Favorite Things of Last Week (10/02/2016)
Usually we start with some half-hearted snapshot of the life I’d like you to believe I lead. This prelude actually provides the spine. My favorite thing framed my whole week. I saw Marcella Arguello headline a line-up of her nearest, dearest at the NerdMelt. I took my brother, he really enjoyed himself. I enjoyed that I no longer resent him, that we’re becoming brothers on a more spiritual level, and that I got to hear every comedian gasp at how similar we look, how strong my dad’s genes were.
A Marcella hour is always compelling because she’s typically poised and promotes this goddess of war energy when winning the Internet or opening for Felipe Esparza or doing ten minute sets around Los Angeles. But in an hour, Marcella can morph from bombastic conqueror to serenely humble. She did the other night: closed expressing relief for grace, regaled a story with LGBTQIA+ hierarchy, a brawl, a bedazzled pussy, knowing when to cut out when 5-0 comes through, before, ultimately, advocating we all take care of each other. No big joke, no forced call back, just sincerity.
Every re-up in LA with someone from the Bay Area, someone I’ve lost touch with from my sabbatical or their preceding relocation, I have this innate fear they have forgotten me, or worse, severed ties, awkwardly placating the ghosted connection before breaking off to another person commanding their eyeline. Aside: if the world needed a new energy source, they’d look no further than the tattered threads of conversation between comics, all the interrupted and inconclusive real and petty gabs and riffs. A comedian gathering is like the model for an electron cloud: bouncing and chaotic but so hyped.
Comedians aren’t at fault for my chasm. Comics are in their own orbit, their own reality, working hard every night, usually in solitude. I withhold from requesting or requiring their time, their attention because I know the the truth too well. Closeness is only relative to shared space. Even with best intentions and hard work, unless you have a show together or live together, you can go months without seeing a “best friend” or “favorite person”.
But, as everyone trickled out and vied for our headliner’s attention, Marcella, bless her heart, looked happily surprised to see me, clowned my outfit and invited me to where everybody was getting a night cap. Felt like old times.
I declined in my anxiety, shock, hyper-nervous sleepiness, my overwhelmed, crossed-circuit confusion. All week I’ve questioned, lamented why I didn’t accept the offer. Still don’t know. Why didn’t I go? Will there be a second chance?
And now, words.
