April E. Brucker's Blog, page 61
February 12, 2013
Dreaming is Free (Blondie)
When I was thirteen I was at the end of my rope. School was hellacious. I got made fun of all the time. Between a weight problem and an acne problem I was a mess. At the time I was on this face medication that made my lips bleed. I tried wearing make up to sexy myself up. My blush was orange and my lipstick was more or less purple. I looked like a pumpkin. On top of that I wore this water proof mascara because at the time I was embarking on a failed career as a diver. Well I was not only a horrendous diver, move over Shamu, but I was allergic to water proof mascara. So my eyes swelled shut. Did I mention my mother picked my clothes? On top of that I had top and bottom braces with rubber bands, or gum bands as we call them in Pittsburgh.
I had bullseye all over my forehead.
School was a nightmare and I didn't want to go. I wasn't skinny and pretty like the popular girls. The guys didn't want me. If they asked me out it was as a joke.
Then my family got cable television. To make a long story short I was from a family of readers and educators. My dad was the first of seven, the first to get a college degree and the first to not only get an MBA but also to go to law school as well. His father had been a steel worker who had not graduated from high school, but when my dad was older went to school at night to obtain his GED in order to get a promotion. It was an odd father/son bonding moment but they did it. My dad was big on education because he had grown up poor and realized life without it sucked and made you a slave. My mom was a teacher and told us to aim high, as in Ivy League. So the week was reserved for reading and homework, and the weekends television. We didn't have cable because we were not big television waters. But when Friday came, it was television time.
My friends all had cable and were on the up and up with the MTV. My brother, sister and I, in the damn darkness. On a bus once we were talking and the subject of Coolio came up. I didn't know who or what a Coolio was and needless to say that ended in a barrage of terrible jokes.
But my brother Wendell was embarking on a football career and my dad wanted to watch the high school games. This required getting local cable. To get the local channel this involved getting thirty others. Finally we had cable. I had arrived. Yeehaw!
Immediately I became addicted to MTV. The pop culture on the screen, the musicians and the actors, opened my mind up. I wasnt as academic as my siblings Skipper and Wendell. I was more creative. These artists spoke to me. They were creative, thought out of the box, and were changing the world. When they spoke about school they all talked about how they were awkward and made fun of. This seemed to be a theme. I was creative, awkward, and made fun of. Suddenly I had a plan and a goal. I wanted to go to New York, to entertain people, and to change the world. While it sounds cheesy, MTV saved my life and my sanity during those terrible, crucial years.
As a part of this package we also got AMC. On the screen I saw Mae West, my idol and my hero. She had come into vogue during the flapper era, a decade of tall and willowy women. She was short and curvy. Mae West broke the mold by writing pieces for herself. She pushed the boundaries, going so far as to go to jail. She was an inspiration to an adolescent struggling with her weight in a place where different meant deadly. I suddenly didn't feel this stifling need to conform. Instead, I felt like different didn't make me wrong, but rather it made me right and special. I didn't have to be like the pretty popular girls. They weren't better than me, I was better than them.
From there I had a mission. I practiced in front of my mirror to death with my Groucho Marx figure. My parents worried about my loner ways, meanwhile I dreamed of a career as the next Edgar Bergen. I brought home ribbons in forensics as a master storyteller. I wrote stories and eventually got published in a local paper. I took acting classes and volunteered as well as produced a show on public access. I was on my way. So much so I just started a bunch of sentences with the pronound "I".
I went on to move to New York City, and was even featured on F'in MTV Blocks. In addition, my puppet children and I have been on TV and we are beginning to fulfill our mission of reaching people. The producer for my audio book was exchanging emails with Naughty By Nature, a band I wasnt allowed to watch when they came on the TV. Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer stole my book. I had a convo with Deborah Harry. I live down the street from Broadway. I am writing a damn musical. People have recognized my puppet children and I and often ask for photos. A song I recorded was number one on internet radio for five weeks. Essentially I am doing every thing I set out to do. This is just the beginning.
I have been thinking about all the people who have made my life hellacious lately. It is because I receive a large number of fan letters from young people. Many are bullied. Bullying is an epidemic in this country and people are only beginning to understand the long standing psychological trauma associated with it now. One kid was even beaten into a coma by kids on a school yard. One recently sent me a letter that she was at the end of her rope and she needed hope.
So I posted something to this effect on facebook and this is what I would say to anyone. Growing up I wasn't allowed to watch cable television and everyone laughed at me. Now I am on cable television quite a bit as well as Netflix with my puppet babies, and hell I still don't own a TV. Because I wasn't allowed to watch television, I got good with making dolls talk and I developed an ability to write. Both are making me quite famous and quite successful. Kids made fun of me because I accidentally called the Notorious B.I.G. The Notorious Big. A year ago I hung out with one of this closest friends. I thought Snoop Dogg was a brand of kennel food and not only did he give me a pep talk when we met but he took my card. I thought a Fugee was a cold virus and Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer stole my book and is reading it. I watched a Deborah Harry rerun and I spoke to her in the hall. I not only walk passed MTV every day, but I have been on there. I walk passed Broadway every day, and I will be on there. I walk passed the Today Show every day with the people gathering at the front and smile because I know I have been on that show too. As for the mean girls they all got fat. As for the guys who asked me out as a joke, joke is on them. Maybe they laughed at me, but now they wish they had my life. I am getting the last laugh. So hang in there. It does get better.
