May 29th, 2025- it’s 19 years since my first open mic at the Boiler Room, under the kind tutelage of Kevin Michael-Moore. I met Richard Bain (rip) that night, and Kyle Harbert, and Jimmy Newstetter. They were all my close friends, who shaped my comedy.
Six years later, I moved to LA.
I did a couple thousand shows. I met thousands of people. Some of them became my friends.
I learned that when you go to a party, you have to get other people to take pictures with you. Otherwise, you’re going to see Instagram posts that make you feel like nobody likes you.
I learned that it was way better to go to shows and say hi to bookers than it was to do open mics. LA open mics are the worst places in the world, including El Salvador prisons. There’s fifty dudes in dirty hoodies who want to tell their rape jokes and hit their vapes. You won’t see any of them ever again.
I learned that you have to ask to be on shows. You have to work hard. You have to have good photos. I got good advice. I got bad advice. I got to work with my heroes. I developed something like discipline. I got an agent. I got a manager. I booked a couple small things.
But I wasn’t really getting what I wanted, which was more visibility in comedy. I wanted to do stuff in Hollywood that would make it easier to book a headlining gig in Peoria, IL.
I did more shows. Gradually, I did better shows. I got asked to do stuff.
And then, doing comedy and working full time, I was too busy to go out on auditions, so I stopped.
There is no reason to live in LA if you’re not auditioning, or sending packets for the last three writing jobs. It was time to leave.
I realized that what was keeping me there was the judgement I had for other people who had left.
Here’s what I learned. LA can get you acting gigs. All kinds. All kinds of commercials, which only really lead to other commercials, despite what the agencies tell you. Keep in mind that they make their money from you booking commercials.
I learned that the noise and busy-ness and the pecking order of comedy shows will distract you from the fact that it’s a hamster wheel. You’re trying to impress other comics.
The relationship between acting gigs and comedy goes the other way- doing more acting gets you more comedy spots. Doing comedy doesn’t usually lead to anything but doing more comedy.
Is there NO-ONE who has EVER gotten a career-changing job from a bar gig? Probably there is someone. Are you going to do a show with someone who’ll take you on the road? Maybe! And then you can come back and tell everyone about it. If someone famous really likes you and works with you consistently, that can make your career, absolutely.
If you want to act or write for other people or make TV or movies, LA is definitely the move. But it doesn’t really make a stand up comedian famous anymore, if it ever did.
The clubs will have you down to do their mics and eat food and drink drinks and pay tabs. if you’re consistently good, you will have the opportunity to host an 11:45 PM show in the main room on a Tuesday every other month. That feels really cool. But comedy clubs don’t really make comics. They book comics who are already made. When will your name get on the wall? When the 500 people more famous than you die.
Everyone wants to find the button to press that will create their career and find their audience, but that’s something we need to do on our own. Hollywood doesn’t, and increasingly, can’t do that for you.
Hollywood got a good look at me and said, hey, thanks for coming.
So I’m glad to be back, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to perform and continue to grow. I joke about being a failure onstage, but I’m not a failure. I just didn’t book TV or writing work. And that’s really ok! I mostly just wanted to do comedy, which I am, and I do, and I can, and I will.
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