Not Laughing Now

It was thirty four years ago that I joined Framingham State College's newspaper The Gatepost and aspired to interview Bobcat Goldthwait, who was performing on campus that semester with his friend, fellow comic and opening act Tony V. 

I had no journalism skills, could barely write and never conducted an interview. There was no chance of it ever happening. I wrote a summary the event. It wasn't very well written.

A college friend at the time kept poking fun impersonating me 

"Bobcat! Chad Parenteau, The Gatepost."  

It stung a little. My enthusiasm has always made me an easy target.

It hurt a little more because he was a much better writer than most, though he rarely wrote anything for publication, which baffled and frustrated me. 

I got over it. I eventually learned to write. 

I even learned to write better long after I finished school.

Last night I saw Goldthwait perform at The Comedy Studio in Cambridge.

It was everything I hoped for. 

It was the first time I've seen him live since college, and college was the first time ever seeing him or any comic I knew live. 

It was also my first time going to the Studio since the nineties when it was located above a Chinese restaurant. Back then, I saw feature DJ Savage and open micer Val Kappa, who was a student in a freshman writing class taught by one of my grad school roommates.

I found out a few days ago that the college friend who mocked me all those years ago is not doing well. He has taken to wandering around Cambridge and elsewhere like another sick friend did last year. 

I entertained the idea of trying to see if I could get him to come with me to the show. I had too much going on with work and medical appointments to reach out.

Goldthwait is a performer I have followed since his appearance in Police Academy 2 and his HBO special Share the Warmth. 

 I've seen films he's directed like God Bless America and the Barry Crimmins documentary Call Me Lucky. If it wasn't for the latter film, I would have never gone to see Crimmins perform in 2017, just a year before he passed away.

I thought about trying to approach Goldthwait to say thank you and give him a copy of my latest book. Maybe even ask him some questions about God Bless America, which I want to write an essay about.

I decided it wasn't right to force a full circle moment.

What would it have proven? That I won after all these years? 

It doesn't change the fact that someone I've known for over thirty years is not well. 

It doesn't stop me from wondering how I haven't broken down like so many others after all this time. 

Now I'm remembering Goldthwait's material about his dear friend the late Robin Williams.

Sometimes artists keep going. Sometimes we don't. 

Sometimes it's just as simple as that.