Someone wrote me a sweet note back about how I shouldn't let people drag me down from my past and that there was no need to prove myself. And people over the years have also told me that junior high sucks for everyone.
But I would tell any kid in that place to just hang in there. Every dog has their day and their day will come. It does get better as I said. Now I only wish I could time travel and tell my thirteen year old self that. I wish I could show her my life now and give her a hug. Maybe that is why bullies make me sick and when I see that side of a guy he becomes so unattractive. Maybe that is why I stand by my friends, even when they do things like get arrested, because I know what it's like to be kicked by the world. Maybe that's why I don't exclude anyone. I know my thirteen year old self wouldn't believe it. She would tell me about her dreams, and I would tell her they would come true but she would have to work very hard.
Then she would ask me if I had any money. I would tell her, "Working on that."
Sigh, my bank account doesn't know I hang out with famous people. My bank account doesn't know who I hang out with. My bank account says I still need to save up for a TV and a bed.
But living the dream. And with the price of the suffering we go through, at least dreaming is free.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback, 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook Kindle and Nook
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
I had bullseye all over my forehead.
School was a nightmare and I didn't want to go. I wasn't skinny and pretty like the popular girls. The guys didn't want me. If they asked me out it was as a joke.
Then my family got cable television. To make a long story short I was from a family of readers and educators. My dad was the first of seven, the first to get a college degree and the first to not only get an MBA but also to go to law school as well. His father had been a steel worker who had not graduated from high school, but when my dad was older went to school at night to obtain his GED in order to get a promotion. It was an odd father/son bonding moment but they did it. My dad was big on education because he had grown up poor and realized life without it sucked and made you a slave. My mom was a teacher and told us to aim high, as in Ivy League. So the week was reserved for reading and homework, and the weekends television. We didn't have cable because we were not big television waters. But when Friday came, it was television time.
My friends all had cable and were on the up and up with the MTV. My brother, sister and I, in the damn darkness. On a bus once we were talking and the subject of Coolio came up. I didn't know who or what a Coolio was and needless to say that ended in a barrage of terrible jokes.
But my brother Wendell was embarking on a football career and my dad wanted to watch the high school games. This required getting local cable. To get the local channel this involved getting thirty others. Finally we had cable. I had arrived. Yeehaw!
Immediately I became addicted to MTV. The pop culture on the screen, the musicians and the actors, opened my mind up. I wasnt as academic as my siblings Skipper and Wendell. I was more creative. These artists spoke to me. They were creative, thought out of the box, and were changing the world. When they spoke about school they all talked about how they were awkward and made fun of. This seemed to be a theme. I was creative, awkward, and made fun of. Suddenly I had a plan and a goal. I wanted to go to New York, to entertain people, and to change the world. While it sounds cheesy, MTV saved my life and my sanity during those terrible, crucial years.
As a part of this package we also got AMC. On the screen I saw Mae West, my idol and my hero. She had come into vogue during the flapper era, a decade of tall and willowy women. She was short and curvy. Mae West broke the mold by writing pieces for herself. She pushed the boundaries, going so far as to go to jail. She was an inspiration to an adolescent struggling with her weight in a place where different meant deadly. I suddenly didn't feel this stifling need to conform. Instead, I felt like different didn't make me wrong, but rather it made me right and special. I didn't have to be like the pretty popular girls. They weren't better than me, I was better than them.
From there I had a mission. I practiced in front of my mirror to death with my Groucho Marx figure. My parents worried about my loner ways, meanwhile I dreamed of a career as the next Edgar Bergen. I brought home ribbons in forensics as a master storyteller. I wrote stories and eventually got published in a local paper. I took acting classes and volunteered as well as produced a show on public access. I was on my way. So much so I just started a bunch of sentences with the pronound "I".
I went on to move to New York City, and was even featured on F'in MTV Blocks. In addition, my puppet children and I have been on TV and we are beginning to fulfill our mission of reaching people. The producer for my audio book was exchanging emails with Naughty By Nature, a band I wasnt allowed to watch when they came on the TV. Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer stole my book. I had a convo with Deborah Harry. I live down the street from Broadway. I am writing a damn musical. People have recognized my puppet children and I and often ask for photos. A song I recorded was number one on internet radio for five weeks. Essentially I am doing every thing I set out to do. This is just the beginning.
I have been thinking about all the people who have made my life hellacious lately. It is because I receive a large number of fan letters from young people. Many are bullied. Bullying is an epidemic in this country and people are only beginning to understand the long standing psychological trauma associated with it now. One kid was even beaten into a coma by kids on a school yard. One recently sent me a letter that she was at the end of her rope and she needed hope.
