I remember paying five dollars at 3:00am for a shower at a truck stop in Tennessee. Washing my Diadora walking shoes in that shower. Walking barefoot through the Tennessee airport. Transferring in Dallas, barefoot, and looking again like I got hit by a truck. My morning commute. Monday 6:00am flight to LAX. With the commuters . Brian was coming in from SF at 9:30am. He met me at Terminal 4 at 10:00 am. On the way to Fox, we discussed why West LA was the biggest waste of a void place either of us had ever seen. A shinebox. That comment was inspired by Frank Vincent’s line to Joe Pesci in Goodfellas, “Go get your fucking shinebox!!”. We pulled into the lot and went to work ready to shine shoes or make cartoons. Or not.

Wednesday June 16, 3:45 flight to Newark. I pray to the all encompassing. Airplanes are the best place to write because you are forced into the same position for hours with nothing to do. No excuses. Write, mother fucker. You fucking pussy. Write a joke you faggot. Can you? Or are you just a hack? How the fuck do you write a joke? Only time will tell.

Thursday, June 17 - 4 days with Phish in NY. By the way, I love Jerry Garcia. I think it needs to be said every now and again. Like it was some kind of point or order in a committee meeting. Phish rocked Brooklyn and I passed up opportunities for standup in New York. However, I met this beautiful New York girl. She bought a tee. It seems like there will be more later. But about stand up, this needs to be said. On Tuesday June 15, I had done the Aztec Hotel in Monrovia, a small town room near Pasadena. A high school teacher/slash comic books the room. I told seventeen year old kids that the best thing to do in a relationship is to make homemade porno of you and your girlfriend. This way when you break you can continue to fuck her in your fantasies. I explained that the genius of this move is that you come away with all of her good parts and none of her bad. And are loaded up with post break up masturbation visuals. Then when meeting the new boyfriend, you can shine him on by telling him you got this really great movie, he should check out. Its got everything...

Friday, July 9 back on the plane, laptop battery about to die, about to land in Newark. Again. Brooklyn girl. NY girl. Molly. If I just focus on stage time, I will never get to know what this girl is all about and maybe...

Monday 7:00am July 12, 2004 Get off my armrest you fat sweater in July wearing motherfucker. You boring business freak. Stick your face in the marketing report and get the fuck off my arm. Stop eating expensed lunches of greasy salami sandwiches and pork rolls. Their is a piece of ham hanging off your shitface mustache. And stop parting your riduculously stringy hair over that shiny blad spot. They have always told you what to do and you really care what they think. You are a fucking pussy. Smile, you pathetic excuse for a man. Show some love. You probably abuse your wife, at least mentally, if not physically, and definitely don’t let your kids live for their dreams. You bastard. Who do you think you are? You pathetic air commuter. Fuck you and your brown suit. You lifeless, spineless pawn. You slave to corporate America. Fuckoff and get the fuck off my armrest. Learn to share. Move, your fat pig sweater laden, hairy arm off my fucking armrest and let’s make the trip back to LA somewhat comfortable. LA is where freaks like me reign free. You stodgy, dodgey Chicago accent, Bears fan, fat uneducated excuse for DNA. Oh great. We’re flying over Buffalo. Maybe we can drop you off.

Monday 11:00am July 12, 2004 Back on the train to Newark, back on the plane to LA, back on the train, theme for the weekend, personally it seems that my writing has become a bit personal. All those characters that seem real and fake are exactly that. But to me they are as real as my imagination of reality will allow. I write with frogs. Frogs in my throat choking me up near airplane windows. Whether I am blessed or just plain lucky will never be determined. Molly was summer. Molly was a weekend vacation. Molly made me forget the pressures of day at the stagelights of night. That skin was so warm on my cheek. Were the original butterflies fear or excitement? Like the first time I killed and like every time since. But this time lasted over 48 hours, not 15 minutes. She was music in a world of comedy.

And as far as that went, I hooked with a couple of NY comics to network with in the future. I saw a double feature show of Red Bastard and the Neutrino Video Project. Red Bastard is a hilarious answer to the question of the uncomfortable bouffon. Awkward laughter abounded as the Red Bastard dressed in red tights and stockings, stuffed with inflated rubber balls for a huge mock tummy and ass and begged women to sing into his mouth...with tongue. Neutrino does live improv videos with edits and score. They use New York as the backdrop to there strangely intertwining half Harold. Conceptually unique, the Neutrino Video Project are reaping the benefits of their success at the HBO US Comedy Festival in Aspen, IO West Improv in LA and on the way to Edinburgh to wow the Scots.

Sunday 11:00pm July 11, 2004 Greenwich Village. Molly and I sat and ate fake Italian food, the typical fare for the neighborhood these days while people watching. Boston Comedy Club and the Comedy Cellar and both within two blocks. However, I continued to see and tell jokes on the streets. Like this retarded guido who pulled up in front of the restaurant, put his car in park, threw on the hazards and got on his cell phone. The fact that people were eating dinner did not dissuade this overgrown guido from blasting Jodicee and bobing his white visor crowned fat gelled head like he was the reincarantion of Bobby Brown. Only fat, white and more abusive. Judgement lashed through my being and I tore him a new one for my table’s entertainment as he spun the shiny rims of brand new white Mercedes. He must spit ouit of his moon roof because it was cold out, there was no moon and no sun. The guy’s car was such a tool that not only his trunk had a spolier but his rear winshield also had a spoiler. I was looking for one on his hood but it wasn’t their. His visor defined the spolier for his face. And unless you are a legitimate lesbian tennis player, aren’t visor kind of out of style. And unless you are on way to or from the gym, workout suits should be illegal. Get your toolbox brother because we both know that car will be in the shop in about a week either because you are adding more ground effects or because it broke down. You decide. She bet me he had Jersey plates and I argued New York. He pulled away and the plates were temporary like the time that Molly and I had together.