That photo’s not the best shot I’ve ever taken, but it gives you a good idea of what a Louis CK show will be. He doesn’t like the showy things that other comedians do, his stage will have him, a microphone, and not much else. I first learned about Louis CK through his short lived HBO multi-camera sitcom Lucky Louis, a show inspired like all his stand up material by his own life. After that show was cancelled, he returned to the stand up tour circuit.

When Seinfeld did his I’m Telling You for the Last Time tour, the last time he would ever use any of the material he’d developed over the preceding two decades, it was a big deal. The documentary, Comedian, followed Seinfeld as he rebuilt a set from scratch relying on none of his old material. The ultimate test of the stand up comic. Louis CK has done this three times in the last three years.

Every year he tours, building a set, culminating with a recorded special of the material after which he drops it all and starts anew. I went to see Louis CK perform the other night — hence the photo I took above, which might have been better framed had I not been on the mezzanine level; he didn’t seem used to delivering he material to multi-level audiences so most of his attention was cast on the lower level — and I had heard none of the jokes he delivered in his hour-plus set. His material always comes from the same basic world; he’s still a middle-aged divorced comic and he’s still the same essential person, but each year he manages to find a new perspective. Often his jokes are tantalizingly close to old ones, and hearing the set up you’ll find yourself convinced of the punch line only to be redirected into a new avenue of unexpected hilarity.

If you ever get the chance to see Louis CK live, take it. He’s one of the sharpest comics out there right now.

Something most people wouldn’t know about me if I didn’t tell them is that I’m from Newfoundland. I lived there for around five nonconsecutive¹ years and I’ve visited a few times since then, but I don’t often identify myself culturally as a Newfie.

But it’s still there. I might say “three” instead of “tree” but I enjoy The Mummer’s Song as much as anyone, probably more than most, and the strange beauty of the little towns and villages sprinkled along the coast is unlike anything I’ve seen in my brief experiences in other rural areas. But this set of photos from Greenland by The Big Picture is pretty damn close.

My home town’s Come Home Year celebrations² are taking place right now. I opted not to go, but these pictures give me a tinge of regret. I think I would have liked to return, if only for a while.

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Footnotes

1. Despite being born there I lack the distinctive melange of influences that is the Newfie accent due to my early departure at barely a year old. Staying in Ontario for the bulk of my early formative years, I lived a mostly normal life until my parents decided that they missed Newfoundland and moved back there. Those years were troubled for me; I had a small contingent of friends but I was decidedly an outcast in school, with my head buried in books to avoid the laughter that rang in my ears, whether fictional or figurative. Though I likely would’ve encountered the same neuroses and social pariahism during those years without the isolation, both geographic and emotional, Newfoundland offered me and that isolation was a big factor in my becoming a nerd, something I consider a plus, I still hold some (restrained) antipathy toward the island. [↩]
2. Which are exactly what you think they are. [↩]

The Smoking Gun published a new mug shot of Charles Manson earlier and I have trouble looking at it. Not because it reminds me of his barbarous acts, but because it reminds me of the humanity within even the monsters of our world. Even with that swastika permanently etched into his forehead, I have trouble looking at this picture and not feeling sorrow and pity.

The worst part is that I know this is a man completely undeserving of pity or sorrow, yet his cracked skin, his broken expression, his aging face all call to me to have those feelings. Photography has the power to imbue its subject with more than it deserves.

Those natives had the wrong idea. Photography doesn’t steal your soul, it preserves it. It puts it out there for everyone to see, even if they don’t want to.