Kyle Regan—a masochistic Stranger reader—has vowed to do every single thing recommended by the Stranger Suggests (movies, galleries, bars, concerts) for the month of January. Look for his reports daily on Slog. —Eds.
To get it out of the way, my grandmother June Regan has passed. She was a hell of a woman and the best grandmother I could hope for. Don’t feel sorry for me. I had a loving grandmother for 21 years, something not everyone can claim. This is why there was no write-up yesterday.
Anyway.
Friday’s show was great. The People’s Rebublic of Koffee turned out to be a much better venue than Capitol Club. The comedians had an actual stage. The vibe felt more comedically nurturing as well. Something about the ghettoness of stuffing a coffeehouse past capacity with mismatched chairs lent itself well to the show at hand. Highlights for me that night were Solomon Georgio, Emmett Montgomery, and headliner Hari Kondabolu. I talked with Georgio after the show about being a comic in Seattle. Comedy isn’t something Seattle is really known for. I don’t think a night of figuring out what to do with my friends has ever ended with someone suggesting stand-up. Which is a real shame considering the talent we have.
The next day I learned of my grandmother’s passing. I wasn’t sure whether I’d go or not. What was the point if I spent the whole time miserable and choking up Glenn Beck-style? I decided to attend but left late enough that if there was no parking or it sold out, I’d have an excuse not to go. Of course this was the one night on Capitol Hill that I got easy parking, early admittance, and a good seat. Funny that.
To be perfectly honest, I’m glad I went.
Stand-up is funny, sure, but it also turned out to be cathartic. I was mollified. Understand that up to that point, my day had been pretty fucking bad. I returned to the People’s Republic of Koffee with little hope for the night. When friend Ian Bell—frontman of local band Black Swedes—showed up, it raised my spirits a little. The real turn came when horror-themed improv group Blood Squad opened. I’ve never seen themed improv, let alone horror-themed improv, but they pulled it off beautifully. Ross Henderson was great and I saw Dartanion London, ringleader of the Week of Fun. London’s bit about “the funk” was my favorite of the night. The Week of Fun is clearly in good hands.
I’ve been really enjoying these events, and now I’m emotionally indebted to the performers for lifting a bit of my grief, if only for a couple hours. With plans to have regular Friday night performances and open mics at the PRoK, hopefully comedy in Seattle will be more than a joke.

R.I.P. Grandma June, glad to see you’re doing OK Kyle.
My condolences, Kyle. I totally understand that sentiment of “I’m very sad, but also incredibly grateful.” Good grandmas make childhood magical.
I could be a cynical old bastard and tell you that having your parents croak is about 1,000 times heavier than losing a grandmother, but I won’t. Oh wait, I just did. Sigh.
Happy to see you’re doing OK.
It would be immeasurably disappointing to come to Slog on the morning of February 1st and not see a post announcing the addition of Kyle Regan to the Stranger writing staff.
I know we’re not supposed to tell you we’re sorry, but I still am, Kyle. I had one grandparent growing up – and she wasn’t even a “real” grandma but a step-grandma who came into my father’s life when he was in his early 20s – but she was fucking awesome. She died when I was 14, and even now, 21 years later, I still miss her sometimes.
You’re right, of course: we’re lucky to have awesome people in our lives for however long they grace the earth. Missing them is just a tribute to how awesome they were.
Best wishes to you, Kyle, and always carry your grandma with you in your heart. I’m so sorry, and yet so glad that you went out anyway. Keep up your great work!
I don’t feel sorry for you, Kyle, but condolences nonetheless. Glad to hear PRoK was a good pick-me-up.
Agreed on adding Kyle to the Stranger staff…
I hate to be a stickler but I think it’s Ross Parsons, not Ross Henderson.