Happy Friday, everyone. It's a beautiful, sunny, late summer afternoon. Perfect time to send out a newsletter. Everyone loves to read self-indulgent, personal newsletters on Fridays at the end of summer! Quick correction from the last newsletter: I mistakenly assumed it was the one-year mark, since it was the twelfth Tewsletter, but it wasn't. I'm not great with time.
It's been a solid month overall. And I've got a few weeks off from my normal rigorous schedule of talking for several minutes a night, so I'm going to find an air conditioned hole to live and write in until September, when I'll be hitting Cleveland, Denver, and Philly.
In the interest of brevity, here's a bulleted list of good things that have happened to me, with unabashed name drops, in no particular order:
- I got a pretty good haircut.
- I watched Dave Chappelle at the Cellar.
- I had a short, casual conversation with Judd Apatow.
- I fell asleep in Central Park.
- I started running again. It's terrible.
- I went to Austin for the first time loved it, I drank a ton of beer.
- I was cat called by a man in Austin, but not "called", really. He just stood behind me at a crosswalk and purred like a large jungle cat. Then smiled at me when I turned around.
August 4th was the birthday of America's most sensitive service, the U.S. Coast Guard. In honor of that, here's a photo of me from basic training, with a story. Enjoy.
This was the boot camp photo that bummed my mom out. She said I looked miserable, and it's because I was. They shave your head and yell at you for weeks, then make you pose for photos. Not sure why they take your photo in boot camp, it doesn't make for great PR. "Wanna look tired and disoriented? Join the Coast Guard!"
I was only eighteen. I lost almost twenty-five pounds in eight weeks. Around week four or five I got in trouble for writing a letter home that colorfully described my company commanders (that's what they call drill instructors in the CG). They found it because I'd left it in my backpack and we had a random bag inspection. You weren't supposed to keep letters in your pack. They found the letter and read it in front of the whole company. It wasn't ready for public consumption, it was just a first draft, but they didn't seem to care. I just stood there at attention while one of the CC's read aloud a letter about him and the others. It was a hilariously illustrative description, but not meant to be read by its subjects.
I was terrified. I knew I was fucked. I could tell everyone around me was trying not to laugh, which was my only relief. It helped my status in the barracks, but nowhere else. The next day I was sent to a disciplinary platoon for a few days. That platoon had four company commanders for six or seven recruits. Lots of unwanted individual attention. We had to wake up an hour before everyone else, and we went to bed an hour later. They also made us wear big orange belts over our uniforms so everyone on base knew we'd done something stupid. I got through it, returned to my regular platoon and graduated basic on time, to the surprise of many. I wish I could find that letter.
P.S. If you haven't already, grab my album on iTunes or Spotify.
jimtews.com | @jimtews | felinesofnewyork.com
Every Thursday, “Fresh Out” @ UCB East, NYC
8/30 - 9/3 Accidental Comedy Fest, Cleveland, OH
9/7 - 9/9 Punchline, Philadelphia PA
9/15 - Glenwood Springs, CO
9/16 - Blackbird Public House, Denver, CO
9/17 - Bohemian Biergarten, Boulder, CO
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