The Fast Pitch

I’m glad to report that my life has become far less complicated now. Maybe it’s the fatigue talking, but with everything the way it is, life just seems easier to process these days. Simply put, in this brave new phase, I’m a wrting consultant by day, hopeful comedian at night, part time online writer and all the free time in between is spent either being a boyfriend or listening to the lamentations of people around me.

It’s like being in college again, only with a hell of a lot more financial concerns. So far, this year, no completely bad days have come across my path, but the whole “or die trying” bit of my usual soliloquy seem to be manifesting itself.

Whatever.

The New Job. The writing consultant gig so far seems very ideal. I get to procrastinate as much as I can, then basically spend my weekends catching up on work. It does work for me, despite the fact that I’ve yet to master doing all of this effectively. I’ve met some very interesting people, one of which gave me an eerily accurate reading on the shift of zodiac sign. “You used to be the very definition of a Capricorn”, said the woman who has spent a grand total of two hours and a few odd minutes in the two weeks I’ve spent working, “but now you’re a Sagitarius. You are looking for the ideal thing. You look for happiness and stability, but if it’s not ideal, you’re more than willing to walk away from it. You are a passionate free spirit. This search began for you in 2009. Everyone started mutating in 2009.” Direct quote, I shit you not.

When asked if I would last in this current job, I gleefully replied, “We’ll see.” We will now, won’t we?

Standing Up in The South. The past two weeks have been spent mostly with the head of the Sheltered Sons, my fellow comedian who I would soon discover is even more neurotic than I am. Our lives have been intertwined a bit due to a common purpose of bringing our brand of comedy down South, and I’m glad our interactions have somehow evolved into a new, working sphere for me to live in. God knows after everything I’ve been going through, a brand new sphere where a brand new me in this brand new place is greatly needed.

So off we went, meeting with a person who was going to hook us up with a bar owner that would allow us to use his bar as a weekly venue for our onstage antics. He, I will refer to him as The Salesman from now on, was working his magic, selling our comedy like it was the greatest thing to ever hit the South since rough accents and borderline alcoholism.

While he was doing his thing, I noticed the bored look on his girl’s face. He and the girl have shared years of non-committed mutual affection. The Salesman was reluctant to explore new ground, and she was waiting patiently. So I bought the girl a beer and we talked about it. She would casually look out the window and watch as the man she loved was doing the one thing he knew best; make a pitch.

So I told her a pitch of my own. “If I make it happen, you buy me a beer.”

Miracle in Makati. It wouldn’t really take long for me to have a chance to make an impact on this newfound friend of mine. As The Gadgeteer likes to keep on saying, I am “the magic man with the magic hands”. I make things happen. I’m not going to take full credit for that praise, after all, serendipity has always been on my side during times wherein I was on a quest to help someone out.

One Saturday, after a long day of working, I walked to the mall to look for toys, one of the many constant impersonal sources of comfort I have these days, and I bumped into the Salesman, all issued up and nowhere to go. So, logical thing to do was to go to the bar and have a beer. After but one mug of draft, we were exchanging battle scars, lurid tales of our psychological and emotional issues and that was when I realized that the Salesman was not just a means to an end, but a kindred spirit. So I did my thing. He was feeling kinda reckless, and I was there to tolerate every single crazy thought he had in his mind. From driving recklessly, to blowing wads of cash at the casino, I was there every step of the way. When he was at a point wherein his boundless energy seemed to have no other outlets, I convinced him to go the girl and finally tell her everything that he feels. He was afraid, he thought it was pointless, since it was doomed to fail, but I pointed out that after everything we’ve done that night, one more stupidly reckless thing would not really hurt. No day but today, I insisted.

So off to Makati where the girl was partying with her friends. He did his thing, which I’m pretty sure sounded like a pitch, and then boom. Salesman single no more. I feel the same kind of pride I used to feel when I was still trying to do the whole guardian angel thing back in college. After that, of course, the new couple and I did the town right. New lovers, the Makati skyline, noisy bars, karaoke and tequila shots. Just like the old days.

Incidentally, as the Salesman was landing his girl, The Gadgeteer sends me a text message thanking me for hooking him up with the Cheerleader. I casually mentioned my night’s goings on. He remarked, “maybe in saving others you save yourself?” Not anymore, sir.

I greeted the morning comforting a friend who called me. She apparently wennt on a little trip down the road of no return, and needed someone to talk her down. I know how she feels. I was happy to help.

