For the next five days, Richard Lewis will seldom leave his North Dallas hotel room, hidden away at the far end of the top floor with a view of overpasses, office buildings and distant dark clouds. He will venture out only to visit a couple of radio and television stations, to plug his four-night stand at the Improv, and make the short trip to the club every night. But those rare sojourns aside, he will hole up with room service and his laptop, poring over hours' worth of stand-up material stored with such titles as "Mid-Life Crisis" and "Recovery." Lewis spends eight hours a day perusing the material, hoping to recall 10 to 15 minutes' worth of new stuff by the time he takes to the stage he stalks like a twitchy, trendy mental patient clad entirely in... More >>>
The Prince of Pain feels good: Richard LewisÂ’ sobriety has given him newfound clarity. He now hates himself even more.