April E. Brucker's Blog, page 48
July 7, 2013
Thomas Paine's Nightmare
A close up of a disaster in progress"These are the times that try men's souls. That the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, sink from the service of their country...." Words said by Thomas Paine. One of the greatest orators of his time, Thomas Paine was quite revolutionary for a revolutionary. During an era where people relied on religion out of fear, he questioned God. In a time when women were regarded as simple breeding machines, he addressed them in his speeches. When the forefathers wanted freedom despite owning slaves, he chastised them. Then he continued his mission to the French Revolution where he served in their government despite knowing no French. Sure, he was declared an enemy of the Republic later. But yes, he was an activist. As a matter of fact rumor has it that the Constitution was ghost written by Tommy Paine.So on the Fourth of July my friend Kelly and I decided to protest. It was a last minute thing really. Our friend Vips was just as surprised as we were. In our fury, we wanted to stop illegal search and seizure. We wanted to yell and scream about how the Fourth Amendment was being broken and abused. Our friend Vips however, was protesting the protest. He said this was a surprise to him and he was hungry. So he wanted to eat. Kelly was more fired up than I was. And then Vips argued that he was really hungry. So I proposed we would protest and then eat. We agreed it was a good idea.
Tommy Paine's soul has been tried and he is slitting his wrists in the afterlifeWe took a train to Union Square. When we got there the protest had already left. The march went down to Wall Street. How had we missed everyone? Kelly was misinformed and said it had started two hours earlier. So we went to search for the march. We walked along and saw no one. Desperate to get her point across, Kelly held her sign. We went to find a bus and found none. Kelly then went on a rant about Bloomberg cutting the buses. Vips, tired and hungry, decided he was taking matters into his own hands. That is when he hailed a cab and off to Foley Square we went.
Our cab driver decided to take the long way. Partly out of stupidity and partly out of construction. Vips questioned his driving and Kelly began to yell at the cab driver. I told her to save her energy for the protest.
When we got to Foley Square the protest had ended. However some people had left their signs. Kelly suggested we continued protesting. At this point I was so over it. Vips was way over it. Kelly said there were two of us into it, and I was like, "Yeah, one and a half." That is when Kelly decided to smoke a cigarette and had me hold her sign for five minutes. I was like, WTF! It's your sign. Don't have me do your protest. And then she took her sign back. I picked up a leftover sign and we stood there for a few minutes. Instead of being angry, the cops laughed. Then Vips, thinking this was so funny, took our photos.
We then decided to screw the protest and party.
In 1774, the minutemen who had no experience and lots of heart took on the British army. Yes, they were massacred and had no idea what they were doing but knew they were mad as hell. Kelly's sign asked, "Are you a true liberal. Do you like liberty or tyranny? And all these years later, America still doesn't know what it is doing. If Thomas Paine could have seen us he would have rolled around in his grave. However, his grave was moved and his bones were lost so that adds more insult to injury. I think when he wrote Common Sense Thomas Paine saw a utopia. Instead, what he got were two crazy women who were yelling and screaming and ended up missing the protest.
"These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot, will in crisis, sink from the service of their country...."
All dressed up and no protest to go toxoxoxo
April
www.aprilbrucker.com
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
July 3, 2013
Dear Joe (Jimi Hendrix)
Dear Joe,
It was two years ago today that you left us. I remember the first time we met. You told me you were a Scorpio, a triple Scorpio. And I was like, "AHHH!" You told me I was much too sweet for your sting and I laughed. That was the moment I knew I liked you.
I was immediately taken by your gentle smile and laugh when we met. You were deep, thoughtful, and most of all kind. In life's journey, we very rarely meet true friends. You were a true friend. Why, how did I know this? You told me off the bat when you thought I was being a moron. Granted, it was most of the time in those days. But still, you always knew the words to get me right back on track. I remember one time I had some stupid scheme. This married dude who liked me was trying to worm his way back into my life. You just looked at me and said, "No, April. Just no." And then in the next breath you asked me if I ever got tired of fucking up my life. It was like a slap to my face with a bucket of cold water for days. But you were a friend and that is why you did that. If you weren't a friend, you would have let me go on my stupid way.
The thing I have to thank you for is that you really got me to write again. In my early twenties when I was high on self-loathing I found myself in an abusive relationship. My former fiance told me my writing was terrible and I dropped the ball in that arena. When you knew me I got a job for a freelance rag that is now defunct and I was writing about my former flames. You look a look at it and called it "dribble." You knew about the telegram job and asked me why I didn't write about that because it sounded more interesting. I told you I had always wanted to write a book but was afraid I wouldn't know where to start. You asked me if I was afraid or just lazy. Then you kept asking me how I was coming along on the book and I kept lying to you and telling you I was really busy on it. Finally I just did it. I spent an entire summer writing.
I also remember how you were like the gay older brother I never had. You always had a pep talk and could put me in the right direction. But you also liked dirty jokes and hot guys too. Walking down the street with you was always a treat because you worked on movie sets and knew everyone. Of course, they were always just as happy to see you. I remember during one of your older brother talks I told you how frustrated I was with my career and you told me to relax and not to push so hard. You told me I was too funny to be passed over. You also told me every time I talked I had a responsibility to be positive because people listened to me.
Two years ago today I was pitching the book when I found out you had died. I know you took your own life and there are a dozen reasons why you chose this action. Although it means you left our world and those that love you are deprived of your company, I understand and respect your decision. I know you have found peace, and that is what I want for you as your friend. Every once in a while, I do visit your facebook page like the trainwreck basketcase that I am to give you updates on my career. It is in part because you were always so proud of me when I did well. It is also in part because in my heart and mind I believe sometimes you come in to read it. However, I know you are in heaven. You were a wonderful person. Yes, you had your issues, who doesn't? But we were lucky to have had you as long as we did. Now God has you and I know you are feng shuiing in heaven. The place probably does need a makeover.
My mother once told me energy is neither created nor destroyed. Every once in a while you do pop up. Sometimes I think I see you walking around Chelsea. Sometimes you appear in my dreams like you did the other night. I was going through some stuff and you talked me out of being my crazy, stupid self. Thank you sweet angel. I am blessed because you were right, I am too funny to be ignored. Things are coming together. The book you got me to write is part of the collection at Barnes and Noble, Brown, NYU, and other places. They want me to speak at some high class places. I mention you in the epilogue by the way. It is becoming an audiobook too. I would have never had the guts to do any of this had we never met. I would have still been a scared twenty-something who's voice had been silenced by low self-worth and bad decisions. While I am grateful to have known you, sometimes it still rips my heart out that you are not here with me in person.
Right now I am crying, destroying my mascara as I write. I am having the successful career you always told me I would have. I also know you would want me to find a guy that treats me well and live happily ever after that isn't married. This past week I collected my six year coins. While you weren't laughing at my quippy speeches or crazy stories you were with me in spirit. Rest in Peace Dear Heart, and don't rip on me for being an old lady when we meet again and wearing Alfred Dunner as well as having wrinkles. Oh, and you better save the good gossip for when I come. We will have an eternity to catch up on.
xoxox
April
It was two years ago today that you left us. I remember the first time we met. You told me you were a Scorpio, a triple Scorpio. And I was like, "AHHH!" You told me I was much too sweet for your sting and I laughed. That was the moment I knew I liked you.
