I tried Yoga for the first time yesterday.
It was the sort of thing like Vegan-ism that I admit to disliking, the sort of thing that people use as a crutch to seem somehow spiritually superior to others. Back in sketch classes, when people would make jokes about “ashrams” or whatever I would always just think they were assholes, because really, what an elitist, shitty white-person thing to be making in-jokes about, Yoga.
But it was pretty good, though I’m really sore today.
I still don’t think I’ll be making any ashram jokes (just as I don’t think I’ll be talking about how much better my life is now that I don’t eat animal products) but it did make my back feel better and seemed to slightly improve my posture. It just seemed like a less body-destroying version of the Judo I used to do, which when I left it made me feel like my whole body was vibrating and that I craved meat.
But as I was leaving, the person who’d brought me there pointed out that this was a good way to meet women, since there was a low-percentage of males in Yoga classes and an even lower percentage of straight males. But I told her I thought it would be creepy to hit on a girl in a yoga class, a place where people are supposed to get away from stress and feel at peace and also somewhere in me it felt somewhat desperate.
This same person recommended that I highlight my TV appearances on my online dating profile, when they heard that my appearing on national television had somehow not lead to me being some sort of mighty-mack. But this too seemed desperate me, seemed targeted to attract the wrong sort of attention. I left the class feeling down and not knowing why, though maybe like I wanted to do more Yoga.
Thinking about it today and yesterday has brought me to a rather obvious realization and one that I’ve arrived at multiple times on these pages: for all my serenity and comfort for where I am in parts of my life, I still wonder what’s wrong with me.
In my personal and professional life I feel undervalued. Why couldn’t I explain why I hadn’t found anything meaningful romantically in the time since I’d been on television? Professionally there are problems too with feeling underused and undervalued that I can’t talk about here.
The other day after a good night at The Chris Gethard Show, I got in a fight with my sister that made me feel like I was 11 again and went out to a bar I know I shouldn’t have gone to, to talk to a girl I shouldn’t have talked to, about that something that just made me feel immediately like shit. I was undervaluing myself. I was feeling that way.
As always I can point to my friends and see similar problems, no great serenity or happiness there, necessarily. But maybe it feels frustrating to see their apparent grace in dealing with it.
Just like the Yoga people and the Vegans, my friends frequent seem to achieve some happy balance, or at least find a way not to show their loneliness. It’s healthy for them but it also makes me feel like who am I, but at least they don’t make jokes or gloat about it.
As I’ve written about before here, the best note I ever got in improv was from Ashley Ward, who told me at a bar after a class I took with her, after feeling bad about how I was as a performer that “You are where you need to be”.
It’s a good way to look at life and the situations you find yourself in, a way of seeing things that you make can’t make sense of as part of a larger situation, a moment in your life that is now, but will not happen again, part of a path you may or may not continue on.
One foot in front of the other, going out, doing things. I have friends who don’t go out, friends who wallow in their loneliness and depression and I don’t do that. I put myself out there and perform silly shows and write stupid blog posts (which probably don’t ultimately help win me any romance points).
I am where I need to be.
And I’ll try to figure out a Yoga class to go to.
Probably to the amusement of all.
Andrew Parrish is concerned about how he is portrayed on this blog and for good reason.
For about two-thirds of his portrayal, he has been a villain of epic proportions, so much so that Blake LaRue made a really fun Batman-villain origin-story for him, which I think was just Mad Libs pertaining to Scarecrow’s back-story (but still it was funny).
However, sadly, he continues to be a good friend to me.
When Robeardo Malone will have either a “large bowel movement” or a migraine or an attack of lethargy or Beamer will decide he’d rather hide from humanity that evening or Sebastian decides he has “too much homework, bro”, Andrew consistently comes out and does stuff with me and has fun.
This week, we headed to ASSSSCAT, saw a late-night set and then went on an epic quest around the city, wandering into a hotel to attempt to retrieve a pillow that was taken from him by his roommate for a French short-film shoot in a fancy hotel on the Gramercy Park, which we unsuccessfully crashed (something about the pillow being dirty) and then headed off for a night of ping-pong with comedy luminaries, into the wee-hours Sunday night.
Of course during ASSSSCAT at the UCB, a girl who attends the CGS recognized Andrew and started energetically talking to him, which he shrugged off, even when he later saw her on the street during our quest, he didn’t even stop to talk to her.
“What are you doing? Late night, pretty girl, chance encounter…” I demanded
“Eh.” He said.
It was a fun night though as I am epically terrible at Ping Pong and managed to hit the ball into the light fixtures several times before finally being relieved by the much better and funnier players.
Parrish is like me, single, but he’s goddam better at ping pong, non-chalance and now he’s even stolen quests from me.
I don’t know.
I’m watching you, Parrish.
During that UCB show evening, Andrew and I ended up at a Japanese burger place named Kobeyaki over on 7th Avenue which I wanted to try.
They didn’t have any whole grain buns for their “Teriyaki Chicken Burger” (a good version of which certainly exists at Tebaya in lower Chelsea, nb) so I ended up trying their “Teriyaki Chicken Bowl” which came over salad even though I ordered it with brown rice.
It was good, a little overly sweet/sauce-drenched for my taste, but rife with good vegetables and a surprisingly varied-greens salad.
The next day at UCB I saw someone with the same thing as everyone crowded around to see someone’s opinion of the new place in the ‘hood.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” The eating dude said. “It’s Bourbon Chicken.”
I literally gasped (or maybe said “Whoa”).
That is quite a put-down as Bourbon Chicken is the sort of crap one gets from Food Court Panda Expresses AND/OR Food Court Rajun Cajuns!
“No diss, man.” The guy said. “I love Bourbon Chicken. But this is definitely it.”
And I guess thinking back on my experience of it.
He’s kinda right.
“Teriyaki Chicken Bowl”/Bourbon Chicken- $9.00
7th Avenue bet. 26th and 27th Sts.
1 to 28th St. CE to 23th St.