I have a recurring nightmare at least once a month: I do my first set at an open mic comedy club. All my friends are there, from throughout my life. I realize I don’t have any material ready.
Classic dream stuff, right?
I’m not one to back away from a challenge. So, I start to do crowd work. I make fun of my friends. At first, It’s some light-natured heckling. But then, it turns into full on takedowns of their character, their mannerisms, and who they are as a person.
And the thing about it? I kill. People are falling off their seats laughing. The friends I’m making fun of? They’re hurt, sure. But even they recognize the brilliance of the material. I have a great time in the dream, being so funny, making people laugh.
I start to do regular sets. Then a talent agent scouts me. And then I go on tour.
I know that I’ve made it. I’m on my way to being on Saturday Night Live. I have a deep skill for comedy. Everything is going great.
But then, I’m on stage for a pre-show rehearsal in Indianapolis at the Palladium Theater. And it hits me –– I’ve never felt so lonely. I sit at the Steinway piano set up for me (because in my dream, I’m able to play piano) and cry deep sobs. I hate my life. That’s how I wake up.
This dream makes me empathize with the protagonist in the new Tim Robinson film Friendship. But first: bites.
Bites
Maybe your first tomatoes are ripened. Get some bread from Athens Bread Company and put that baby right in the toaster oven. Then pick some basil, and put it in a mason jar with an egg yolk, some oil, and garlic to make an herb mayonnaise. Use an immersion blender (and ask me about my immersion blender story!). Put that homemade mayo, sliced tomatoes, and some salt and pepper on bread, wrap it up, and take it to the theatre with you. You deserve it.
Camera
Tim Robinson’s comedy/horror is brilliant. It’s about setting up expectations and busting them apart with a baseball bat of awkwardness, then doubling down again by telling everyone that it was justified. Eventually the viewer breaks under the weirdness and can’t help but laugh.
Not every sketch is funny, but Robinson’s I Think You Should Leave is much-watched as a TV series because of the brilliance of sketches like “King of the Slams,” “Bachelorette zip-line,” and all the hot dog related sketches.
In the new film Friendship, Robinson’s character, Craig Waterman, is starved of actual friendship. He meets Austin Carmichael, a local weatherman. He has a group of guy friends. They are emotionally supportive to each other, hang out regularly, and bro out hardcore. Craig becomes obsessed with this friendship. And this obsession is both cringey, funny, and incredibly sad.
I worry about Tim. I worry that he’s made some kind of deal with the devil.
You see, we all try to act normal. There is a set of conventions in the social consciousness that we all have to abide by. Otherwise, there is chaos. Can Tim act normally? Does he have friends in real life? Or is he actually just so awkward that he is lonely?
Obviously, there is an epidemic of male loneliness pervading society. People sit around with their partners and watch TV at night. They scroll through social media, seeing what other people are doing. For me, there’s nothing better than inviting a group of friends over without a single plan, taking a look through the pantry and fridge, and making snacks together.
Fashion
Last weekend, I was at a conference about my disease. There were about 3,000 of us in Los Angeles, all using wheelchairs. Every fourth person who passed me at Disneyland had spinal muscular atrophy (SMA). It was amazing, even if the Winnie the Pooh ride was a bit disappointing.
One of the panels that I went to was about fashion while having SMA. Twenty-somethings gave tips about how to look good while using a wheelchair, how best to pose for Instagram, and how to feel good in your body while it is so different from society’s “ideal.”
That’s well and good, but I’ve got to be honest here: I’m at an age where I don’t really care how I look in pictures or on social media. I’m not really “branding” myself or trying to develop an image. What I’m saying is that while it’s hot outside, it’s cold in theaters. So don’t be afraid to pack a blanket and get cozy.
One of my favorite fashion statements at the conference every year is a particular researcher who doesn’t wear shoes. This particular researcher, let’s call him Anton (because that’s his name), WORE SHOES THIS YEAR. I asked him why, and it’s because he’s doing extremely important research.
You see: ten years ago this conference was much different than it is now. SMA used to be the number one genetic killer of children under the age of three years old. All through the hotel lobbies, two and three year olds used to zip around using tiny and cute electric wheelchairs. The problem was, they were going to die from the disease in months. Medications became available around eight years ago that caused children to live, and many not to use wheelchairs at all. It’s a huge change brought about by fundraising and NIH grants.
But this year, Anton said he feels the need to act normal and make a good impression on everyone by wearing shoes because some of his grants have been cancelled by DOGE cuts.
I want Anton to live authentically! I also want more treatments for SMA and other diseases!
Current policy changes, including federal cuts to Medicaid, are expected to move 17 million people off insurance. Fellow SMA’ers will lose their medical insurance and not have access to life-saving medications. We can do better. For Anton, and for people like me, it would be great if you keep calling your congressperson and reminding them of this. Because doing the work alone can feel lonely.
Remember, to paraphrase Mary Oliver: whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world is only sad if you’re alone. Instead, honk in chorus like all the geese on the Hocking River so they have to listen.