I was immediately taken by your gentle smile and laugh when we met. You were deep, thoughtful, and most of all kind. In life's journey, we very rarely meet true friends. You were a true friend. Why, how did I know this? You told me off the bat when you thought I was being a moron. Granted, it was most of the time in those days. But still, you always knew the words to get me right back on track. I remember one time I had some stupid scheme. This married dude who liked me was trying to worm his way back into my life. You just looked at me and said, "No, April. Just no." And then in the next breath you asked me if I ever got tired of fucking up my life. It was like a slap to my face with a bucket of cold water for days. But you were a friend and that is why you did that. If you weren't a friend, you would have let me go on my stupid way.
The thing I have to thank you for is that you really got me to write again. In my early twenties when I was high on self-loathing I found myself in an abusive relationship. My former fiance told me my writing was terrible and I dropped the ball in that arena. When you knew me I got a job for a freelance rag that is now defunct and I was writing about my former flames. You look a look at it and called it "dribble." You knew about the telegram job and asked me why I didn't write about that because it sounded more interesting. I told you I had always wanted to write a book but was afraid I wouldn't know where to start. You asked me if I was afraid or just lazy. Then you kept asking me how I was coming along on the book and I kept lying to you and telling you I was really busy on it. Finally I just did it. I spent an entire summer writing.
I also remember how you were like the gay older brother I never had. You always had a pep talk and could put me in the right direction. But you also liked dirty jokes and hot guys too. Walking down the street with you was always a treat because you worked on movie sets and knew everyone. Of course, they were always just as happy to see you. I remember during one of your older brother talks I told you how frustrated I was with my career and you told me to relax and not to push so hard. You told me I was too funny to be passed over. You also told me every time I talked I had a responsibility to be positive because people listened to me.
Two years ago today I was pitching the book when I found out you had died. I know you took your own life and there are a dozen reasons why you chose this action. Although it means you left our world and those that love you are deprived of your company, I understand and respect your decision. I know you have found peace, and that is what I want for you as your friend. Every once in a while, I do visit your facebook page like the trainwreck basketcase that I am to give you updates on my career. It is in part because you were always so proud of me when I did well. It is also in part because in my heart and mind I believe sometimes you come in to read it. However, I know you are in heaven. You were a wonderful person. Yes, you had your issues, who doesn't? But we were lucky to have had you as long as we did. Now God has you and I know you are feng shuiing in heaven. The place probably does need a makeover.
My mother once told me energy is neither created nor destroyed. Every once in a while you do pop up. Sometimes I think I see you walking around Chelsea. Sometimes you appear in my dreams like you did the other night. I was going through some stuff and you talked me out of being my crazy, stupid self. Thank you sweet angel. I am blessed because you were right, I am too funny to be ignored. Things are coming together. The book you got me to write is part of the collection at Barnes and Noble, Brown, NYU, and other places. They want me to speak at some high class places. I mention you in the epilogue by the way. It is becoming an audiobook too. I would have never had the guts to do any of this had we never met. I would have still been a scared twenty-something who's voice had been silenced by low self-worth and bad decisions. While I am grateful to have known you, sometimes it still rips my heart out that you are not here with me in person.
Right now I am crying, destroying my mascara as I write. I am having the successful career you always told me I would have. I also know you would want me to find a guy that treats me well and live happily ever after that isn't married. This past week I collected my six year coins. While you weren't laughing at my quippy speeches or crazy stories you were with me in spirit. Rest in Peace Dear Heart, and don't rip on me for being an old lady when we meet again and wearing Alfred Dunner as well as having wrinkles. Oh, and you better save the good gossip for when I come. We will have an eternity to catch up on.
xoxox
April
July 1, 2013
To Wong Foo: This is Soooo GAAy
Gay Marriage is legal. We saw it happen yesterday on the Swish floatOkay, yesterday was Pride as you know and I was out and about with my Booski Bernard aka Teena the Ballerina for the day. Our plan: to crash the parade and make a scene. Bernard came to my place to change into his costume. As soon as he entered my domain, we began to gossip like a good little gay boy and fruit fly. During his transformation, Bernard discovered he was missing his eyelash glue. He could not be Teena without any eyelash glue!!!!So off to the corner store I went. On my way there I was in my outfit and got the thumbs up from several of the homos in my hood. However I was slightly gay bashed. One old Jew saw me and sneered, "Lesbian!" I thought, if it means I don't have to date you I will be munching rug until the end of time, Pal. What a dickass. But nevermind him, no dick would want to go near his ass.
I came back to my apartment and told Bernard of my ordeal and he comforted me. We would be where we could be safe in no time, the Fairy Tale Kingdom of LGBTQ Land. So off to the Parade we went. As we were forced to walk through Hederoville, we got some stares from families and children but wheves. We would be on Fifth soon enough. And once we were, we heard, "HAPPY PRIDE!!!" Immediately, people were in love with our costumes and kept taking our photos. Of course, before we did this Bernard and I laid an intention to our higher power so that we could bring love and joy and rainbows!!!!!!
We took photos with several strangers and plotted where to break into the parade. That is when we saw Bernard's friend Khalil, code name Heidi. Heidi was dressed in drag with fake tits that spouted liquor. A welcome surprise, it was three brains, one totally biologically woman and two lady for the day. Bernard whined about wearing heals and wondered how women did it. I offered to lend him my uterus next year for the full effect along with a side of sexism. We had a laugh. As we walked down the street there were more and more photos taken when Bernard commanded that Officer E be taken out, aka the gay child in my puppet family.
The photos became more and more and we began to search for a way in. But oh no, 26 street was detoured. So we panicked. I told the homos to stay calm, while they were only dressed as women there was a real one in charge. That is when we went around and came in through 23rd and 5th. We broke in the parade. Bernard and Khalil wanted a float with music and paced up and down Fifth as the parade was going. I told them to behave. We had worked so hard to crash the parade, now we were going to get kicked out. Just then the parade marshall made a motion for us to move, and I yelled, "Step lively, homos!" And off we went.
We ended up initially crashing the Bueno Float and skipping along with signs. I took out Officer E and we were hugging and kissing strangers. Bernard and Khalil and I took a shitload of photos, and we just kept dancing in the streets for marriage equality. We were so good the Bueno camp even gave us signs! The music was good and the pictures were snapping. We were part of Pride. We were part of history. People were happy. As Officer E (Or Officer Bottom as my homos call him) and I were hugging and kissing strangers, I wondered what my mother would say. She would probably be shoving a Z Pack in my direction but alas.