Once, I used to embark to nights like this to somehow make up for past transgressions. These days, I just recognize a sense of responsibility. Of how when you’re put in a situation wherein you can make a positive impact on someone, without hurting anyone else, you just do it. If I had died then, I would have been somehow content knowing that my last deed was far from a douche-y one.

Going Mainstream. Wonder of wonders, I got a callback from that audition from the TV station. So I went there, expecting all of my colleagues to be there, knowing that if I got a callback, they would’ve, siince they were all so much more funnier than I was. Only half of us were called back to discuss possibilities. Acting. Weird. After the meeting, the director found it appropriate to give a trial run by giving us bit roles inthat popular gag show that I’ve been watching since the ate 90s. The group’s manager couldn’t shut up about how this was the start of big things for the groups. In fact, he had even given me the speech about joining the group unofficially, and how he’d like to sign me if ever I do sign a TV thing. I have a talent manager. Four months ago, I was traveling via MRT nearly shitting my pants due to nervousness about my first open mic.

The girlfriend keeps referring to it as a “budding career”. I really don’t think so. As far as I’m concerned, the moment I got paid to do stand up, I already accomplished what I set out to do. At this point, I’m just seeing how far I can roll with this. But if going mainstream allows me to continue hitting the stage, more often this time, I say why the fuck not?

After the Shoot. After the entire day of talking with directors and acctors and doing the walk on roles, I was wiped. So much so that the heart did its thing again. The girlfriend didn’t want to see me, I was so far up north that no one could accompany me, and so I just sat there, thoughts in my mind. If it wasn’t for a friend who called, at my request, the night would’ve been harsher.

While I may be embellishing, I imagined what it would’ve been like, dying alone, in the gutter. My thoughts tuerned to people that were no longer around. Like, if Ol’ Football head hadn’t have to leave the country, what role would he play in my life? Would he be watching my shows? Woudl the Big Man have taken certain paths he has taken? Or if the Little Prince was still around? Would he be joining me on my journeys? No one could tell.

I can’t say exactly how, yet, cause I don’t know, but the evening on the pavement changed something in me.

Establishments, far and near. The night after, I went home and got a text message from the Salesman, asking me to see the comedy show in a place called the Establishment. I went. He said we’d be joined by a new friend. As they waited for me, The Salesman was already making a pitch to this new friend, saying that I was awesome, and that I saved his life, and the new friend was just “fuck, alright, I can’t wait to meet him.’ When I got there, the supposed new friend actually was a friend of mine from college, one who left the country to go back to the States and became a Marine, or something. He and the Salesman went to high school together. It was like destiny, but far less gay. So we waited for the Salesman’s girl over drinks, and watched the comedy show, and then drank some more and had cheap Chinese food as the sun rose. We spent most of the night exchanging words of wisdom, especially one from the Navy Man’s travels. “Fuck a bitch, let her suck your dick, hold her hand, and show her that you care.” I think at that point I started drunk texting people.

I’m almost 30 and I’m still living life the way I used to since I turned 16. I’m not complaining though. If this new sphere becomes somewhat of a regular fixture here in my new life in this part of the South, I’m all for it. My transient behavior urges me to enjoy all of this while it lasts.

Another Night of Comedy. It was once again time to hit the mic, and I went in there far more relaxed and comfy than I ever have. I went through a lot the past few weeks. Did some good, did some not-so-good, and now, getting up on stage and attempting to make people laugh is something that finally feels natural. Inf act, after that night on the street, it feels more like therapy now. It feels like home. Good night or bad night, I no longer cared.

The talent manager, after the show, which featuring a strong performance by everyone, took me aside to give me his pitch. I just told him I didn’t need to be sold. I’m his boy, I’m his soldier, and as long as he ensures that I get more stage time for me to enjoy and perfect this craft, I’ma sellout as much as he wants me to.

I guess I never really wanted to make movies that badly. I just always wanted to be funny, and I didn’t really have a medium to do so. Now I do. I’m still going to make movies, of course, but like I said, I want to see where this thing leads.

“They call me the Hiphopopotamus
Flows that glow like phosphorous
Poppin’ off the top of this esophagus
Rockin’ this metropolis
I’m not a large water-dwelling mammal
Where did you get that preposterous hypothesis?” – Flight of the Conchords, “Hiphop-potamus vs. Rhymenocerous”

~ by sunriseshotgun on March 2, 2011.