So I posted something to this effect on facebook and this is what I would say to anyone. Growing up I wasn't allowed to watch cable television and everyone laughed at me. Now I am on cable television quite a bit as well as Netflix with my puppet babies, and hell I still don't own a TV. Because I wasn't allowed to watch television, I got good with making dolls talk and I developed an ability to write. Both are making me quite famous and quite successful. Kids made fun of me because I accidentally called the Notorious B.I.G. The Notorious Big. A year ago I hung out with one of this closest friends. I thought Snoop Dogg was a brand of kennel food and not only did he give me a pep talk when we met but he took my card. I thought a Fugee was a cold virus and Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer stole my book and is reading it. I watched a Deborah Harry rerun and I spoke to her in the hall. I not only walk passed MTV every day, but I have been on there. I walk passed Broadway every day, and I will be on there. I walk passed the Today Show every day with the people gathering at the front and smile because I know I have been on that show too. As for the mean girls they all got fat. As for the guys who asked me out as a joke, joke is on them. Maybe they laughed at me, but now they wish they had my life. I am getting the last laugh. So hang in there. It does get better.
Someone wrote me a sweet note back about how I shouldn't let people drag me down from my past and that there was no need to prove myself. And people over the years have also told me that junior high sucks for everyone.
But I would tell any kid in that place to just hang in there. Every dog has their day and their day will come. It does get better as I said. Now I only wish I could time travel and tell my thirteen year old self that. I wish I could show her my life now and give her a hug. Maybe that is why bullies make me sick and when I see that side of a guy he becomes so unattractive. Maybe that is why I stand by my friends, even when they do things like get arrested, because I know what it's like to be kicked by the world. Maybe that's why I don't exclude anyone. I know my thirteen year old self wouldn't believe it. She would tell me about her dreams, and I would tell her they would come true but she would have to work very hard.
Then she would ask me if I had any money. I would tell her, "Working on that."
Sigh, my bank account doesn't know I hang out with famous people. My bank account doesn't know who I hang out with. My bank account says I still need to save up for a TV and a bed.
But living the dream. And with the price of the suffering we go through, at least dreaming is free.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback, 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook Kindle and Nook
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
February 11, 2013
Rhapsody (Blondie)
Yesterday was an adventure. After discovering Lauryn Hill's sound engineer had stolen my book and was reading it, I would step into the hall and have another encounter. This one with a complete legend. I had heard Deborah Harry was working on our floor and had rented out the studio next door. Archie told me about it and I was like, okay. He made me promise not to post it on facebook. So much for that right now. Anyway, I understood she was working and blah blah blah and so was I. While in my dreams I could be as cool as Blondie was back in the day I would never even try.
After a recording session that started late cause these things just do sometimes I stepped into the hall to run to the restroom. When you do a VO job a water bottle is your best friend and sometimes you just have to piss like a race horse. As I made my way to the wash room I saw these two tiny dogs run by my feet. They were sweet. I spoke to the dogs a little not cause I am crazy but screw it, people speak to dogs.
Just then I looked up and standing in front of me was Deborah Harry. She was making herself tea in the studio microwave and this is how the exchange went:
Deborah: Hi.
Me: Hi. Are those your dogs?
Deborah: Yes, they are cute, aren't they?
Me: Darling. Makes me want a dog. How old are they?
Deborah: One is six and the other is a rescue so I don't know.
Me: Well if I had a dog again it would be a Shepherd.
Deborah: Did you have a Shepherd growing up?
Me: Yes, it was my parents first dog. They got it before I was born because my mom caught two guys breaking into their house and my dad wasn't home. He got it for her so she would feel better.
Deborah: Good call.
Me: Yeah, it was their first kid.
Deborah: Dogs are like kids by the way.
We both laugh
Me: I'm April by the way.
Deborah: Debbie.
Me: As in Debbie Harry, the Debbie.
Deborah lets out a knowing smile and laugh
Me: I am such a fan. Not to sound like a dork but I love your music. Loved your remake of Rhapsody you did in 1998. So what are you doing here?
Deborah: Recording a new album. All new stuff. It will be available on the internet in a few months.What are you doing here?
Me: Recording an audio book.
Deborah: What is it called? What is it about?
Me: It is called I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl. It's about my time as a singing telegram delivery girl in the city.
Deborah: That's cool.
Me: Yeah, laying tracks for it to be down on tape. Here, let me fetch you a card.
I run and fetch Deborah a card. She is still chilling in the hallway with her dogs.
I run out and hand Deborah the card
Deborah: Thank you. I look forward to reading it or hearing it.
Me: Thank you. I only wish to be as cool as you.
Deborah: A huh. But let me tell you, that is up for debate.
We both laugh and say goodbye.
I run into the studio
I see Archie
Me: I JUST MET DEBORAH HARRY AND GAVE HER THE CARD FOR MY BOOK! SHE IS SO COOL!
Archie shrugs
Archie: I just hope you didnt say, 'Bitch, I hope you werent the one who stole my book!"