The music on the Bueno float ceased to be good and plus we were losing Khalil and his vodka tits and Bernard had also been MIA on one occasion while taking a photo or two. So we joined the Swish float. They had better music and there were people on there getting wedded. As we were dancing with the Swish float I heard, "APRIL!" That is when I saw some of my friends. Then I saw more of my friends. Everyone was watching me in the parade!!!!! As we danced with the Swish float some girl accosted me for a picture and asked, "I saw you on TV. You have your puppet. This is so cool." I was like McSweet.
Then as we danced down the street and I was jumping up and down with my puppet and I kissing the strangers the Swish float stopped. There was a wedding happening. DOMA had been overturned. Bernard, Khalil and I watched the nuptials and felt tears come to our eyes. Perhaps Bernard was right. I should not give up on true love. As the parade ended I was recognized by a little gay boy who said, "You were on TV with those puppets, right?" I was like yes. And I told him to tell the world April Brucker and her puppet children loved everyone regardless of race, color, creed, orientation and whatnot.
And then as the parade wound down the drag queen announcing told me to shake it. It was like completing a marathon. The three of us, lost souls in the world of drag, danced our way to the parade's end and kissed and hugged several more strangers. We took photos with some folks and then as we made our way in the gaycentric West Village we eyed out for a place to sit down. All the while more friends came my way. This was funtastic.
As we continued taking pics a third girl said, "I recognized your face but when I saw that puppet I knew who you were." I was like wowsa, recognized three times. Do I get a Gay Bingo or perhaps a hot black stud chick to throw me over her shoulder and make sweet love to me? You have to throw in both. It is Pride.
Finally, we ended up getting some greasy fried chicken. Khalil split to meet friends. Bernard and I ate and talked to some straight dude who supported. My friend Justin dropped by and gave me some gossip on people we both hated. Bernard then split to go to a boat party, and I was supposed to meet up with another friend but it didnt happen. I think she was too tired. But anywho, it was a fun day. On my walk home took more photos, made more friends, and kissed and hugged more strangers.
Now to take some vitamins.
The homos are hibernating today. But I am proud of my gay friends being who they are. I am proud to be their friend and that we share our friendship. And yes, even when they realize that being a woman once a year is enough.
Happy Day After Pride!!!
What happens on Christopher St. stays on Christopher St.xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 30, 2013
Fighting Back
A few weeks ago, I was minding my own business on the street in Manhattan. It was the day before I was to be published in the Huffington Post. Things were going well. That is, when I was approached by a man I knew in passing. We began talking and the next thing I knew he grabbed my hand. His grip was hard, iron clad. I asked him to let my hand go and he said no. I repeatedly asked him until I yanked it out.
I was alarmed. I never realized this acquaintance was such a sick fuck. As a young person, and I have written about this, I experienced a violent relationship with a former fiancé. One thing about me is that I don't take any kind of bullying-especially bullying from a man-lying down. So just when I didn't think it could get worse it did. The idiot asked me if I could have a hug. I told him no. And then he had the nerve to ask me why. That is when I cursed him out. I was so angry and scared that I didn't know what he was going to do next. But this idiot wasn't going to take advantage of me. So I stomped on his foot, spit on him, and ran in the other direction. For the rest of the day I was so angry. I was angry some sick man thought he could take advantage of me because I was a woman who wasn't all that big. I was angry that for as bright and accomplished as I was, and as many women are, we still are treated like second class citizens on the street. I was angry that in a world where women supposedly have equal rights we are still victims to sadists who feel this behavior is appropriate.
Later, I found out this idiot had a history of doing this to women. Many of these women either got upset and changed their routine as not to see this creep, or they just felt uncomfortable and sick. They told me I was a "hero." Still, the whole experience left me shaken. I wanted to believe so badly sexism was dead, but unfortunately the beast is alive and well.
I am writing this because had I not known self-defense I would have been a victim. While women's rights have come a long way, unfortunately we are still moving targets on the street. There are men who still prey on us. This is why we need to fight back.
I am writing this blog to encourage all women to take self-defense. Take it at your local YMCA or karate school. Not only is it a good workout, but it also centers you and is a great way to express anger management. The common misconception about self-defense is that it teaches you to be a hot head. The first thing any self-defense instructor will tell you is that a truly brave person avoids conflict, and fights when they have no other option.
Yesterday Aries, the assistant, spoke of a champion MMA fighter who had come out of an abusive marriage and trained with him. Having no money, she cleaned mats at his gym. But she trained and said she would never let that happen to her again. It gave me hope not just after my little scuffle, but that I had been doing the right thing by transforming myself from the pathetic person who had endured the bully of a partner I had at twenty-one.
It was the universe's subtle way of letting me know that yes, this was a good thing I was doing for myself and I had to continue to do good things for myself. It also let me know that it was going to be alright. The message self-defense gives women is that they can only be victims if they allow themselves. The message I give anyone regardless of race, color, creed, or gender is that you are only a victim if you allow others to make you so. It also makes me more fearless with my activism. While that is an identity that makes some uncomfortable, it serves to help others.
There are no victims, there are only volunteers.
If my message is too much for some (and when I say some I mean mostly men unfortunately), I am sorry I am not in the comfortable mold called pathetic woman. If my message is too in your face, I am sorry I don't speak like a lady. If you think labeling me as an angry woman for the way I handled that dip shit is appropriate, do it. I will lose no sleep.
I could speak about the issues the world at large has against women. About how the white, hederosexist majority has declared a war against my gender. About how religion in general has declared a war against my gender. But that is for another blog. However, one must always fight back.
That is why I recommend Jeanene and Aries at the UFC Gym. Request their seminar when you can.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
I was alarmed. I never realized this acquaintance was such a sick fuck. As a young person, and I have written about this, I experienced a violent relationship with a former fiancé. One thing about me is that I don't take any kind of bullying-especially bullying from a man-lying down. So just when I didn't think it could get worse it did. The idiot asked me if I could have a hug. I told him no. And then he had the nerve to ask me why. That is when I cursed him out. I was so angry and scared that I didn't know what he was going to do next. But this idiot wasn't going to take advantage of me. So I stomped on his foot, spit on him, and ran in the other direction. For the rest of the day I was so angry. I was angry some sick man thought he could take advantage of me because I was a woman who wasn't all that big. I was angry that for as bright and accomplished as I was, and as many women are, we still are treated like second class citizens on the street. I was angry that in a world where women supposedly have equal rights we are still victims to sadists who feel this behavior is appropriate.
Later, I found out this idiot had a history of doing this to women. Many of these women either got upset and changed their routine as not to see this creep, or they just felt uncomfortable and sick. They told me I was a "hero." Still, the whole experience left me shaken. I wanted to believe so badly sexism was dead, but unfortunately the beast is alive and well.
I am writing this because had I not known self-defense I would have been a victim. While women's rights have come a long way, unfortunately we are still moving targets on the street. There are men who still prey on us. This is why we need to fight back.
I am writing this blog to encourage all women to take self-defense. Take it at your local YMCA or karate school. Not only is it a good workout, but it also centers you and is a great way to express anger management. The common misconception about self-defense is that it teaches you to be a hot head. The first thing any self-defense instructor will tell you is that a truly brave person avoids conflict, and fights when they have no other option.
