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Comedian Loses Mind, Finds It
Spokane, Washington, sometime in the 1970's:
In my career I did seven one-man shows for KSPS public television in Spokane. They were shown nationally on PBS and I was really happy with them. I think five of them were done at The Met Theater, which was a wonderful old theater, perfect for me. I would spend a year putting together a 90-minute show and they would tape it, edit out the best hour, and put it on the network.
If you realize a good joke can take just a few seconds and I was filling up an hour and a half, you can understand the pressure of writing this much material in a year. I did most of the work in my car, driving around and rehearsing the show to myself, adding bits and pieces as I drove. Then I'd try out the new stuff when I worked clubs and colleges. The TV shows did well and I kept getting asked to do new ones.
But on this morning, the day of the show, I woke up and couldn't remember one word of the material I was going to perform that night. Not one word. It was a total blank. I got out of bed, dressed, left the hotel, and walked around Spokane hoping the mental block would leave and the show would return. It didn't. I'd had mental problems before, mostly in the form of panic attacks where everything would go out of kilter and I'd be afraid I was going crazy. The term, "panic attack", wasn't even in the conversation back then and I figured I was on the short list for the looney bin. This morning was worse because the attack lasted all that time I was walking around, an empty space in my brain where a year's work was supposed to be.
Finally I went back to the hotel and climbed into bed. I slept. When I awoke the show was back. Apparently it had decided to take a vacation. I went on stage that night and all went well, but I never trusted my mind again.
It is 10:30 a.m. in Chiangmai and I have delivered Kadjang to school, met Jintana for breakfast at Butter is Better, and gone to M-Sport driving range, again trying to get the bottom of the swing where I wanted it. How hard can this be I thought as I hit half my shots fat. Luckily I'm filled with inner peace and it didn't piss me off. Okay, there might've been swear words involved. After about 60 soft, short swings, my back started acting up. When this happens I get a really sharp pain in the lower right of my back, and it can get to the point where I'm afraid to move. Today, I walked down to the end of the range and laid down on one of the mats. I laid on my back and let things settle, then did some small crunches,