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I Am Lonely. I Am Not The Only One.

Is Comedy the Cure to the Loneliness Epidemic?

You’ve met columnist Hannah Harris during Now Frolic’s miniseries on Festivals earlier this year. Now she’s back with a miniseries of her own — Comedy Drop. Throughout the next several months, Harris will share behind-the-scenes insight and inspiration into LA’s ever-popular comedy scene, what it’s like to participate in that community, and words of wisdom from some of the funniest mouths on the West Coast. Stay tuned!

Randee Brown, Editor

I work remotely, scrolling on my laptop or TikTok and developing “connections” with people I will never actually meet. Double screening – swapping between my TV or laptop and phone – is a norm, and in person connection is a challenge. In Los Angeles – a city connected by freeways and gridlock traffic – it is as challenging to meet people as it is to actually execute plans.

Apparently, it wasn’t always like this. I went to college during the COVID years, but at least then, there was a central gathering spot, friends living within the same block – a community. Post grad, everyone is sprawled throughout the globe. Even within LA, Silver Lake can feel just as far. 

We are facing a true “loneliness epidemic.”

Hannah Harris

According to Harvard Education (2024), about a quarter of American 18- to 29-year-olds are frequently or always lonely. The study cites reasons like overdependence on technology, lack of family time, tiredness, and mental health challenges. Participants also explained that lack of spiritual connection and the U.S.’s individualistic society contribute to loneliness. All this is to say – we are facing a true “loneliness epidemic.”

Many of us already know this. For years, headlines have graced major news outlets like the New York Times, NPR, and even the CDC, especially since the pandemic. In my next articles, I would like to examine a “cure.”

For context, I have put in the work post-grad. I was determined to find an adult hobby – feeling the full power of my early 20s/what-am-I-doing-with-my-life-now-that-I-am-not-getting-academic-validation phase. I tried pickleball; the people were cagey and kept telling me to get in the kitchen for some reason. I picked up rock climbing, went to events where you are paired with strangers and tried to maintain conversation for hours, asked people in bars (awkwardly) if they wanted to hang out … socially. While most people were kind and interesting, nothing felt like a community, and nothing truly stuck. Until I tried something else.

I admit: I am a reformed middle school theater kid. There’s a magic to the stage – the excitement of watching emotions and events unfold live, and perhaps even more importantly, watching with a group of people beside you.

I always was interested in comedy, but as a writer, I wanted to see if taking an improv class would help my writing and get me out of my head. I was eager to see if this skill set would increase my reaction time, decrease how long it takes me to come up with ideas, and help me to think less about whether they are good or bad, to attach myself less to how others perceive me. I joke that, as a person, I am extremely risk adverse – that I will have a beer on a Tuesday and think I’m the most wild, crazy girl in the world. 

There’s a magic to the stage – the excitement of watching emotions and events unfold live, and perhaps even more importantly, watching with a group of people beside you.

Hannah Harris

That’s not to say that I am an introvert; I love being around people and crave connection. However, I do have an introverted brain – hyperanalyzing my every word before it comes out of my mouth and the potential consequences of my actions, living in my brain instead of participating in the life I am living. For someone like me, impulsivity might actually be character growth. So I impulsively (after two weeks consideration and a pros/cons list) purchased a $500 improv class.

I guess the title should have originally read: I was lonely. Sometimes I still am, but what I do know is that comedy class changed my life. As difficult as it was, I tried to constantly affirm that risk-taking is good, we are here to just say things, and I can be in the present moment – something I historically thought was nearly impossible for myself. I found exactly this, but I never could have imagined how letting my guard down and embracing openness would be the ideal catalyst for community.

I began not only studying the technique, but also frequenting shows along with my classmates. Suddenly, I had people. We have established a classic routine of going to Birds in Hollywood (named for Hitchcock, of course) then hitting an Upright Citizens Brigade show. There, I found people who will keep the joke going long after it should have ended — the people who were open, weirdly confident (and confidently weird), inviting, and some of the funniest I have ever met. Most of these people are also out of their comfort zones, and I was surprised to find a lot of them with my shared experience of not being able to get out of my head. We commiserated; that was our Kryptonite when it comes to improv – thinking too much. I felt understood.

When I am watching a live performance – whether improv, sketch, or standup – I always look around and take in the audience. Everyone has a different reaction, laughing and clapping at a perfectly ridiculous joke or wincing when something doesn’t quite land. I love collectively experiencing a live show that only exists in that very moment. It feels especially important when the world is burning right outside those doors (either literally here in LA, or metaphorically anywhere). In that room, the air feels vulnerable and free — the opposite of loneliness.

I knew how I felt, but I wanted to know why. What was so unique about this space? Was it the live performance, the comedy, or some combination? What led all these unique people here? With this series of articles, I am setting out to learn about just that, focusing on the different comedic communities in Los Angeles, and most importantly how and why it brings people together. 

I honestly think there’s something chemical about it, like we’re all sharing atoms, oxygen, and energy together.

Deric Brown

In the words of Deric Brown – a performer on an Upright Citizens Brigade house team, “Everyone feeds off the energy in the room. No matter what happens, that exact feeling and moment won’t ever be repeated. I honestly think there’s something chemical about it, like we’re all sharing atoms, oxygen, and energy together. Disclaimer: I’m a comedy writer and have zero actual science knowledge.” He is the best.

Over my next set of articles, I’ll explore if he is also correct.

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Hannah Harris is a writer and creative based in Los Angeles, CA. She has over five years of media experience, known for her work as a podcast producer (iHeartPodcasts’ The Office Deep Dive, Off The Beat, XOXO) and coordinator on A&E’s Kings of BBQ. Her work spans across screenwriting, fiction, creative nonfiction, and journalism. In her free time, she can be found watching (and analyzing) television — or pursuing her very serious comedy career with her team. She can be reached at [email protected].