Yesterday Aries, the assistant, spoke of a champion MMA fighter who had come out of an abusive marriage and trained with him. Having no money, she cleaned mats at his gym. But she trained and said she would never let that happen to her again. It gave me hope not just after my little scuffle, but that I had been doing the right thing by transforming myself from the pathetic person who had endured the bully of a partner I had at twenty-one.
It was the universe's subtle way of letting me know that yes, this was a good thing I was doing for myself and I had to continue to do good things for myself. It also let me know that it was going to be alright. The message self-defense gives women is that they can only be victims if they allow themselves. The message I give anyone regardless of race, color, creed, or gender is that you are only a victim if you allow others to make you so. It also makes me more fearless with my activism. While that is an identity that makes some uncomfortable, it serves to help others.
There are no victims, there are only volunteers.
If my message is too much for some (and when I say some I mean mostly men unfortunately), I am sorry I am not in the comfortable mold called pathetic woman. If my message is too in your face, I am sorry I don't speak like a lady. If you think labeling me as an angry woman for the way I handled that dip shit is appropriate, do it. I will lose no sleep.
I could speak about the issues the world at large has against women. About how the white, hederosexist majority has declared a war against my gender. About how religion in general has declared a war against my gender. But that is for another blog. However, one must always fight back.
That is why I recommend Jeanene and Aries at the UFC Gym. Request their seminar when you can.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 29, 2013
Feeling Weird
This is a weird time of year for me. A lot happened around this time six years ago that would take a book to get into, so I won't. I feel a mix of emotions. There is a part of me that feels so proud and so serene. And the other half of me feels fucking depressed.
I feel like just staying the fuck in bed and almost did Friday. Hell I slept for thirteen hours between Thursday and Friday. Some of it is I think I have been working a lot. Father's Day weekend I toured the tri-state in between the puppets and telegrams. Plus the telegrams have been keeping me busy. Before that I published in Huff Po, which was cool and was author of the week. And the website is almost up and the audiobook is finished and just needs music. It has been busy and maybe I am just tired.
Tuesday I was recognized by a fan which is crazy. I was walking along when these guys who work at some sound engineer school said hi and the one kid knew me as the puppet girl. I was like, awesome. It started when someone read the name April on my bag and the rest was history. Lots of young guys are putting the moves on me. It's like being in high school again, except this time guys are actually talking to me.
LOLOL
I find myself also with a lot of cool projects which is cool. Okay, my adjectives are so nondescript. One is a TV thing that is in infancy which is cool. Another is a possible piece for a bigger news source. On top of that the audiobook is coming out. Things are cool. On the other hand, none of it might come to anything. There is always this fear of being all and then being nothing at once.
As I struggle my way up the ladder, despite being a minor celebrity in some ways, I find the strike against me because I am not a white guy that looks like a Ken Doll. When I tell this to dudes in comedy they don't understand. I just feel like the white hederosexist male paradigm is standing on my neck. The women are no better. They are quicker to go Tonya Harding. Maybe I am obsessed with gender and gender roles lately, but woman is more than what is outside and inside but my political identity. As I get older, the role of woman in my personal and political life becomes more full. Sorry if it is too much for the world I live in. Sorry if I care about my reproductive rights and my safety when it comes to not being groped. SORRY!
I feel like hiding in some ways. I am not a Ken Doll. I am not a big breasted bimbiotic freakshow who earns her fucking career on her back. I am a hardworking career woman who is alone and pushes a bolder up a hill daily. Of course I get no metal. I am not running around with a bikini and a machine gun. Instead I have my words and they say I whine.
I have no idea what is next for me.
Maybe more comedy stuff. But again, I am kind of exiled from the clubs being a woman making it her own way. Not to mention I am not safe and bake cookies. In addition, I am not the ethnic group of the moment and I don't look like a Ken Doll. And as someone who doesn't live at the all you can eat buffet people don't assume I am funny. Oh and while we are on it I am not an annoying mom comic. So who knows?
Maybe more TV. But I am not a model. I am not going to be in Playboy anytime soon. The only thing America wants to see is some former beauty queen who never had a bad day in her life or some Playboy Model who can't speak but looks pretty. A safe woman for America...
Maybe some acting. But I am not stuck up with a twig up my ass and don't take myself so seriously. Plus I don't look like I am in constant pain.
Maybe more music. Well my radio stuff was an accident. I have cousins and friends who have real skill and my lack of talent is apparent as compared to them. Call it lightning in a bottle. But then again if I shake my ass like every tramp with a music video I too could be a soul train dancer.
Maybe more writing. But I am not a professional victim like most women writers, and I am not a fan of the habitual chauvinism of most male writers.
Who knows? I love when I write these trainwreck blogs.
Anyway, I am going to kick box. Perhaps I need to hit something. The Ken Doll boys are all looks. The model girls would break a nail. The female writers would write essays speaking victimese. The actors would cry. The comedians would make a bit. But in the end fuck them all. I can win a street
fight.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
I feel like just staying the fuck in bed and almost did Friday. Hell I slept for thirteen hours between Thursday and Friday. Some of it is I think I have been working a lot. Father's Day weekend I toured the tri-state in between the puppets and telegrams. Plus the telegrams have been keeping me busy. Before that I published in Huff Po, which was cool and was author of the week. And the website is almost up and the audiobook is finished and just needs music. It has been busy and maybe I am just tired.
Tuesday I was recognized by a fan which is crazy. I was walking along when these guys who work at some sound engineer school said hi and the one kid knew me as the puppet girl. I was like, awesome. It started when someone read the name April on my bag and the rest was history. Lots of young guys are putting the moves on me. It's like being in high school again, except this time guys are actually talking to me.
LOLOL
I find myself also with a lot of cool projects which is cool. Okay, my adjectives are so nondescript. One is a TV thing that is in infancy which is cool. Another is a possible piece for a bigger news source. On top of that the audiobook is coming out. Things are cool. On the other hand, none of it might come to anything. There is always this fear of being all and then being nothing at once.
As I struggle my way up the ladder, despite being a minor celebrity in some ways, I find the strike against me because I am not a white guy that looks like a Ken Doll. When I tell this to dudes in comedy they don't understand. I just feel like the white hederosexist male paradigm is standing on my neck. The women are no better. They are quicker to go Tonya Harding. Maybe I am obsessed with gender and gender roles lately, but woman is more than what is outside and inside but my political identity. As I get older, the role of woman in my personal and political life becomes more full. Sorry if it is too much for the world I live in. Sorry if I care about my reproductive rights and my safety when it comes to not being groped. SORRY!
I feel like hiding in some ways. I am not a Ken Doll. I am not a big breasted bimbiotic freakshow who earns her fucking career on her back. I am a hardworking career woman who is alone and pushes a bolder up a hill daily. Of course I get no metal. I am not running around with a bikini and a machine gun. Instead I have my words and they say I whine.