We all laugh
End scene
In closing, once a substitute teacher remarked about how I looked like Deborah Harry. A mean girl then retorted that Deborah Harry was pretty unlike me. This was followed by, "And April doesnt matter."
Met Deborah Harry and she disagrees. But we both concur that you don't matter, bitch.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com for paperback
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
After a recording session that started late cause these things just do sometimes I stepped into the hall to run to the restroom. When you do a VO job a water bottle is your best friend and sometimes you just have to piss like a race horse. As I made my way to the wash room I saw these two tiny dogs run by my feet. They were sweet. I spoke to the dogs a little not cause I am crazy but screw it, people speak to dogs.
Just then I looked up and standing in front of me was Deborah Harry. She was making herself tea in the studio microwave and this is how the exchange went:
Deborah: Hi.
Me: Hi. Are those your dogs?
Deborah: Yes, they are cute, aren't they?
Me: Darling. Makes me want a dog. How old are they?
Deborah: One is six and the other is a rescue so I don't know.
Me: Well if I had a dog again it would be a Shepherd.
Deborah: Did you have a Shepherd growing up?
Me: Yes, it was my parents first dog. They got it before I was born because my mom caught two guys breaking into their house and my dad wasn't home. He got it for her so she would feel better.
Deborah: Good call.
Me: Yeah, it was their first kid.
Deborah: Dogs are like kids by the way.
We both laugh
Me: I'm April by the way.
Deborah: Debbie.
Me: As in Debbie Harry, the Debbie.
Deborah lets out a knowing smile and laugh
Me: I am such a fan. Not to sound like a dork but I love your music. Loved your remake of Rhapsody you did in 1998. So what are you doing here?
Deborah: Recording a new album. All new stuff. It will be available on the internet in a few months.What are you doing here?
Me: Recording an audio book.
Deborah: What is it called? What is it about?
Me: It is called I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl. It's about my time as a singing telegram delivery girl in the city.
Deborah: That's cool.
Me: Yeah, laying tracks for it to be down on tape. Here, let me fetch you a card.
I run and fetch Deborah a card. She is still chilling in the hallway with her dogs.
I run out and hand Deborah the card
Deborah: Thank you. I look forward to reading it or hearing it.
Me: Thank you. I only wish to be as cool as you.
Deborah: A huh. But let me tell you, that is up for debate.
We both laugh and say goodbye.
I run into the studio
I see Archie
Me: I JUST MET DEBORAH HARRY AND GAVE HER THE CARD FOR MY BOOK! SHE IS SO COOL!
Archie shrugs
Archie: I just hope you didnt say, 'Bitch, I hope you werent the one who stole my book!"
We all laugh
End scene
In closing, once a substitute teacher remarked about how I looked like Deborah Harry. A mean girl then retorted that Deborah Harry was pretty unlike me. This was followed by, "And April doesnt matter."
Met Deborah Harry and she disagrees. But we both concur that you don't matter, bitch.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com for paperback
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
February 10, 2013
That Thing (Lauryn Hill)
As you all know I am recording my audiobook. I am there every Sunday with my buddy Archie Ekong who is my sound engineer. Anyway, a little about Archie. Archie is the protoge of Lauryn Hill's sound engineer.
A little background on my connex with Lauryn Hill. In middle school my family finally got cable and with that package came MTV. One of the first videos I saw was "That Thing." I immediately fell in love with Lauryn Hill and made my mother buy me the Rolling Stone she was interviewed in. This marked a new era for me. I would be in the loop. A week before I hadn't known who Leonardo DiCaprio was and as a result got made fun of by the mean girl clique. In that week I also had not known who the Fugees were. When I asked what a Fugee was I got laughed out of the room. To me a Fugee sounded like a new clothing line. Oh and Coolio, well I just thought that was an expression.
Well when I saw Lauryn Hill's video I knew who she was. I fell in love. The woman was brilliant and her song telling. School was hell, but this woman seemed different. She came at it hard, something women in music are still scare to do. As the hell known as seventh grade sailed on, I told myself I would get back at those bitches who made fun of me someday.
Fast forward to years later. I was in my recording studio when I asked Archie where my book went. I leave one there to make work easier. Archie mentioned it was missing. I was like, someone stole my book?!?! We laughed about it. Archie mentioned Hernan was a huge reader and probably took it. Hernan, the Hernan. Then it hit me, LAURYN HILL'S SOUND ENGINEER STOLE MY BOOK!!!!!!!
I thought back to seventh grade and to all those mean girls. Here I was living in the big old city and maybe I didn't know what a Fugee was. But Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer was reading my book. All the memories of being teased mercilessly flashed through my mind. Now I, April Brucker, chunky thirteen obsessed with puppets, had grown up and was in a New York City recording studio. Not to mention the man who was responsible for one of the greatest albums in the nineties was reading my book.
My response, "I hope he enjoys it. I am glad people still read."
