New Maria Bamford Show!!!

The Loves of My Life

Caveat: One word. One troupe. One love. Two years a go I created a this troupe with the hopes of doing the kind of improv that would make people stand up and take notice.

Today's Washington Post Express:



These guys are doing that kind of improv, and the world is taking notice. I'm overcome with pride and getting a bit misty, frankly. To all Caveat members - past, present, future - thank you for making one of my dreams come true.

Shut up, I know I'm being such a girl.

Crazy Genius

So, another name to add to my list-o-comedic-inspiration is Maria Bamford. This chick is bananas (seriously, she is), and one of the most talented comics I've seen.



I think the fearlessness it takes to wrestle your demons in public, using the medium of humor, requires a certain level of madness. The kind of madness that makes you sane.

"Oh, go home!"

I've been introspective as of late, and began to wonder why it is I do what I do. You know, why I do the comedy thing. And why it matters so much to me, that I take it so seriously.

Then I became reminded of these comedians, who happen to be women (I'll save you my rant on women in comedy), who have had such a huge impact on me. I cannot think of "comedy" or "comedic genius" without considering them, their body of work, and their contribution to the world of comedy. Of course there are more women and men that have influenced me, but these guys rock my world.

When I grow up, I want to be like...



(L-R: Lucille Ball, Lilly Tomlin, Whoopi Goldberg, Tracy Ullman, Carol Burnett, Gilda Radner)

I'm So Deep

Today we're supposed to "fall back." Which means we gain an hour by setting our clocks back one hour. It's one of those funny little, necessary things that we created so that we can literally make the most of our days here on earth.

Clocks changing, is just one of the symptoms that the seasons are changing. A symptom that the world is cycling through a ritual, billions of years old, of dying and rebirth. Being residents on this planet, connected to this planet, I can't help but think that each of us goes through this dying and rebirth at the same time. Resisting this change, this habitual inclination to let go of things and to allow those things in our lives to die, stunts our growth. Turns us into emotional midgets. (Sorry, "little people.")



As I set my clocks back this year, I'm reminded this cycle. I'm reminded of the things in my life that I let go, and the beautiful things that came into replace them. I'm reminded of those things in my life whose time has come, and that it's time to say goodbye. I'm reminded of the things in my life that I should have let go, and didn't. And I'm curious as to what would have come in to replace them - and I wonder if it's too late.

Bottom line, it's time to make the most of my days here on earth. Fall back, move forward. Turn, turn, turn.

Good Gets Better

I'm going to talk about Into the Wild again. And no I'm not sleeping with Sean Penn...anymore.

(Call me, Sean. You at least owe me that.)

So there was a scene in the movie between Chris McCandless (a.k.a. Alex Supertramp) and the gramps (Ron Franz) on a hillside in California. It's been four days since I've seen this movie, and this exchange is still on my mind:

(I'm paraphrasing)

Ron: I think I'm doing OK. I've made a life for myself and its pretty good.
Alex: That's nice, but good gets better.

Spread that on a piece of toast, chase it with some orange juice, and then go touch yourself. Cause it's just that good.

As I journey down the road less traveled (big ups to my man Robert Frost), I have witnessed so many take the nearest exit, and settle. They all look happy, well adjusted and at peace with their decisions. They've made a life for themselves, and it looks pretty good.

But I'm a firm believer that good DOES get better, if you follow through.

I can't tell you how many times on this trek that I've been tempted to pull over and set up camp on the corner of Get A Husband and Pop Out A Baby. I can't tell you how many times I've convinced myself that I'm a fool for thinking I can be successful at this "artistic thing." And I can't tell you how many traps, disguised as opportunities, that I've fell into over the years.

But what I can tell you, is that despite all of that, I'm still on the road. I'm still moving forward. And I'm still determined to see "better." One foot in front of the other.

Sometimes, I'm even too deep for myself.

Where does improv fit in?

Performance Hierarchy (courtesy of Family Guy)

1. Legitimate Theater
2. Musical Theater
3. Stand-Up
4. Ventriloquism
5. Magic
6. Mime

“The only thing you live to regret are the risks you didn't take”

Sometimes the hardest thing in the world is to say no, when all you want to do is to say yes.

Improv Viagra

Those that know me, know that I'm a bit of a control freak. I enjoy getting things done my way, and getting them done right (not mutually exclusive). Improv for me is a way to let go. I let go of the reigns and give myself over to a medium where there perfection does not exist, where the stakes are huge, and where I can be myself. This not only humbles me, but it challenges me to learn and grow as a performer, and as a person.

And boy, was I humbled last night at rehearsal.

I was frustrated, not in the usual, "God, why am I still performing with these people," sense, but in the "I've forgotten how to do this, " sense. There were many factors that contributed to my feeling like walking and talking were just too much to ask. And I suspect my recent sleep-deprivation binge had something to do with it.

My wheels were spinning trying to find traction in the scene work, but could never make contact. And while there was a large part of me that just didn't give a damn (the sleepy part), a bigger part of me was concerned that I lost my mojo. Usually improv can invigorate me and give me a second wind, but not last night.

Last night, improv wooed me. It hit all the usual spots that can get me off: a good solid warm-up, good attendance, and starting on time (Oh, yeah. I'm freaky like that). Everything was seemingly in place. I should have been able to slip into scenes, commit and get my improv rocks off for the night.

But nothing happened.

I felt like a spectator, rather than a participant. In the middle of a scenes I'd think to myself, "What am I doing? I've done this before, right? How do I edit scenes again? This isn't fun." (Talk about being in your head).

I finished rehearsal without achieving an improvgasm. It was just plain awful, not to mention unsatisfying. The amazing (and slightly masochistic) thing is that it's rehearsals like this that make me love improv all the more.

This is an art form whose ceiling gets higher with every rung of the ladder you pass. The trick is to keep climbing. Because, while there is never any mastery, the view of world from up there is effing amazing.

Walking the Line

The most powerful feeling in the world for improvisers is when a wave of laughter, that we've created, crashes onto the stage where we're performing. The toughest thing for improvisers to do is to let that wave wash over us, maintain the integrity of the scene and stay connected to one another - virtually holding on for dear life.

Time and time again, I see improvisers (new and old) make the decision to let go of the scene, forsake their scene partner and fruitlessly try to make waves alone. And time, and time again, I see improvisers (new and old) drown.

To the untrained eye these deaths are laughable, enjoyable even. However, they make me want to swim in a pool of poop, and dry off with an AIDS towel while being sodomized by Carrot Top.

The thing is, even the best improviser may loose her balance when the wave - that beautiful, life-affirming wave of laughter comes crashing down on her. But as improvisers our commitment to the scene, and our scene partners has to outweigh the impulse to jump ship. Our commitment has to serve as our anchor when the waves get rough.

The thing is, I truly believe that by being steadfast, the ever elusive improvgasm can be achieved. Just stay in the moment, breathe, relax and it will happen. It's worth it. Trust me. This one time I had an improvgasm so hard, I blacked out and woke up on the other side of the fourth wall.

Fa-dud-dud-dud-dud...