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  1. HULK SMASH!!!

    Wednesday, October 3, 2012

    by Helene "There is only one HULK. And he is GREEN!" Gresser

    Shut up, I know this blentry is posted very late. I am in the middle of apartments right now, so I am hauling heavy bags of my clothes and toiletries to various places to rest my weary bones while I search for a cheaper place to live so I can afford to be an "artist" and a "real estate agent." So I have limited access to computers (no laptop) and I did not want to type this on my Blackberry, much as that would have amused me to whine about. So that's why this is appearing so late today.  I know, I know, always an excuse. I am the queen of excuses. You are right. Shut up.

    I have a show I'm doing Friday, and the guy I've been dating wants to come see me perform. He keeps asking me if that is okay with me, and I keep saying "SURE. I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU THERE" in an unconvincing cheery tone. Honestly, I am terrified to have him there. I mostly talk about my pathetic, neurotic, uncomfortable life and often I mention my dating life/sexy-times. So he will have a glimpse into the unvarnished me -- the rambling ranting loon that obsesses over ingrown pubic hair bumps that look like I might have the HERP and my fat thigh-ass-salmon-steak-shaped rear view when I wear tight slacks, and how I once saw my dad fully naked and how loud my mom is when she "makes love." This new guy in my life is no prude, is incredibly kind to me, and has only seen me trying to be as non-needy and easy-going as possible, all "HEY EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE FINE EVEN THOUGH I AM TECHNICALLY HOMELESS" and "YES, I WEAR MASCARA TO BED" and "I AM COMPLETELY CLEAN AT ALL TIMES." He has no idea of the Hulk-like creature that controls my inner monologue. The gross messy angry homunculus that drives the Helene bus is not pretty, not relaxed, not kind.

    My first experience with a dude witnessing "Comic Helene" was at my graduation from my comedy class, and I was given a cherry spot in the line-up because I was pretty damn good on stage - or so I imagined - at least in comparison to my fairly green classmates who were not trained in acting as I was. I was loose and comfortable in front of my class. My teacher/coach was encouraging of my talent and said I'd be just great with my unique style of rather improvisational and truthful story-telling. I was going to talk about the sexual antics that my latest paramour was into -- and the fact that he was my brother's best friend in high school and I had a huge crush on him when I was a youngster, and now the adult me was witness to his fetishes and I was frankly amused and taken aback, though I eventually said "WHAT THE HELL" and tried to go along with his preferences for a brief while.

    And then I saw that dude, that same dude I was going to talk about, enter the club and sit down before my set. Gack. How was that going to work??? What the hell could I talk about instead? Fumfer fumfer fumfer pace pace pace drink drink gulp. I half-assed my way through a partially-edited set. I received tepid applause. I sucked balls, in my estimation. My set had been videotaped professionally and that tape is still sitting in a dusty file cabinet somewhere in the bowels of Caroline's, as I did not need a copy to review the horror. And the dude still laughs when I tell him I am a comic, because, I believe, he thinks I am not really funny.

    I cannot edit my set to be something completely palatable without serious damage. I never felt totally free and comfortable as an actress onstage, but as a comic, I have found a voice I like and a confidence that is so energizing and fun that I cannot wait to grab that mic and go. I have changed my set on the fly when going up after a comic who has done some material that is similar to mine, and it worked fine. But if I see someone I know, fear their reaction to my ribald material, and thus perform as if I am watching myself from a distance, I am dead in the water. Hulk needs to rip off his shirt and be fearlessly green and angry and stomp about in all his ugly glory. Hulk likes freedom from the white collar restraint. If he was content to be Bruce Banner, he'd fucking be Bruce Banner the physicist. Hulk is Hulk. Comedy can be rough and ugly and dark and gross and unrefined and brutal. At least that is the nature of MY beast.

    We'll see how my new guy reacts to seeing my monster. If he hates it, if he loses his attraction to me, then I guess it's better to know sooner than later. If he loves it, then there's a chance that I've found someone who actually GETS ME. Hulk likes this. Hulk likes being understood, especially since he speaks in roars and grunts most of the time. Sometimes he blarfs after a set. That's Hulk.



  2. 4 comments:

    1. I am so fuckin' cheering for the Hulk on this one. Man, that's some good writing' you're doing there, girl. Fingers crossed.

    2. I enjoyed this, and the illustrations are wonderful!

    3. RHC said...

      Fumfer fumfer fumfer pace pace pace drink drink gulp.

    4. Spleen said...

      Thanks friends!! -- Ole Hulky

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