I then remembered seventh grade, being so chunky and awkward. Those mean girls and all their nasty words. I was chunky, I had acne, rub it in. In a lot of ways I am glad they did. Because my parents didn't let me watch television I became a reader and went on to write a book. I also developed an ability to make dolls talk. They teased me for this. Well let me tell you, my ability to make dolls talk is making me very famous. Ironically, I grew up for the most part without cable and in the dark and now my talking dolls have been on national television-cable if you will-many, many, times.
And my writing, which also made me the bullseye on the middle school dart board, is leading me to meet many a famous person. When I met him this summer Snoop Dogg took a post card for my book. And now Lauryn Hill's sound engineer is reading it. Tonight is the Grammy's. Lauryn Hill won one of those I do believe. Maybe this is crazy, maybe this is insane, but maybe it is a sign.
Either way, if I could go back in time to tell my thirteen year old self, anything, it would be to hang in there. That while it hurts that I carry a little more weight and have face acne and it only makes me a bigger target when they call me weird, weird will be the thing that sets me apart. Weird will be the thing that makes people love me. And weird will take me to places and let me do things that those mean girls will only get to watch on TV. Peoples let me tell you this is just the beginning.
Today I also met Deborah Harry, someone who I also worshipped growing up.
I will tell that story in Part Two of my blog tomorrow.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
A little background on my connex with Lauryn Hill. In middle school my family finally got cable and with that package came MTV. One of the first videos I saw was "That Thing." I immediately fell in love with Lauryn Hill and made my mother buy me the Rolling Stone she was interviewed in. This marked a new era for me. I would be in the loop. A week before I hadn't known who Leonardo DiCaprio was and as a result got made fun of by the mean girl clique. In that week I also had not known who the Fugees were. When I asked what a Fugee was I got laughed out of the room. To me a Fugee sounded like a new clothing line. Oh and Coolio, well I just thought that was an expression.
Well when I saw Lauryn Hill's video I knew who she was. I fell in love. The woman was brilliant and her song telling. School was hell, but this woman seemed different. She came at it hard, something women in music are still scare to do. As the hell known as seventh grade sailed on, I told myself I would get back at those bitches who made fun of me someday.
Fast forward to years later. I was in my recording studio when I asked Archie where my book went. I leave one there to make work easier. Archie mentioned it was missing. I was like, someone stole my book?!?! We laughed about it. Archie mentioned Hernan was a huge reader and probably took it. Hernan, the Hernan. Then it hit me, LAURYN HILL'S SOUND ENGINEER STOLE MY BOOK!!!!!!!
I thought back to seventh grade and to all those mean girls. Here I was living in the big old city and maybe I didn't know what a Fugee was. But Lauryn Hill's former sound engineer was reading my book. All the memories of being teased mercilessly flashed through my mind. Now I, April Brucker, chunky thirteen obsessed with puppets, had grown up and was in a New York City recording studio. Not to mention the man who was responsible for one of the greatest albums in the nineties was reading my book.
My response, "I hope he enjoys it. I am glad people still read."
I then remembered seventh grade, being so chunky and awkward. Those mean girls and all their nasty words. I was chunky, I had acne, rub it in. In a lot of ways I am glad they did. Because my parents didn't let me watch television I became a reader and went on to write a book. I also developed an ability to make dolls talk. They teased me for this. Well let me tell you, my ability to make dolls talk is making me very famous. Ironically, I grew up for the most part without cable and in the dark and now my talking dolls have been on national television-cable if you will-many, many, times.
And my writing, which also made me the bullseye on the middle school dart board, is leading me to meet many a famous person. When I met him this summer Snoop Dogg took a post card for my book. And now Lauryn Hill's sound engineer is reading it. Tonight is the Grammy's. Lauryn Hill won one of those I do believe. Maybe this is crazy, maybe this is insane, but maybe it is a sign.
Either way, if I could go back in time to tell my thirteen year old self, anything, it would be to hang in there. That while it hurts that I carry a little more weight and have face acne and it only makes me a bigger target when they call me weird, weird will be the thing that sets me apart. Weird will be the thing that makes people love me. And weird will take me to places and let me do things that those mean girls will only get to watch on TV. Peoples let me tell you this is just the beginning.
Today I also met Deborah Harry, someone who I also worshipped growing up.
I will tell that story in Part Two of my blog tomorrow.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
February 9, 2013
Genius of Love (The Tom Toms)
Today's adventure was visiting my friend in jail. Yes, I visited a buddy in jail. Yes, I have shady friends sometimes. Well, he wasn't shady. He had a history of drug abuse and didn't want to get hooked on vicadin and accidentally sold to an undercover cop. Then he was put in a drug program where he absconded on a twenty four hour pass and relapsed and missed court. After being on the run for seven days he ended up in MDC-Manhattan Detention Complex.
Getting to MDC in the show was a trip but it was no biggie. I am a Northern East Coast Woman. I am used to snow. I debated whether or not to go but his mother had been talking me all week and they couldn't go because of the snow. Plus I missed my buddy who was so proud of me for writing my book and my puppet stuff. And this was my big chance to see him before he went to Rikers which by the way is a pain in the ass to get to. My mom didn't want me to go and said just wish him well. But I figured what else was I supposed to do? So I decided to go.
