nyc

I am driven. Being driven is my energy source. It is my fun._I believe that where there is action, there is movement, and those ripples will eventually produce something positive.

Maybe that is why in my comedy I try and puncture the hypocrisy all around us, why it is almost a crusade with me to strip life down to what really is true.

_but I think comedy is more aggressive than that. It is a medium for revenge. We can deflate and punish the pomposity and the rejection which hurt us. Comedy is power.

Liked" was the kiss of death. "Loved" or "hated" interested him. At least the performer had aroused emotion.

Somehow, some way, every person in the arts has to find an accommodation with disappointment and embarrassment. They are the pollen in the air we breathe.

_you either do or do not have a comedy mind, whatever that is, maybe a heightened sense of the ridiculous and the absurdity of life_We are all crazy and crazed.

When you begin to losing your audience, do not get loud; get quiet, make them find you and come back to you.

The revelation that personal truth can be the foundation of comedy, that outrageousness can be cleansing and healthy_

It gathers emotionally inside you, in a strange way a by-product of struggle, of a willingness to do anything, try anything, expose yourself to anything _ staying in motion because sooner or later those ripples will cause change.

Laughing made me feel safe. I was not going to be enveloped by the seediness that coated this world like dust.

I MUST BE A TIME TRAVELLER BECAUSEI AM ALWAYS AHEAD OF MY TIME

New York had saved him, in a very real way. It had pushed and prodded him with its impatient and sharp fingers, reminding him on a daily basis during that jittery first year that it didn't really give a goddamn whether he sank or swam. He liked its selfishness and its generosity and its propensity for flipping the bird to the rest of the world.

As filthy as any night was, a New York City morning is always clean. The eyes get washed.Flowers in white deli buckets are replenished. The population bathes, in marble mausoleums of Upper East Side showers, or in Greenwich Village tubs, or in the sink of a Chinatown one-bedroom crammed with fifteen people. Some bar opens and the first song on the jukebox is Johnny Thunders, while bums pick up cigarette butts to see what__ left to smoke. The smell of espresso and hot croissants. The weather vane squeaks in the sun. Pigeons are reborn out of the mouths of blue windows.

That's how quickly New York City comes about - like a weather wane - or the head of a cobra. Time tells which.

Ten years have passed and every day that I walk throughout the city, I feel honored to be a part of it - and atom in the blood of a beating heart belonging to the most wonderfully diverse, smart, creative, passionate being.

Everyone in New York City thinks they are famous without being famous.

Oh, Williamsburg. There was a point when you seemed like a scary, tough neighborhood, but now it's obvious that the graffiti on your walls gets put there by art students.

Life is amazingly simplified,_ she wrote in her journal, __ow that the recalcitrant forsythia has at last decided to come and blurt out springtime in petalled fountains of yellow. In spite of reams of papers to be written, life has snitched a cocaine sniff of sun-worship and salt air, and all looks promising._ She already adored New York.