy who can't understand my own sense of humor. 

I watched interviews with Patton Oswalt and heard him talk about bombing and being booed and even having an old black man heckle him in the most kind and respectable way ever.

Even the greats have bad shows and bad nights. 

That brings me to my point about open mics. Last night I performed in booked show/open mic. It was a small turn out. It was the first night of the format. But after "the show" was over we still had over an hour to chill in the room. So a few comics got up there and we mined for material. The six to seven of us questioned each other and found anger, frustration, sadness, jealousy, and humor.

It was the best open mic I've ever been to. Not because it was that funny or because I got a laugh. It was because a handful of up and coming comedians and one hot girl (the only girl too btw) in the audience started supporting each other. We gave tags and call back suggestions. We helped take what was void and without shape and gave light to the creation of a bit.

It was refreshing and good for the comic soul. 

I'll still go to open mics. I'll bomb. I'll get a few laughs. But I know that my audience isn't really 21-30 year old male comics, with a handful of brave females willing to sit with us disgusting males.

I'll make friends. I'll make apathetic enemies too, I'm sure. Open mics are a necessary evil, no doubt, if I want to get some type of stage time on weeks I'm not booked, if I want to hear my new jokes out loud, and if I want to learn to not sweat the small stuff. Learn is the word of the moment. 

But...BUT...BUT...what I'd like to see more of is something more constructive. Something where the open mic crowd doesn't just sit back on their phones and listen intermittently.

Flappers has a Flapper's University Mic for students that provides feedback, but that's just one time a week. 

So here's a challenge to any comedian who decided to read this entire bloated and self-righteous article: At the next open mic, pull a comedian aside, tell him or her good job or hell, give her or him a tag, and in the process we will all benefit because we all got a little better by being a little more aware of the world around us, instead of the world within us.