Big Time Chicken Nibbles
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Hello Friends hello!
How are you, how's it been! When I last chatted with you (e.g. sent an email unprompted to yr inbox, then refreshed my email client obsessively, awaiting your reply) I was heading to Christchurch with the upturned head and carefree gait of The Fool. I must tell you, dear readers, that though I wrote of the trip with a studied nonchalance, inside I was worried. I was worried that this trip to Christchurch would change me, make me too big for my already tight britches. Whenever you visit a new city, you risk forgetting where you came from...but now I'm back and can see this worry was UNFOUNDED! This is a classic email from yr classic mate, eager to catch up with some personal asides, some links to upcoming events, a random review and (cos classic me is classically exciting) TWO secret codes hidden within.
Some personal asides!
Christchurch was a blast. The five days alternated intensely in mood, from feeling like a big-shot to being aggressively,cosmically humbled. Comedy is a manic depressive medium. One of my favourite things about it is that the feedback, good or bad, is immediate. There is little to misinterpret in a belly laugh. Emotionally, though, this immediacy can do a number on ya. I waver between feeling like a goddam king and a phony,often within a single set, sometimes within the span of two jokes.
The trip reminded me of this old comic by Marc Bell that I love, called something like "I am a celebrity at my local copy shop". It was about how chuffed and ecstatic he felt when he went to his Kinko's and the cashier told him he'd left a page of his zine in the copy machine. They knew it was his page cos they recognized his art...from all the other times he'd copied zines there. The comic was aware of how small a moment this was, but also of how good any recognition feels. If you haven't had the bigger moments yet, then even the small stuff feels monumental.
This happened to me when checking into our hotel for the first night and the concierge asked why we were in town. "Oh, I'm performing some comedy shows this weekend", I got to say honestly. I could feel her mood shift up slightly, as she wondered excitedly if I might be somebody--then it quickly settled back into late-shift disaffection, as she concluded I was just some unknown dude. She's right! I am unknown, and putting on a show that I might have to pay for if people didn't purchase enough drinks, but still I felt cool in that slight moment.
It happened again at Good Times (the comedy club) when I first met the organizers,and they were excited that I was an American comic visiting New Zealand, and had put that into a promo for the show. "What do you think of the country so far?" they asked, and I had to explain that I've been here 5 years. "I'm not touring...I just live here," I said with odd embarrassment. It's been a monumental change for me to move to the other side of the world, and attempt comedy again after a big ol' burnout. A couple years ago, when I admitted to myself how much I missed doing this, it took several months of failed attempts just to get up the courage/fortitude to try an open mic again. Now I was at a new club in a new city talking the logistics of my solo hour and feeling through the roof...while also feeling apologetic for not being a "bigger get".
The culmination of this dual mood came on Friday night, where I was scheduled to perform my show then MC an improvised ted talk show after, with a short break between. I ran into the green room after my set, feeling all high and hot, and there were improvisors already gathered there for their big night. As I chatted to them about the lineup and cues of the show, one of the club owners came back to check on me, seeing if I'd like a dinner ("some chicken maybe?") as they knew my schedule was tight tonight. I said chicken would be awesome and for a moment felt so cool. Here I was, chatting in the green room all business like, between shows, about to eat a club dinner--I felt legitimate, like a young Joan Rivers playing the Catskills.
But then the crowd poured in, and the kitchen got busy, and I forgot about my meal cos there was a show to do. Midway through the show, I walk into the green room and one of the comics says, slightly confused, "this came..they said you wanted it?" and on the coffee table was a plate of chopped up chicken--like two deep fried chicken tenders that had been chopped into tiny cubes. It looked like a plate you'd make up for a stray dog. I'd seen the food at Good Times, it all looked great, this was a specifically strange plate--which meant the improvisor must've thought I requested it this way. The problem was that seeing this plate made me realize how hungry I was, how much I needed that chicken, and how I'd need to get back onstage soon, so I just dove into it. There was no cutlery, the only way to eat it was to take a big pinch of chicken and drop it in yr mouth like snuff. I ate it with such quickness and relish (still a damned good chicken!), that the comic became convinced I'd special ordered it. And as the other comics filed in, and I stood there holding my plate, unable to talk cos my mouth was full of baby's first chicken, I...I did not feel much like Joan Rivers at all.
Good Times was an awesome club to perform at, though, and they were extremely nice to me. I got to perform my show, and they gave me spots on other shows throughout the weekend to help make the trip financially sustainable. It was a blast and I'll come out and say it: the club should be called GREAT Times. But the absolute best part of Christchurch, I must say, was getting to stay at my friend Sandy's mom's house.
Wendy is an artist who creates cool vibes at parties, professionally. Her home was a showcase of her work, and the vibes you could expect to be set at a party, and a warehouse of past statement pieces, and just a cool grandma's house.