Walking into MDC I felt immediately like I was in jail. Maybe it was the metal detectors. Maybe it was the guards. Maybe it was being told I needed a locker for my cellphone and that I had to turn it off. When I went to get my pass they asked who I was going to see, and they didn't want the name but rather my friend's case number. It is weird saying you want to see someone and then calling off their case number. In some ways it is inhumane, doesn't even give them a proper identity. It's like they don't matter. They aren't a person. So many times organizations try to pitch and say that their customers aren't just a number. But here you are a number. After all, it is jail.
They asked me what my relationship was and I said friend. The guard shrugged and did a double take. They are used to women trying to get away with the bare minimum of clothing probably referring to themselves as girlfriend to see the male inmates. My buddy is gay. None of that would be happening here. I didn't want to tell the guard that, but my buddy's parents had been in all week and now they know them by name. Fortunately his mother is understanding about drugs and addiction, not many people's are.
After being processed I was in a waiting room watching the news. My stomach began to do flip flops. I had this feeling of doom. For some reason, although I had no reason to be scared, I feared they would get me for something. As a kid I always feared the principal's office and now it was like being in the principal's office but as an adult. Wait, this was worse than a principal's office. I didn't want to move for fear of being chastised. Another woman sat in the waiting area with me and flashed me a knowing, sympathetic smile. We were both there for the same thing. We both knew. The air in a jail is different. This is a place where you are told what to do, where to go, and freedom is another word for nothing left to lose in the words of Janice Joplin. Wait, freedom, what is that? That is what I have. My buddy, not so much. He got credit for time served but they were really thinking of throwing the book at him.
The lighting in a jail is different too. Most places try to have as much light as possible, happy if you will. Jails are kind of dark and scary. Sort of like the Shashank Redemption. My buddy's mother mentioned when you see an inmate you have to put a quarter in a locker and then put your stuff in there, but you get your quarter back or leave it for someone else out of good will. She leaves it for someone else. It's because it's the only ray of light there is in a jail.
My name was then called and off I went to see my buddy. I was escorted into a room with mostly playschool type tables and chairs and was directed where to go. The vibe of the place makes you comply. The guards have their eyes open and you don't even want to turn your head in the wrong direction. While it seems facist in some ways there are reasons for this. Security reasons.
My buddy came out wearing a lime green jump suit and was happy to see me and thanked me several times and mentioned he would not forget this. He seemed in good spirits and mentioned they changed his anti-depressant. I asked if I had woken him up and he said no, the timing was perfect. The reason I had come so early was because I knew around ten or eleven everyone and their damn mother would be there. My buddy had his hot coca and was happy. He mentioned that his mother was losing her blessed mind which was true. I had been talking to her all week. She was a nice lady but losing her mind, after all, her kid was looking at some time. I had written my boy a letter about a week ago and he mentioned he had written me but had no envelopes or stamps. Those things happen in jail. I told him lime green was a good color for him and we laughed about it.
My buddy mentioned he was happier in jail than he was in his drug program. He said he liked the structure of jail and played cards and stuff with the other inmates. I teased him because he likes black guys and told him he was probably having the time of his life. We both laughed at that. Then my buddy mentioned one Spanish guy with gold teeth had been hitting on him all week. I teased him about this dude liking him. However, I also cautioned my buddy that there were three places never to find love: Drug/Alcohol Twelve Step Meetings, Rehab, and Prison. A guy from the TC he had deviated from was dating this other chick there and well, we had a laugh about this romance destined for disaster.
Just then, we both looked around the room and the majority of guys in there were with female visitors. Some of these dudes were holding their hands and some of these women were getting that middle school droopy affectionate. I made a joke with my buddy that I should just start kissing him to make things awkward. We both agreed we shouldn't but laughed. Behind us there was a cute guy with a girlfriend who wore these tight assed jeans which she was probably given shit about upon walking in. My buddy observed that he was hot. Sure, he was hot but a little too gangsta for my type. Anyway, my buddy being his ever homo self began checking him out with me. We giggled like little school girls.
As I laughed and giggled with my buddy whether it was about the hottie and his gal pal or people we knew in general I began to forget I was visiting someone in jail. Even as he glanced at the clock knowing the hour would come to an end at some point it didn't feel like I was in the slammer. My buddy was making me laugh and we were having a good time. Nevermind I was dressed down no makeup and in jogging pants that hadn't been washed in some time. Nevermind he was talking about how he needed desperately to dye his hair. I was having a good time on a Saturday morning with my friend. Even as he mentioned that the perspective cell/tier mates ranged from petty thieves to people charged with rape, rape/murder, or just plain murder we were having a ball.
Just then the hot gangsta guy who was disgustingly kissing on his Boo playfully slapped her and the female guard said, "Dont you do that!" The room turned like WTF? Everyone got silent. This was strange. They say when things get silent in jail it is a bad thing. Something happened. I asked my buddy what happened who saw the whole thing out of the corner of his eye and he said the guy had playfully slapped the girl. I was like wowsa. And then my buddy added, "He is so cute that he can punch me anytime he wants." And then we both burst out laughing. I mentioned I was glad I didn't see any old boyfriends of mine and we both laughed again.
