I'm not dead, I'm doing gigs on Long Island
OK, so maybe this is a sort of death, but I have actually found doing shows on Long Island can really be quite exciting.
First there's the fear. I don't just have issues with Long Island -- I have a whole subscription.
I grew up on Long Island. It's the only place that still scares the poop out of me. Since I conquered stage fright way back when dinos ruled the land, but I'd sooner put poisonous snakes in my panties than face the past, Long Island really delivers a potent cocktail of white hot fear. Iraq might be no picnic, but have you ever been deployed to Islip? I didn't think so. Performing on the soil of my ancestral homeland is the only way to really up the stakes.
Then there's the pay. Shows in the sticks (read: anywhere outside of Manhattan), actually pay you. That's not why I perform, but it's nice.
Then there's the people. For the most part, they like me. Each time I hit the L.I.E. I expect my mind-numbingly awful Jr. High experience to be repeated and I brace for it. Doing these shows is like getting in a time-machine, going back and finding that magically everything on Long Island has changed for the better. How is this possible? Did someone tinker with the space/time continuum, severely altering everything in the future? Yes. Go back a whole bunch of years and you'll see: I sneakily picked myself up a wheelbarrow full of confidence, and it changed Long Island forever.
Tonight I'll be performing at The Rare Olive Lounge in Huntington. If anyone who reads this actually shows up, I will buy you a drink and an elk. That's my promise. Free drink/ free elk. Hell, I'll even throw in a year's supply of colored plastic wrap to jazz up your leftovers if you actually show up. See you there!