The place legit made me feel like I was in the Sandman comic, like I was g.d. Dream living in his midnight castle. It was in an industrial part of town, with a mostly unassuming exterior. It could pass for a shop where you'd get custom window frames or something, save for the big spiral sculpture made from bicycle parts right in the front. The interior, though, held nothing back, expressed itself with gusto, and this house saw itself as a downtown castle. Every door was a double door, with big satisfying handles and chunky wood grain. There was a full suit of armor at the entrance, and another in the kitchen, and a Charlie Chaplin statue in the back hall, and gargoyles hanging from a pillar above a comically long kitchen table. Giant mirrors with fading, antique frames were placed everywhere without ever being intrusive, always set to reflect the light coming in from the house-length skylight so that, from the right angle, half of the walls in the home seemed to be made of blue skies and clouds. There were clocks everywhere, some of them melted, most of them decorative, all of them showing a different time and somehow(this is how you know she's an artist) it wasn't maddening. The best part, though, was how homey it all felt--this place was not a showcase, it was lived in. Amid the melting clocks and antique tubas with clowns stuffed inside were pictures of my friends and their new baby. the bathtub was of course a clawfoot and placed at a striking diagonal in the center of a giant bathroom, but it was filled with bathtoys and a tear-free shampoo. They had a full antique gin still next to the kitchen that now, Wendy told us, was only used to hold peanuts for guests. I loved the place so much.
The week was modest, in the big career picture of things, a copy-shop printed zine of a week, but it felt absolutely charmed. I got to wake up each morning and open two big ass double doors like I was a boy prince, have my coffee and scone as the shower readied, then set out to see the city with Angelica, enjoying the warm, quiet days. Then in the evening we'd walk from our industrial manor to the comedy club just down the street, and I'd have my good luck tequila and perform for some new crowd, and then find a late night snack and drink spot for us to sit as the adrenaline chilled, before ambling back to the dreamcastle. A blessed routine.
But, anyway...that shit's BEHIND US. There's a whole new week ahead with equally cool stuff I wanna tell you about!
let's get to it!
Good stuff this week!!
Club Sandwich, 17 June
This Saturday, I'm featuring on Club Sandwich Comedy, doing my set alongside the hilarious Hoani Hotene and Alayne Dick. Both Hoani and Alayne keep me motivated and inspired, as they add the necessary weirdness, energy, and poetry that makes a comedy scene fun and interesting. The show is put on by Monfu, who make v. professional, v. wacky shows that delight me. It's gonna be a singular, surreal, fun ass Saturday.
The show is 17 June, at Fringe Bar, at 8pm. You can buy tickets here and if you use promo CODE "JUNECLUB" you get 20% off!
(side note, I realize in the event description it says I am New York-raised. This was an accident, coming from me talking about where I'm from in a confusing manner. I am not not trying to put on airs or hide my past and am proud to be from humble Tumwater, Washington. this side note is specifically for 3 readers of this email and my parents.)
Solstice Social, 21 June
CARRYING ON! This Wednesday is Art Hack's Solstice Social (that's also celebrating Angelica's birthday?!?) at Valhalla. It's a show organized by Angelica and made up of the loose-knit synth techno ambient hyperpop weirdos of Art~Hack. Art~Hack is one of my favourite traditions in this town, a wholesome set of friends making legitimately great music from instruments they've largely made themselves. It's nerdiness with the right amount of hip shake. Angelica is a part of this music crew and will be doing a set as DJ BBGUN and I'll be hosting! It's going to be a wholesome banger of a show that celebrates long nights and the birth of the best: Angelica. Come out, have fun! Also, if you mention at the door the secret code ART HACK you get in for frickin' free?!?! The show is Wednesday, 21st, at Valhalla, 7pm
Buy Tickets Here and also check out this awesome poster for it.
(I love that it looks like both a church newsletter drawing and the cover of some lost dungeon synth album.)
MINI REVIEW CORNER: ACHEWOOD
This email is already a long one and I know you have things to do today, so I'ma just tell you quickly that Achewood is back and it's got me so happy. If you don't know Achewood, it's the greatest comic strip of the 21st century. It is a webcomic from the early 2000's that started out like all other webcomics of that era: oddly paced internet humor, both ironic and cryptic, with drawn in a style just above clipart. It quickly transcended the form though, to become something beautiful, hilarious, sublime and singular. Chris Onstad, the creator, developed this bizarre, authentic voice for each character that spread from the comic into individual blogspot blogs, advice columns, music, zines, and books. It's everything that makes me misty-eyed about that early era of the web, while also having spots so daffy and well written that I consider Onstad to be one of the all-time great American humorists, next to Mark Twain and Bernie Mac and Minnie Pearl.
The comic kinda faded away as Chris Onstad focused on other life things (being a dad, making sodas). All the fans knew how special the comic was, so we tried to be grateful for the great run we got, hiding our sadness that it just sorta disappeared. But now...it's back! He's writing new strips again! He's writing supplementary advice columns and zines filled with bizarre, beautiful, baroque sentences again! It's put me in such a good mood, and I'm excited to share the comic with you.
You can read the archive of the comic here. I do recommend starting from the beginning, but keep in mind that it becomes soooo much better than these early comics may imply. It's good to read them only so that later, when you're fully taken in and gobsmacked by Achewood, you'll fondly remember its modest, slightly embarassing beginnings. It starts to pick up in the "Party" arc, which comes about five months in. The officially recommended, not as embarrassing, beginning is midway through that arc.
the current comics are being made on his patreon. Check it out!
that is all!
Thanks for reading this email! Will be chuffed to see you this week if it works out and if not, I hope you are well!
- ZACH!