Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of January 23, 2022
There are only seven stories in the world. And the storytelling community continues to think we’re not bored with all of them.
Who Gets to Tell Your Kid’s Story?
I hated when my mother would talk about me to her friends when I was a kid. Hated it. Even the most bland of stories, like, say, that I was playing little league again that spring would infuriate me. And I know she shared way more about me than my pre-teen baseball career to her friends and family. Hated it. As if she knew anything about me whatsoever. As if my challenges and wins and all-inclusive experiences—as if my life—were her story to tell.
I Like To Watch | Enter the Mollusk (2019)
When I watched Vincent Truman and David Himmel’s Enter the Mollusk, I laughed… hard. It’s both very funny and very on point as all good parody should be. The characters are all very recognizable for someone with my personal connection and yet are universal to someone unfamiliar. Sending up all the pretense and pompous posturing of the entire Chicago storytelling community with a laser-like focus on The Moth in specific.
Whose Idea Is It Anyway? The Terminator, The Infinite Wrench, and BUGHOUSE!
The format [curated open mic storytelling] is a rich canvas for the different shows to create new improvements on the skeleton and flesh it out in their specific artistic way. The format wasn’t stolen or plagiarized in these cases so much as stripped of specificity and re-clothed in improvements, making wholly unique live experiences for a completely different audience.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of April 28, 2019
Those who make their birthday a month-long celebration are greedy, self-centered, and obnoxious.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 9, 2018
If Lady Gaga can sing Baby, It’s Cold Outside with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Tony Bennett, it can’t be that bad. Unless she likes being raped or whatever.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 11, 2018
This Thanksgiving, let’s remember that this year’s holiday falls on the 65th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. So let’s be thankful that most of us won’t experience having our spouse’s skull and brains splattered all over our designer outfit while riding in a convertible. I bet Jackie even got some brain matter in her mouth. Gross. Pumpkin pie is so much better, I’m sure.
A Urinal Cake Was The Only Souvenir I Could Afford
Did it matter that toilet water is exactly the same water that we get from the tap and drink and that urine has no germs and that the urinal cake definitely had destroyed any nastiness pee'd on it due to the extreme nature of a cake of ammonia in water? Not even a little. I had stolen a urinal cake from a theme park in Missouri and stuffed it in my pocket.
Insert your own metaphor HERE.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Do, please insert your own metaphor in the comments section of this piece. —DH)
Take Your Shit Seriously, Not Yourself
Show me a storyteller who only strives to teach the audience a lesson, to show the audience her pain and victim status, who takes his shit so seriously that every story told has a moral or a sense of condescension, and you have a Shaman. Show me a storyteller who only wants the attention for the laugh, who only tells stories of her "most embarrassing moments" with the sole purpose of being liked, and you have a Village Idiot.
Your True Personal Story is About 60% Horseshit
Many in the storytelling scene tout the fact that the stories are true personal narratives. Some talk an awful lot about telling their Truth as if that is somehow more authentic or truish than truth. The fact is, they're all (mostly) lying.
The Wrong Side of the Rainbow
Lauren, even from an early age, was incredible. Even now, when she sets her mind on something, she’s going to make that shit happen. She got it in her head one St. Patrick’s Day that she was going to catch herself a leprechaun. A bona-fide, emerald green leprechaun! And she was going to catch it by building a state-of-the-art leprechaun trap.
Illiterate Dick
"Hey Laura. I have to be honest, I recognize you from the Chicago Storytellers Facebook group. I'm Aaron. It's nice to meet you," The Match.com message read.
First of all my name is Lauren, I thought you said you recognized me, and second of all I am done dating storytellers and/or comedians. They are disasters.
I replied politely. "Hi Aaron. Actually it's Lauren not Laura. Thanks for reaching out."
This chat message was the start of a half-assed romance that lasted the hottest months of 2016.
I Believe... [Monolithic Propaganda is a Waste of Time]
...that every bigot believes their prejudice is justified and that a hostile work environment is defined by the one the hostility is directed at.
I Believe... [And Danny Rand Became Less Annoying]
...that in the "Look on the bright side of things" Pollyanna sort of way, at least it's becoming easier to spot the bigots, right?
The Hard-Earned Lesson I Learned from Lydia, Molly, Ian and Hedy Weiss
I swear to Gawd and All That is Holy that this will be my last word on two specific issues: the public shaming I endured this time one year ago AND Hedly Weiss.
Diversifying Your Identity Portfolio to Become a Real Live Person
Identity is that which we find our own self worth. It is the moniker we decide is most representative of our essential I—being professionally successful, being highly educated, making a lot of money, being an excellent parent, being pious and faithful in a chosen religion, being socially and/or sexually popular and desired, being physically attractive or beautiful. It includes areas that we have no control over but decide to embrace—our skin color, our gender, our sexual preferences, our physicality.
Race and gender and physicality are born-in traits but the choice is not to erase them but to either embrace the stereotypes laid upon skin color, sexuality and disability or buck those stereotypes. Culture, hair style, language—the trappings of the outward display of identity—are all conscious choices.
What you choose indicates what you value in life.
It's the Common Ground Rather Than the Differences That Unify Us
"It tastes like chicken."
Why do we do that? Why do we compare a meat we aren't used to, that perhaps sounds alien like snake or crocodile or stingray, to the most common of American meat products?
I'd wager we do that because trying new and different things contains a risk. For most of us, risk is a bit uncomfortable because it has a real chance of tasting like shit. Which upon signaling our distaste, we are immediately judged for our terribly pedestrian tastes and told we are terrible people for sticking to the Olive Garden as fine dining.
Dave Chappelle: The World HAS Gone a Little Mad
As it has become standard with these things, I heard a metric ton of negative response to the two Netflix comedy specials featuring Chappelle's return to the stand up stage before I sat down and watched them.
Over at GQ.com, Damon Young posits Chappelle's humor is grounded in a time that has passed and others simply dismiss the specials as Dave “punching down” by joking about gays, transgender folks and rape.
”His focus on the horror of political correctness, instead, felt like something you’d expect to come from a megarich 43-year-old man from the outskirts of Ohio. Who, instead of evolving with the world, has remained stagnant and believes the world has gone mad while pining for time when things were simpler. Which is who he is.”
A National Pasttime Gorging on Rage
Do not ignore the horrors but in your passion to quell them, beat them, solve them, do not ADD to them.
Anxiety is the thing that’s ripped our country apart. It has divided us, caused us to fear and hate those who think and live differently than us, and even caused us to hate those who only slightly disagree with us. It has led to panic and overreaction. And I worry that American Anxiety is only going to exacerbate the social and political divide in this country to the point that there is no coming back.