I have a weird brain. This is nothing particularly new to anyone who’s ever met me, but sometimes…
Look, it’s 3:45 a.m. I haven’t been to sleep. I haven’t even been close. Electronics were down at 11, TV off at midnight. I focused on getting to sleep. And then my brain…dear Lord, my brain.
Can I tell you now that I’m already irritated at my brain for that wackadoodle atypical migraine it threw at me yesterday…er…Wednesday that landed me in the ER for 7 hours? Because OMG. BRAIN! GET A GRIP!
So I’m laying there, all nestled down in my smooshy mattress with my dreamy body pillow, and I just want to sleep, right? Because, really, this is ALL I WANT.
I tried to zone out, I really did. And I was doing great. No worries, relaxing, enjoying being all curled up, tuning out TechPapa’s snoring. When out of the nether regions of my brain comes a voice.
If they could see the face, the face behiiiiiiiiind the mask…, it sang.
Perhaps they’d understand, they wouldn’t have to ask.
What is the force that makes…the comic perform?
To act in ways that seem to faaaaaar from the norm…
I know this voice because my brain is weird. I can’t remember what I did today, but this? This Shirley Maclaine acceptance speech from the Comedy Hall of Fame in FRIGGEN 1994? This, I remember.
I was obsessed with half of these people growing up. (image credit: AP)
What makes ’em face the thunder, makes the face the crowd,
With nerves a bit unsteadied, but with head unbowed,
Facing one cold, grim, hard fact:
There’s nowhere to hide, if they don’t laugh, and love your act.
And then it starts talking, the accompaniment to “If You Could See Me Now” continuing in the background.
What enables a comic to show up for work,
Knowing each night he might be faced with some jerk,
Who came to the club just to heckle and jeer,
To screw up his timing and ruin his career…
See, this thing has stuck with me, man, like GLUE. For a while in college, I could say it at just the exact rhythm and actually time out a minute on the nose. BRAIN=WEIRD.
What enables an actress to come to the set,
Believing the camera is going to get
Every gag, every gesture, every subtle aside,
And not knowing for months if her efforts have died…
I have looked and looked and looked for the video of this thing on YouTube or elsewhere on the Internets, but I cannot find it. I can, however, tell you it aired in October as I was watching it while I was waiting on a pal of mine to come pick me up in her Jeep so we could go looking for a Halloween party (which we never went to, MOTHER. We drove to Calhoun and back, woohoo, while she talked me into doing another weeks’ worth of her French homework.).
What courage it takes, what impossible grit,
To maintain and sustain the belief you’re a hit,
When your agent, who loves you, now puts you on hold,
And the club owner’s tell you your routine is too old?
What words of encouragement make you go on,
When common sense tells you your chances are gone,
When you’re watching young guys who began after you,
Get shots on the talk shows and you can’t break through.
I was in the midst of my Murphy Brown obsession at the time. I was determined to go into production. And one day, when I won my Emmy, I would make a speech that would be remembered by some random kid in some random small town for the rest of HER natural life! (not) (I totally rambled on about editing on my dining room table.) (I also got cut off.) (On the front end.) (Because I talked over my clip.) (But I digress.)
The words that sustain you are names from a list
Of others who made it, and so you persist.
You think of the legends, like Skelton and Hope,
Who also had setbacks but learned how to cope,
And you think if you’re female, the course has been set,
By Lucy and Mary and Carol Burnette,
And you think of the standups who stood up and died
Before finding that voice that comes deep from inside…
I was gonna be FAMOUS. Because Shirley Maclaine had INSPIRED ME with her WORDS that I still REMEMBER NINETEEN YEARS LATER.
Yes, those are your touchstones, your icons, your spur,
That if it could happen to him or to her,
There might be a chance if could happen to you.
And wouldn’t that be funny? If dreams could come true?
And then the singing’s back. Because God forbid I ever be able to stop this train in the middle of its track.
If you were booooorn to wear, the jester’s cap and bells,
There’s no one who can tear you from that magic spell.
You must commit to something deep in your heart,
To turn your wit and humor into an art.
Aaaaalllllll Iiiiiiiii can say is HEY, I owe it all to you.
I know the things you pay for doing what you do.
You’ll go through so many wars….but you’ll survive them…
And the last laugh could be,
The last laugh should be,
The last…laugh…will…be…yoooooooouuuuuuuurrrrrrrsssssss!
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
It’s 4:15 a.m. I’m wider awake than I was at 4:15 p.m. Egad, my braaaaaain!
Leave a Reply