I have no idea what is next for me.
Maybe more comedy stuff. But again, I am kind of exiled from the clubs being a woman making it her own way. Not to mention I am not safe and bake cookies. In addition, I am not the ethnic group of the moment and I don't look like a Ken Doll. And as someone who doesn't live at the all you can eat buffet people don't assume I am funny. Oh and while we are on it I am not an annoying mom comic. So who knows?
Maybe more TV. But I am not a model. I am not going to be in Playboy anytime soon. The only thing America wants to see is some former beauty queen who never had a bad day in her life or some Playboy Model who can't speak but looks pretty. A safe woman for America...
Maybe some acting. But I am not stuck up with a twig up my ass and don't take myself so seriously. Plus I don't look like I am in constant pain.
Maybe more music. Well my radio stuff was an accident. I have cousins and friends who have real skill and my lack of talent is apparent as compared to them. Call it lightning in a bottle. But then again if I shake my ass like every tramp with a music video I too could be a soul train dancer.
Maybe more writing. But I am not a professional victim like most women writers, and I am not a fan of the habitual chauvinism of most male writers.
Who knows? I love when I write these trainwreck blogs.
Anyway, I am going to kick box. Perhaps I need to hit something. The Ken Doll boys are all looks. The model girls would break a nail. The female writers would write essays speaking victimese. The actors would cry. The comedians would make a bit. But in the end fuck them all. I can win a street
fight.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 28, 2013
Making My Own Standards
I am an outspoken woman. I am a political activist in addition to everything else I do. I seek to end bullying, homophobia, and domestic violence. I seek to also end violence against women. I seek to end hate of any kind. I seek to change the world. I seek to end all wrongs. Every sentence starts with "I" which means yes, there is much ego to all my causes. I seek also to get rights for those suffering from HIV and those who are marginalized such as drug addicts. Yes, I believe addiction is a disease naysayers. Science proves my point.
So what I am saying dudes is, sorry, won't be making you a sandwich anytime soon. Won't be joining you and your boys for a poker night. Won't be the decoration on your arm that doesn't talk that you will get to fuck later. Sorry fellas, I have better things to do than be your maid that doubles as your whore.
It amazes me how despite the advances women have made sexism is alive and well. Whether it is the men who seek to redefine rape because of a selfish pro-life agenda, or whether it is the women who back them just to belong to the so called boys club. Or sometimes it is guys saying women take things too personally, such as a remark about sexual assault or music where violence against women is glorified. The members of this boys club say when women get offended, they lose their power. However, when we sit back and let this speech occur, we find ourselves as victims and wonder why and how this happened in the first place. We get upset when Chris Brown hits Rihanna, yet when rappers speak about "smacking a ho" they make millions of dollars a minute.
I was told when I started comedy that being a woman was a strike against me. I never believed it until I saw some television time. The first to say it wasn't fair that I was getting ahead were the so called guys who had been what I now loosely term as friends. According to them, I was sleeping around to advance my career. They said it was wrong I was getting the television time I was. There were women who also took joy in ripping me down. It hurt, but it was pathetic on their part because they wanted to establish themselves as members of the club that badly. Either way, I never realized what a detriment it was to be born a woman until I walked into a club and was bumped my several (male) headliners just because they could. I have never gotten over the sting. While I have not left comedy per se, we have been strange bedfellows for a while. Sure, they can't ban me but in many ways I have been exiled for doing my business the way I do. However, ironically, if I were a man I would be a genius and a folk hero.
The same double standard exists within the ventriloquist community. I remember being badmouthed on several message boards by white, Christian, older, men who claimed I was abusing their art form to further my career. They believed trash printed by those who hated me on a tabloid. Of course one woman came on as sort of an apologist in my court but she was quickly ripped down by the majority. Several of these so called Christians have been vocal about me not being welcome at the ventriloquist events. Granted, I don't think my puppets would be welcome. One is gay. Another is a former drug addict turned Christian who tried to kill her boyfriend and won't repent. Another is a slut. Of course there is the Christian puppet in my collection that was successful in killing her husband. Another is a drunk. The list goes on. Maybe they aren't Godly puppets, but however, they prove a bigger point. The point is that addicts deserve compassion like anyone else, and sluts and gays are a member of our world. Actually slut is a terrible word that seeks to marginalize women. I prefer the word sexually free.
Same in the writing world. Because I do not speak the same victimese many women memoir writers do, I am not welcome on many a women's panel. I do not let the terrible things that have happened in my life define me, that would give the male world the freedom to knock me down. I also find that because I do not wallow in the low self-worth many women writers do, I find I have no support behind them. Fine, I don't write about feelings or the stupidity of emotion. At the same time, I have had many male writers put me in my so called place for the way I published by book. Apparently this makes me less of a writer. Last time I checked Mensa never endorsed their books. Last time I checked they weren't in the collection of any Ivy League Schools. So I suppose this makes me the odd one out at dinner, the guest no one invited on the list that accidentally showed up because she saw the flier for the party.
When I directed my music video for "Stay" I based the character I played not only off the libel written about me, but also off of Calypso the Cave Witch. She was the demi-goddess who had imprisoned Odysseus in her cave to be her lover forever, until Zeus demanded he be released. I loved Calypso because not enough was written about her, but also because she seduced and spit out men at her leisure. Helen of Troy, the great beauty of the time, was one who had men fighting over her. Calypso never saw the need. It was just business. Time to move on. Would she be considered a slut? Hell if I no. Either way, the character is based off of her. Everyone who has seen the video loves it, male and female.
As a woman why should I not give myself the place of power and purposefulness in my work regardless of the medium? When I write songs, why should they have to be begging some man to stay? When I do comedy, why should I whine about wanting a man or how they treat me? When I write, why should I whine about wanting a husband? Why should I whine? Why should I put myself in the place of subservient victim? Why should I not come out from a place of strength and power?
This may turn some off to my work because they do not like me as a person or my so called agenda. That is fine. I might offend some. That is fine. I might not fit into the little mold called woman. That is fine. I might not have my career handed to me like those who follow the rules. Even better, I shatter your boxes and refuse to follow your rules.
I have gotten as far as I have without the help of any man or woman. Perhaps it is some greater power that wants me to succeed. Or maybe not. Either way, if you like me support me. If not, good luck to you and go fuck yourself. I am making my own standards and am changing the world.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
So what I am saying dudes is, sorry, won't be making you a sandwich anytime soon. Won't be joining you and your boys for a poker night. Won't be the decoration on your arm that doesn't talk that you will get to fuck later. Sorry fellas, I have better things to do than be your maid that doubles as your whore.
It amazes me how despite the advances women have made sexism is alive and well. Whether it is the men who seek to redefine rape because of a selfish pro-life agenda, or whether it is the women who back them just to belong to the so called boys club. Or sometimes it is guys saying women take things too personally, such as a remark about sexual assault or music where violence against women is glorified. The members of this boys club say when women get offended, they lose their power. However, when we sit back and let this speech occur, we find ourselves as victims and wonder why and how this happened in the first place. We get upset when Chris Brown hits Rihanna, yet when rappers speak about "smacking a ho" they make millions of dollars a minute.