While gangsta boy was probably no homo with his gal pal he looked like he was a pro at this. I have a feeling he might be meeting my buddy for a love connection later. I mean it is jail. It could happen. Then my buddy asked how the snow had hit us and if it had stuck. Then it occurred to me that he didn't know because jails are not notorious for windows. I told him it wasn't so bad in the city but it was probably bad where his parents were.
They gave us fifteen extra minutes on our visit which was nice of them, probably because my buddy is a good prisoner and I was well behaved, plus there weren't a lot of people there. My buddy then mentioned he had to pee like a race horse. Some of it is a combo of his meds and probably the hot chocolate he had drank. But the other part of it was he had to say goodbye and he knew eventually I had to leave the jail, go back to my life. I think he wanted to do it in a fashion that wasn't too overdramatic but at the same time didn't want to show the envy that I got to leave and he didn't. While he is gay he is still a guy. I told him it was okay, he could pee. They had given us fifteen extra minutes anyway.
My friend then told me once again like he had at the beginning of the visit that he would never forget this. I know he won't. I often joked he was my gay husband. He'll be out in June and then we can hang out all the time. Maybe I can even go to Fire Island with him. Either way, I had to wait to be released after he left. After all, you are in jail. As I was reminded I was told I could depart. I walked back through the dim lighting, got my things, and then my cellphone. Upon leaving, one step away from freedom, I was reminded again when the guard asked me not to touch that key when the door wouldn't open. I asked her if I could turn my cellphone on in the building and she said no. I had to wait until I got outside. I thanked her, wished her a good day, and left. As I was on my way out more people were on their way in to see a friend, family member, or loved one whatever. Some knew their sentence, others did not. Either way, while my buddy says his mom is freaking out I can understand why. It must be stressful as hell to have a kid in jail.
As I walked back outside despite the snow the sun shone a little brighter. There was a pang of guilt that hit me. The guilt that I could leave while my buddy was damned to stay. Also the hatred of drugs and addiction and what they did to people. My buddy has a good heart but unfortunately has a drug problem. As a result he is in jail and his family is losing their ever blessed mind. While my buddy seems to be taking it in stride his mother isn't. Part of it might be his way of dealing, but maybe it hasn't hit yet. While his mother seems used to her son's battle with drugs, it probably still breaks her heart. Actually, I know it does. She told me so.
As the sun shone in my direction the guilt melted and was replaced by gratitude. I was not only grateful for my freedom, but grateful for all the good things I was doing with my freedom. It was also a gentle reminder to exercise good judgement at all times because as my mother used to say, "You don't have to work that hard to fuck up your life."I also realized my buddy wouldn't want me to feel guilt because he was so proud of me for the way my life was going. Once I didnt want to talk about my book and he stopped me and said, "You need to. You need to let people know they can do these things with their lives, April."
Before he got locked up my buddy had started my book and thought it was so special I was using my talents to make people's day, and was the first to describe my book as a "feel good book." I found myself saying a prayer for my friend and his gentle spirit, asking God to guide him in the process get his perspective shit together. I also found myself hating drugs and what they did to people and their lives. How they stole time, ripped families apart, and just destroyed lives and everything else in their path. Walking to the subway I smelled that someone had lit a joint and it made me sick. This was the shit that was costing my friend his freedom. Sure, it was Tina that was his drug but I was not in the mood for Mary Jane or her lighthearted, Scooby Doo watching antics.
As promised I called my buddy's mom who was grateful I visited and was having her driveway shoveled. Because my buddy can't have things with writing on them in jail, his mother is reading my book currently. I hope she enjoys it. She seems very nice and perhaps this will be the laugh she needs in this desperate hour of stress and darkness. I know he doesn't mean to cause her pain and even said so during the visit that it breaks his heart he does this, but addiction is an evil disease. With that, I gave God an extra thank you for my freedom and therefore promised to make better choices than I ever had and to be more responsible with it.
To detox I went to lunch with my girlfriends. One had jury duty this week and had been turned away, too many jurors and not enough cases. The one case was the cannibal cop. While my lady friend had been glad she was turned away, she was like wowsa. I wonder if the Cannibal Cop is at MDC. I wonder if my buddy will think he is hot. Or better yet, according to court documents he is straight. What if I have a shot with that hottie? I think I better go back. Oh no, maybe I better stay away for some time. I will be sending him my panties and the next thing I know roasting on a spit as he eats my brain.
Either way, I can't wait for my boy's release in June. And perhaps this time things will go right and he will get it right. Cause the hot boys will be running about and maybe we can both get one. Cause in the words of the Tom Toms, "What's you gonna do when you get out of jail? I'm gonna have some fun."
