People, its hard to raise a baby.
I can barely articulate how exhausted I am. Mentally, emotionally. KilBaby is nine and a half months old. Every day, he figures out something new. Like how to pull a plant down off a ledge (tug on the long hanging leaves or stems or branches or whatever they’re called on houseplants, I can’t remember and I’m too tired to google).
Friends call, I forget. Emails, I forget. I’m pretty good on business stuff because my life depends on it. The rest fades from memory when my son finds an Advil that was under the couch. He puts everything in his mouth.
My mom is in town, free childcare. I’ve been doing some weeknight shows- I forgot how important it is to fuck around in front of 10 people on a Tuesday night. In fact, those shows are the ones where new material breaks. They’re more important that the weekend shows. Those shows pay me just enough not to fuck around, not to take chances. Those shows make me hate comedy. Feels rote, predictable. I wish I could do more small shows. I miss that alot. I feel like a sellout even writing that.
I’m still living in my year of darkness. It’s supposed to end in two and a half months, shouldn’t I be able to see a ray of light by now? Some sort of sign that I’ll be able to cope and conquer?