I was told when I started comedy that being a woman was a strike against me. I never believed it until I saw some television time. The first to say it wasn't fair that I was getting ahead were the so called guys who had been what I now loosely term as friends. According to them, I was sleeping around to advance my career. They said it was wrong I was getting the television time I was. There were women who also took joy in ripping me down. It hurt, but it was pathetic on their part because they wanted to establish themselves as members of the club that badly. Either way, I never realized what a detriment it was to be born a woman until I walked into a club and was bumped my several (male) headliners just because they could. I have never gotten over the sting. While I have not left comedy per se, we have been strange bedfellows for a while. Sure, they can't ban me but in many ways I have been exiled for doing my business the way I do. However, ironically, if I were a man I would be a genius and a folk hero.
The same double standard exists within the ventriloquist community. I remember being badmouthed on several message boards by white, Christian, older, men who claimed I was abusing their art form to further my career. They believed trash printed by those who hated me on a tabloid. Of course one woman came on as sort of an apologist in my court but she was quickly ripped down by the majority. Several of these so called Christians have been vocal about me not being welcome at the ventriloquist events. Granted, I don't think my puppets would be welcome. One is gay. Another is a former drug addict turned Christian who tried to kill her boyfriend and won't repent. Another is a slut. Of course there is the Christian puppet in my collection that was successful in killing her husband. Another is a drunk. The list goes on. Maybe they aren't Godly puppets, but however, they prove a bigger point. The point is that addicts deserve compassion like anyone else, and sluts and gays are a member of our world. Actually slut is a terrible word that seeks to marginalize women. I prefer the word sexually free.
Same in the writing world. Because I do not speak the same victimese many women memoir writers do, I am not welcome on many a women's panel. I do not let the terrible things that have happened in my life define me, that would give the male world the freedom to knock me down. I also find that because I do not wallow in the low self-worth many women writers do, I find I have no support behind them. Fine, I don't write about feelings or the stupidity of emotion. At the same time, I have had many male writers put me in my so called place for the way I published by book. Apparently this makes me less of a writer. Last time I checked Mensa never endorsed their books. Last time I checked they weren't in the collection of any Ivy League Schools. So I suppose this makes me the odd one out at dinner, the guest no one invited on the list that accidentally showed up because she saw the flier for the party.
When I directed my music video for "Stay" I based the character I played not only off the libel written about me, but also off of Calypso the Cave Witch. She was the demi-goddess who had imprisoned Odysseus in her cave to be her lover forever, until Zeus demanded he be released. I loved Calypso because not enough was written about her, but also because she seduced and spit out men at her leisure. Helen of Troy, the great beauty of the time, was one who had men fighting over her. Calypso never saw the need. It was just business. Time to move on. Would she be considered a slut? Hell if I no. Either way, the character is based off of her. Everyone who has seen the video loves it, male and female.
As a woman why should I not give myself the place of power and purposefulness in my work regardless of the medium? When I write songs, why should they have to be begging some man to stay? When I do comedy, why should I whine about wanting a man or how they treat me? When I write, why should I whine about wanting a husband? Why should I whine? Why should I put myself in the place of subservient victim? Why should I not come out from a place of strength and power?
This may turn some off to my work because they do not like me as a person or my so called agenda. That is fine. I might offend some. That is fine. I might not fit into the little mold called woman. That is fine. I might not have my career handed to me like those who follow the rules. Even better, I shatter your boxes and refuse to follow your rules.
I have gotten as far as I have without the help of any man or woman. Perhaps it is some greater power that wants me to succeed. Or maybe not. Either way, if you like me support me. If not, good luck to you and go fuck yourself. I am making my own standards and am changing the world.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 27, 2013
Weiner Whack
Yesterday I was part of the festivities when DOMA was lifted. Celebrating that our world was changing for the better, I was doing some political activism. Yesterday, I was canvassing for Yetta Kurland. Unlike many of her opponents, Yetta is a true Progressive on the Democratic ticket. She cares not only about the LGBTQ Community but also women. She fights for women's rights whether it comes to our right to choose or equal pay for equal work regardless of gender. Not to mention Yetta campaigns for animal rights and I loooovvvveee the people working on her campaign. And she is a friend of my friend Carlos Valentin who by the way is a fabulous director. So yes, I am on Team Yetta.Oh and she accepted my friend request on facebook and tweeted back at me. Team Yetta it is!
TEAM YETTA!!!!!!!
Anyway, I was minding my own business canvassing. I got hugs from strangers and people were being really nice to each other. Even when people didn't want to sign the petition they were nice. It's because they had signed fifty others or they were too busy on their way to make out now that they could get married. That is when I saw some action.
They was some chatter. I look over and there he is, Anthony Weiner. Yes, he was the politician who showed his pee pee to that girl. He was disgraced. He had to resign. His wife was four months pregnant. It was all bad. And then he was replaced by a Republican (YUCK!) But nonetheless he was still a good candidate and a good politician. Before the arrival of Mr. Weiner, no pun intended, I had been talking to his canvassers and they said that they got to meet him and he was mucho coolio. So as he was running around I decided to snap a pic with him.
Anthony Weiner and I on the historic day DOMA was lifted
I figure yes his last name is ironic. Yes he is a Democrat reminiscent of Bill Clinton in some ways. On the other hand he cares about working people, the middle class, families, LGBTQ People, and women. Especially women, but that is in a different way-couldn't resist, sorry. On the other hand his heart is in a good place. Now hopefully he keeps it in his pants cause voters are stoopid. Sigh McSigh Sigh
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
TEAM YETTA!!!!!!!Anyway, I was minding my own business canvassing. I got hugs from strangers and people were being really nice to each other. Even when people didn't want to sign the petition they were nice. It's because they had signed fifty others or they were too busy on their way to make out now that they could get married. That is when I saw some action.
They was some chatter. I look over and there he is, Anthony Weiner. Yes, he was the politician who showed his pee pee to that girl. He was disgraced. He had to resign. His wife was four months pregnant. It was all bad. And then he was replaced by a Republican (YUCK!) But nonetheless he was still a good candidate and a good politician. Before the arrival of Mr. Weiner, no pun intended, I had been talking to his canvassers and they said that they got to meet him and he was mucho coolio. So as he was running around I decided to snap a pic with him.
Anthony Weiner and I on the historic day DOMA was liftedI figure yes his last name is ironic. Yes he is a Democrat reminiscent of Bill Clinton in some ways. On the other hand he cares about working people, the middle class, families, LGBTQ People, and women. Especially women, but that is in a different way-couldn't resist, sorry. On the other hand his heart is in a good place. Now hopefully he keeps it in his pants cause voters are stoopid. Sigh McSigh Sigh
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 26, 2013
A Blessed Day
Today the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) has been lifted. This is a blessed day because marriage is no longer federally characterized by the hederonormative man and woman. Now it can be man and man, woman and woman, as well as man and woman. We can all shop with the kiddies at Cotsco. We can all register at Bloomingdales. We can all be a part of.
