LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) -- Louisville comedian James Song takes the stage two or three nights a week at local comedy clubs, pulling material from his real life as a blind man living in Kentucky.

The crowd cracks up as he introduces himself saying "I'm the local blind guy" and then goes on to joke about his struggle with dating, learning to navigate apps with gender neutral names and how he thought a woman on a first date was taking food from his plate only to learn it was his guide dog.

"I would say I'm a storyteller," Song said in an interview with WDRB News. "They say to pull your comedy 70% from the truth."

But the truth for Song is no laughing matter.

"I had a really, pretty much rough childhood," he said. "My dad was an alcoholic, very abusive, and eventually, due to that, I got accumulated head trauma and (started going) blind when I was 10 and lost most of my vision when I was 15."

According to the National Children's Alliance, more than 500,000 kids endure child abuse each year in the United States. Song said, for many years, he was one them, and the beatings that started with a belt became more extreme overtime.

"With like golf clubs and baseball bats," Song said. "I even remember, no Asian joke intended, but like a Wok. That's a frying pan."

Song won't talk much about that man now. In fact, in our interview he wouldn't even mention his father's name. Song said his dad moved back to Korea, and his mother brought him to Louisville for safety and a better life.

"I was breaking down a lot," he said. "I felt insecure about being blind. I felt worthless but I had my best friend with me as soon as I went blind."

That best friend is Joshua Donlan, who met Song one day after he got off a school bus at the age of 10. Donlan believes it's Song's of humor that kept them so close.

"We used to go to Sunday school, and he would get me in so much trouble," Donlan said as he chuckled at the memory. "It's because he's like poking around, saying jokes, making me laugh. I'm bursting out. (The teacher would say) 'You two need to separate.'"

They'd grow as close as family, spending time together on sleepovers, family trips and even Christmas holidays. Song and Donlan dreamed of being pro wrestlers and came up with a childhood tag team named Riot and Rage. And as Song's sight started to fade, Donlon became the light he needed.

Joshua Donlan and James Song

Joshua Donlan and James Song

"I remember that moment, like specifically, we were playing video games one time and I was like 'Dude what are you doing?' And he was like 'I can't see,'" Donlan said. "He was going the wrong way."

Song also remembers that moment and, more specifically, what Donlan said to him right after: "I'll be your eyes for you."

It's a promise he's kept for 17 years.

"I love James," Donlan said. "I just love him. We have a connection that I don't think can ever be broken."

Donlon, now a professional wrestler, carries forward those childhood memories each time he heads to the ring. Song hasn't forgotten either, but his battleground is a different space: the cage.

"The technical word for it is called NoGi cage fighting," Song said. "So it's pretty much Brazilian Jiu Jitsu inside a cage."

Song wins, no joke, boasting an amateur record of 2-2. This style of combat requires the fighters to stay in contact. If there's a break, the ref resets. In some ways, he is fighting now because he couldn't defend himself before.

"It's heightened senses," Song said, describing the strategy in the case. "I'm using everything: my hearing (and) my feeling."

Donlan, keeping true to that promise from 17 years ago, is always there leading Song to the ring for each fight. He also trains Song in the gym, running with Song's hand on his shoulder or handing him the weights for the next set of reps.

"I always try to preach to James — push yourself," Donlan said. "Always work as hard as you possibly can, because good things always come from hard work."

For Song, comedy is that good thing. Every time he takes the stage, it's a triumph and a bit of therapy. He is laughing through the pain.

"In Kentucky, you can buy a gun. Anybody can buy a gun. So I bought a gun. Yup," Song said as he sets up a joke at the Louisville Comedy Club. "I tried to convince my friends to go hunting with me, but they don't want to."

He pauses and raises the inflection in his voice, prompting a roaring laugh from the crowd.

Louisville's blind comic now sees a world where anything is possible. He's gone from hurt to so funny it hurts.

"Everybody has their own struggles and their own demons," Song said. "Happiness is a choice. I have a gut feeling I'm going to make it in comedy."

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