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a change of address of sorts

1 Oct

Hello, well, I suppose things were getting dull and there were some new photos taken and I stumbled across a friend’s little website which looked quite beautiful. Accordingly, I’m leaving–or I have left already–this website right here for another. So far as I understand things, there’s no “follow” or “subscribe” function on the new http://www.davidheti.com, but, then, that’s maybe liberating, no? Chance, happenstance, kismet, etc., as opposed to the cold, hard, determinedness of things actually functioning the way you’d like. I suppose there’s always Twitter and a new Facebook page that’s really yet to be set-up or figured out as to how it should be used, but, we’ll meet again. And, thanks so much for being here! Sincerely.

Also, I apologize to my father for the new website type. I understand that it may be difficult, impossible to read.

xos,

David

From stuck way too long on the subway

21 Sep

It doesn’t seem fair to me that I should have to go to New York–where there’s just so much noise, and pollution, and garbage, and misery, and sickness, and poverty, and shit–to be best able to tell the world just how shitty it is.

get it.

It just doesn’t seem fair to me.

Schlemiel Theory Interview

12 Sep

Schlemielintheory.com was kind of enough to ask me some very difficult, probing questions on stand-up, comedy and both Jewishness and schlemielness. Menachem Feuer, the man behind all that is schlemiel, has nice and high degrees in both Philosophy and Comparative Literature and teaches and writes on all sorts of questions.

Take a look at not only the interview, but his entire site. Super interesting stuff.

What Went Wrong With Last Night’s Show E08 cont.

12 Sep

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 What Went Wrong E08.

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.

I Have a Problem, With David Heti: Episode VI

27 Aug

This is the episode I’ve been the most uncomfortable releasing. This is the conversation which has made me both feel the worst and come off looking the worst, I believe. My guest is artist (especially painter) Margaux Williamson. As always, your share-rating-subscribing helps makes this happen. xo

Download or subscribe with iTunes

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Morning

19 Aug

There’ve not been many entries for the last little while on account of not having anything to say. There are periods when there’s little or no desire to put anything out into the world and it’s these times which make you wonder why you ever started saying anything to anyone not immediately in front of you.

The need to constantly produce is a bit shit. But you put yourself into that kind of a trap and I suppose you’re creating constantly one way or the other in any way. There are few people more miserable-looking than those on the streetcar commute at nine in the morning. The homeless people on the streetcar at nine in the morning look maybe horrific—though horrific for-the miserable-looking commuters; not necessarily for-themselves—but still there must be a middle ground.

Better sunglasses.

A younger body.

Cleaner sheets.

More time off.

Better coffee.

Better, more readily available sex.

Fewer givings a shit about what society or others want or expect of you.

Warm weather.

That sweet coconut bread.

New thoughts, a little more or deeper understanding of whatever you studied in undergrad.

These are the things you can work toward. Could you imagine if you did everything you did for just these things? Every shoelace purchased and tied and retied and repurchased? Countless times and then eventually you get tired of your sunglasses anyway. Maybe you get a second pair. But after the first coffee of the day your coffee pleasures diminish as it is.

In his journals Gide wrote something about how ridiculous he feels about producing anything when there’s already so much shit in the world—either good or bad—but then again to his credit he wrote it in his goddamn journal.

But the next moment’s thoughts will be different.

I Have a Problem, With David Heti: Episode V

12 Jul

Recorded while on the road, a good friend from the law is happy to use all of his training in rhetoric to accuse me of whatever may not accord with his own world view. Social status, sex, money, party repartee. Anyway, it’s a great episode.

Find it here.

Here’s just a little tweet game/joke/experiment

24 May

Hello,

Whenever I get high I’m bothered to no little extent by my losing apparently quite effectively—so far as I can tell—my faculty of judgment. In particular, so much just appears to be so much funnier than I believe that I think, deep down, it must really be. (Indeed, there was one night last month when, finding myself laughing at *this?!?* terrible comic’s jokes, I just knew that I was just too far gone. It was a miserable and humiliating moment and I no longer wanted to be with myself. I stood up, walked out and went straight to bed.)

At the same time while high, however, I recognize that if it’s my capacity to judge which is brought into question, then this very questioning of my incapacity too must be brought into question, ad infinitum. And this is a terrifying understanding and/or/both misunderstanding.

So when I come up with little tweets that I think are fantastic, I’m loathe to actually tweet them on account of this self-doubt and not wanting to waste everybody’s time.* But, then, they in fact might be of value too.

Here, then, in reverse chronological order, is a collection of last night’s draft tweets while high. (I think only the one at the top of the list was actually sent out.) I think that a few are terrible, a few just appear to be terrible (and, thereby, I suppose, are terrible) and a few are great.

If you’d like, you could leave a little note or comment either below or with me listing the one(s) which you either most or least prefer, then I’ll maybe next time be better able to better identify which tiny and perhaps unfinished thoughts are of any quality in fact.

Ok, thanks!

*This too may be just a waste of everybody’s time. Yet presented in this context, it’s not the same. It’s not the same at all.

1. Hey, Gary #gofuckyourself

2. Tweeting about being a comic—life couldn’t be any better! [A comic actually tweeting about being a comic.]

3. Mama told me there’d be days like this threesome.

4. Nobody understands my tweets.

5. “You and Janey come back here anytime you like. You’re always welcome.” All I want to hear. Then I can die.

6. Never ask me about dipping sauce.

7. The immigrant men have all the best soups.

8. At 3:00, I will be tweeting my best joke ever.

9. I tweet to feed my baby. It’s the only way to feed my baby.

10. Let’s all start a tweet campaign to rally for the comics who didn’t get into JFL.

11. [To put on facebook] Always a pleasure trying out my tight JFL 5 at Not My Dog.

12. Always have a “Tropic of Cancer” “lying around”—panty peeler.

13. The sweet smell of success is a little like the sweet smell of poo.

14. Tonight in sports: somebody won.

15. Even if you’re looking for pants all day—*that’s* a day. [As in, every day’s precious]

16. “No more ass-to-mouth (ATM) shots—am I right ladies!!” [Female comic from that era]

17. Help, they’ve taken my wallet.

18. Being *paid* in beer is okay—being *ok* with it isn’t.

19. We’re *all* better off without forced goodbyes to our pizza-sellers.

20. When high, every thought’s like, “that’s a great tweet.” *That’s* the problem with marijuana.

21. My saved conditional tweets have explanatory notes.

22. Oh good, it’s not the employee with whom I had the misunderstanding who’s at the pizza shop.

23. Way too high to tweet.

24. Always present at the worst night of my life.

25. I am a part of the worst night of my life.

Ideally, none of this would be here

2 Sep

Perhaps the only kind of public presence I should hope to endorse would be that which does nothing more than apologize and make amends for its very being there.

Necessarily, by way of its continual failure to realize its impossible perfection, it justifies itself.

But, man must eat. By bread alone.

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