The camp who says LGBT people shouldn't marry had more holes in their logic than a piece of Swiss Cheese. A gay marriage will not alter the definition of your straight marriage, now everyone will be married and get equal benefits under the law. No straight couple is any less married because gays get married. Also, then there is the how will I explain this to my kiddies? Answer, men can marry men, and women can marry women. As for the homosexual couples influencing children and flaunting their identities, straight couples hold hands and have bombarded Disney for years. And then the churches yelling and screaming that they will have to hold gay weddings. Well don't worry, the gays don't want to get married in your backward assed churches. They want to get married in churches that welcome and tolerate them and all people. Not to mention gay couples have adopted and raised children in monogamous relationships for years. And they pay taxes. Give them equal protection under the law.
Today love has won out and hate has been defeated. Love erodes at the patriarchy, the white hederosexual male normative that has oppressed many for years. Today that is gone and what replaces it is the principal of tolerance. Martin Luther King, JR spoke of judging a man not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character in his time. Now in my time, his daughter, before she passed away, campaigned for gay rights because she believed all people regardless of their orientation deserved rights in the spirit of her late father.
Now lastly, to all couples regardless of your orientation this is what I will say. Respect yourself and each other. Be who you are as honestly and openly and as healthily as you can, while you join forces. Understand each other's differences and make them bring you closer together as people rather than letting them tear you apart. And the things you have in common, let them bring you closer together. Use disagreements as an excuse to learn more about each other as well as yourselves. Have each other's back against the world. In any discord remember love conquers all. Now much happiness on your continued journey together.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
The camp who says LGBT people shouldn't marry had more holes in their logic than a piece of Swiss Cheese. A gay marriage will not alter the definition of your straight marriage, now everyone will be married and get equal benefits under the law. No straight couple is any less married because gays get married. Also, then there is the how will I explain this to my kiddies? Answer, men can marry men, and women can marry women. As for the homosexual couples influencing children and flaunting their identities, straight couples hold hands and have bombarded Disney for years. And then the churches yelling and screaming that they will have to hold gay weddings. Well don't worry, the gays don't want to get married in your backward assed churches. They want to get married in churches that welcome and tolerate them and all people. Not to mention gay couples have adopted and raised children in monogamous relationships for years. And they pay taxes. Give them equal protection under the law.
Today love has won out and hate has been defeated. Love erodes at the patriarchy, the white hederosexual male normative that has oppressed many for years. Today that is gone and what replaces it is the principal of tolerance. Martin Luther King, JR spoke of judging a man not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character in his time. Now in my time, his daughter, before she passed away, campaigned for gay rights because she believed all people regardless of their orientation deserved rights in the spirit of her late father.
Now lastly, to all couples regardless of your orientation this is what I will say. Respect yourself and each other. Be who you are as honestly and openly and as healthily as you can, while you join forces. Understand each other's differences and make them bring you closer together as people rather than letting them tear you apart. And the things you have in common, let them bring you closer together. Use disagreements as an excuse to learn more about each other as well as yourselves. Have each other's back against the world. In any discord remember love conquers all. Now much happiness on your continued journey together.
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 24, 2013
Air Conditioning
I finally have gotten off my ass and installed my air conditioning. After a whole weekend of procrastinating on every task ever, I decided it was time. I am hardly lazy, but the bug does bite me occasionally. I think it is because I work as hard as I do in this man's world without the evidence of tangible reward from time to time. I feel I am a slave to my gender from time to time as I get ahead and no one helps me. Guys want to see me as a sex object. Women want to be catty and jealous. I get tired of the rat race sometimes. There are occasions when I want to be homeless. Maybe live under a bridge where no one can find me.
As I was having this paranoid flash of memory I remembered all my summers on my own in NYC. I didn't have air conditioning for my first few years. It was hell. I managed though because that is what you must do, soldier on. I kept my underwear in the freezer which made some interesting finds for my roommates. I also would date dudes who had air conditioning. Truth, I really didn't like them. However, I liked their air conditioning. My friend Joe D cooked for me and we would watch gay movies. It was an excuse to sleep over cause he had air conditioning. And then Derek and Fernando had air conditioning, too. So yes, air conditioning all the way!
Being air conditionless hold a special place in my heart. In the summer of 2010 I wrote my book in the sweltering heat. I knew I had to. I sweated like a pig and drank plenty of water. Sometimes I even decided to write naked if I was home alone. From time to time the heat was so intense my computer would crash, and the keyboard was hot to the touch. But I cranked out the first draft of I Came, I Saw, I Sang.
Finally in 2011 I was living on my own for the first time ever. I decided in the spirit of the fact that things were beginning to happen with my career, my puppet children and I only deserved the best. So I decided to spring for air conditioning. I went to the store, ordered it, and a little Mexican dude named Paco delivered it to my house. He was nice and I tipped him five dollars. Afterwards, I was clueless as how to install it. I decided to keep it on my floor and was surprised when it created a flood on my floor. My guy friends offered to help me install it but I was like nah, I got this. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the help. As a woman on her own, I have learned how to do things without the help of men. So I installed this all by myself. I felt liberated, independent, and like I was entering a new era of self. It was a breath of cool air against the heat and pressure called my life. Not only did I have air conditioning, but I didn't need the help of a man to install it.
This elevated me to a whole new plateau. I was more self-sufficient. My early twenties had been spent chasing men who didn't want to chase me back. It had been spent chasing dreams that were finally starting to come true after sacrifice and watching my friends in the suburbs marry and pop out babies at an astounding rate. I wasn't some desperate waif who needed to be loved and was lucky if people gave her a break. Fuck that. I was a strong, independent woman and I had puppets.
Oh and then I had a back ache from installing the air conditioner on my own and had to lay down for two days.
So yes, now I have air conditioning. I was slow to install it this year because Mother Nature had been cray cray. It was so cold at the beginning of June I thought it was going to snow. But after procrastinating this weekend I figured perhaps the cool air would invigorate me. After all, I write for the Huffington Post. I am part of NYU and Brown Bookstore. Britney Spears and Mensa plugged my book. My new May is purrrffffeeeccct. I only deserve the best. And damn it, that means air conditioning!
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
As I was having this paranoid flash of memory I remembered all my summers on my own in NYC. I didn't have air conditioning for my first few years. It was hell. I managed though because that is what you must do, soldier on. I kept my underwear in the freezer which made some interesting finds for my roommates. I also would date dudes who had air conditioning. Truth, I really didn't like them. However, I liked their air conditioning. My friend Joe D cooked for me and we would watch gay movies. It was an excuse to sleep over cause he had air conditioning. And then Derek and Fernando had air conditioning, too. So yes, air conditioning all the way!
Being air conditionless hold a special place in my heart. In the summer of 2010 I wrote my book in the sweltering heat. I knew I had to. I sweated like a pig and drank plenty of water. Sometimes I even decided to write naked if I was home alone. From time to time the heat was so intense my computer would crash, and the keyboard was hot to the touch. But I cranked out the first draft of I Came, I Saw, I Sang.
Finally in 2011 I was living on my own for the first time ever. I decided in the spirit of the fact that things were beginning to happen with my career, my puppet children and I only deserved the best. So I decided to spring for air conditioning. I went to the store, ordered it, and a little Mexican dude named Paco delivered it to my house. He was nice and I tipped him five dollars. Afterwards, I was clueless as how to install it. I decided to keep it on my floor and was surprised when it created a flood on my floor. My guy friends offered to help me install it but I was like nah, I got this. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the help. As a woman on her own, I have learned how to do things without the help of men. So I installed this all by myself. I felt liberated, independent, and like I was entering a new era of self. It was a breath of cool air against the heat and pressure called my life. Not only did I have air conditioning, but I didn't need the help of a man to install it.
This elevated me to a whole new plateau. I was more self-sufficient. My early twenties had been spent chasing men who didn't want to chase me back. It had been spent chasing dreams that were finally starting to come true after sacrifice and watching my friends in the suburbs marry and pop out babies at an astounding rate. I wasn't some desperate waif who needed to be loved and was lucky if people gave her a break. Fuck that. I was a strong, independent woman and I had puppets.
Oh and then I had a back ache from installing the air conditioner on my own and had to lay down for two days.
So yes, now I have air conditioning. I was slow to install it this year because Mother Nature had been cray cray. It was so cold at the beginning of June I thought it was going to snow. But after procrastinating this weekend I figured perhaps the cool air would invigorate me. After all, I write for the Huffington Post. I am part of NYU and Brown Bookstore. Britney Spears and Mensa plugged my book. My new May is purrrffffeeeccct. I only deserve the best. And damn it, that means air conditioning!
xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
June 23, 2013
All Apologies (Nirvana)
A few days ago I wrote a blog post about how I not only had been in an abusive relationship, but also survived and turned my life around. I didn’t do this to speak the victimese many writers and women’s activists do, but rather to make myself visible to a young woman, any young woman, who needed to hear that it was possible to have a life after dating violence. That they didn’t deserve to be belittled by anyone, man or woman (domestic violence happens in lesbian relationships as well). My reason for telling my story was to let people know that they were responsible for how they let others treat them. That also, we pick our partners, etc.
In my journey as an activist, I have gotten lots of responses in my sharing about my past as a dating violence survivor. The comedy has gotten laughs, which is the goal. But also, it has made me visible. It has gotten other young women to speak to me about their experiences. Of course there have been the gamut of male bookers who have accused me of being bitter. I laugh and give a shout out to the good dudes. How does that make me bitter? Of course there are those insistent that because I speak out on behalf of women I am either a man hater or a lesbian, or a lesbian man hater. Contrary to what those Neanderthals believe, most lesbians don’t hate men. It’s those of us forced to date them that despise them most. Finally there are those dudes who say, “Get over it.” Translated, I struck a nerve. Believe it or not that is the goal of every activist. So when I hear, “Get over it,” I know someone was made to look at his own behavior and didn’t like it. Note, never in any of my exchanges do I say I hate men. This is just a classic example of uninformed idiots putting words in the mouth of a woman with opinions.
The disturbing response I got this week was from some rando who felt the need to hijack my fan page. He told me I made some “accusations” against my ex, and technically if I could not back this up he could sue me for libel. And that I better play it safe and take the blog down and never again blog about my experience. Wait a minute…Why do I have to stand accused? Why do I have to prove my ex did these terrible things to me? Why are they even being called accusations? Oh and here is the best part, I didn’t use his name. So there is no law suit. I am a lawyer’s kid, I know about the law. This moron, on the other hand, was just a man who wanted to hear himself talk.
This feedback in particular upset me because I have no reason to lie about surviving dating violence. I have no pathological reason to make up a story about being stalked unless I am just that desperate to get back at him which I am not. I am also not that desperate for attention. A stalker is not a fiend of convience let me tell you. If anything, they threaten your safety to the point you have to change your routine. An abusive ex is not something you make up either. Instead, when you are with them you make up excuses about why you continue to stay and feed into the codependent cycle you have created together. Yes, a shit relationship is not an I project but a we project.
That is not what made me most pissed. What a comment like this does as it not just puts me in a place that I have to be an apologist but it does this to all victims. It puts us in a place where we are standing with our backs against the wall and the proverbial gun to our heads. It puts us in a place of blame. Then when we dare speak out it makes us as if we are the architects of our misery. Of course it is basically telling us that we are bitter. Bitter is the wrong word. We are honest. It tells us we are at fault. Yes, we picked our partners. Yes, we chose to stay whether it was eight months or eight years. But eventually we chose to leave.
What was most outrageous, aside from the fact this obvious chauvinist put me in a place where I had to defend myself, was he suggested I take the blog down as not to cause anymore trouble. I endured a year of hell and two more years of a stalker who terrorized me, stalked me by-proxy, and harassed the men I dated. I invested in a separate mailing address just to keep myself safe. My mother had his name on the refrigerator in case I disappeared. Even during the stalking I was nothing but a lady. I didn’t respond to the behavior. While I didn’t feed into him, it killed me inside. Despite the fact he was a master manipulator, I did love the man at one point. So yes I have been to hell thank you very much!
I thought about ripping into that moron for his feedback about my “accusations,” as if I were making them up. For putting me on trial, as if I would be breaking my ass doing all the activism I do because apparently I just have mental problems, the ability to lie, and too much time on my hands. Of course then there is my activism, I only do that because I have nothing else to do as well and just want something to whine about. So I guess what I have really wasted page space saying was, “Go to hell, asshole.”
I thought about how to rip up this idiot with nothing to say. But instead I blocked him. So I will say this. I will speak out when it comes to violence against women. On the matter of dating violence, I will continue to tell people about the psychological and physical dangers. In addition, I will also continue to speak out on behalf of stalking victims and the enforcement of stalking laws. As well, I will continue to champion victim’s rights because they have none. I will also continue to be open, honest, and willing to be visible. Yes, if you haven’t figured it out I will continue….
I am sorry if my identity causes some people discomfort. I am sorry if some men don’t like the fact I came through hell at the hands of one of their own and am doing amazingly well as a feminist and independent woman. I am sorry if some women who have been married to the only man I ever dated forever think I just need to lighten up. I am sorry my presence is such an abhoration to some people. I am sorry that I have been successful despite the fact so many people wrote me off because some guy was busy beating my head in. I am sorry….
But on that note if this is the way you feel please do not watch me on TV, I am afraid I will turn to stone. Please don’t buy my books, I don’t need your money laced with prejudice and sexism. While you are at it, please don’t support me in any way. Really, many more who want to support me will. Many more who need to see me and hear me will. I don’t need you, so please don’t….
I said my peace. Some will agree. Some will disagree. At the end of the day not much has changed since Amelia Earhardt. How incredibly sad…. xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center