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available through 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook available through Kindle and Nook
Watch for the audio book
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
Getting to MDC in the show was a trip but it was no biggie. I am a Northern East Coast Woman. I am used to snow. I debated whether or not to go but his mother had been talking me all week and they couldn't go because of the snow. Plus I missed my buddy who was so proud of me for writing my book and my puppet stuff. And this was my big chance to see him before he went to Rikers which by the way is a pain in the ass to get to. My mom didn't want me to go and said just wish him well. But I figured what else was I supposed to do? So I decided to go.
Walking into MDC I felt immediately like I was in jail. Maybe it was the metal detectors. Maybe it was the guards. Maybe it was being told I needed a locker for my cellphone and that I had to turn it off. When I went to get my pass they asked who I was going to see, and they didn't want the name but rather my friend's case number. It is weird saying you want to see someone and then calling off their case number. In some ways it is inhumane, doesn't even give them a proper identity. It's like they don't matter. They aren't a person. So many times organizations try to pitch and say that their customers aren't just a number. But here you are a number. After all, it is jail.
They asked me what my relationship was and I said friend. The guard shrugged and did a double take. They are used to women trying to get away with the bare minimum of clothing probably referring to themselves as girlfriend to see the male inmates. My buddy is gay. None of that would be happening here. I didn't want to tell the guard that, but my buddy's parents had been in all week and now they know them by name. Fortunately his mother is understanding about drugs and addiction, not many people's are.
After being processed I was in a waiting room watching the news. My stomach began to do flip flops. I had this feeling of doom. For some reason, although I had no reason to be scared, I feared they would get me for something. As a kid I always feared the principal's office and now it was like being in the principal's office but as an adult. Wait, this was worse than a principal's office. I didn't want to move for fear of being chastised. Another woman sat in the waiting area with me and flashed me a knowing, sympathetic smile. We were both there for the same thing. We both knew. The air in a jail is different. This is a place where you are told what to do, where to go, and freedom is another word for nothing left to lose in the words of Janice Joplin. Wait, freedom, what is that? That is what I have. My buddy, not so much. He got credit for time served but they were really thinking of throwing the book at him.
The lighting in a jail is different too. Most places try to have as much light as possible, happy if you will. Jails are kind of dark and scary. Sort of like the Shashank Redemption. My buddy's mother mentioned when you see an inmate you have to put a quarter in a locker and then put your stuff in there, but you get your quarter back or leave it for someone else out of good will. She leaves it for someone else. It's because it's the only ray of light there is in a jail.
My name was then called and off I went to see my buddy. I was escorted into a room with mostly playschool type tables and chairs and was directed where to go. The vibe of the place makes you comply. The guards have their eyes open and you don't even want to turn your head in the wrong direction. While it seems facist in some ways there are reasons for this. Security reasons.
My buddy came out wearing a lime green jump suit and was happy to see me and thanked me several times and mentioned he would not forget this. He seemed in good spirits and mentioned they changed his anti-depressant. I asked if I had woken him up and he said no, the timing was perfect. The reason I had come so early was because I knew around ten or eleven everyone and their damn mother would be there. My buddy had his hot coca and was happy. He mentioned that his mother was losing her blessed mind which was true. I had been talking to her all week. She was a nice lady but losing her mind, after all, her kid was looking at some time. I had written my boy a letter about a week ago and he mentioned he had written me but had no envelopes or stamps. Those things happen in jail. I told him lime green was a good color for him and we laughed about it.
My buddy mentioned he was happier in jail than he was in his drug program. He said he liked the structure of jail and played cards and stuff with the other inmates. I teased him because he likes black guys and told him he was probably having the time of his life. We both laughed at that. Then my buddy mentioned one Spanish guy with gold teeth had been hitting on him all week. I teased him about this dude liking him. However, I also cautioned my buddy that there were three places never to find love: Drug/Alcohol Twelve Step Meetings, Rehab, and Prison. A guy from the TC he had deviated from was dating this other chick there and well, we had a laugh about this romance destined for disaster.
Just then, we both looked around the room and the majority of guys in there were with female visitors. Some of these dudes were holding their hands and some of these women were getting that middle school droopy affectionate. I made a joke with my buddy that I should just start kissing him to make things awkward. We both agreed we shouldn't but laughed. Behind us there was a cute guy with a girlfriend who wore these tight assed jeans which she was probably given shit about upon walking in. My buddy observed that he was hot. Sure, he was hot but a little too gangsta for my type. Anyway, my buddy being his ever homo self began checking him out with me. We giggled like little school girls.
As I laughed and giggled with my buddy whether it was about the hottie and his gal pal or people we knew in general I began to forget I was visiting someone in jail. Even as he glanced at the clock knowing the hour would come to an end at some point it didn't feel like I was in the slammer. My buddy was making me laugh and we were having a good time. Nevermind I was dressed down no makeup and in jogging pants that hadn't been washed in some time. Nevermind he was talking about how he needed desperately to dye his hair. I was having a good time on a Saturday morning with my friend. Even as he mentioned that the perspective cell/tier mates ranged from petty thieves to people charged with rape, rape/murder, or just plain murder we were having a ball.
Just then the hot gangsta guy who was disgustingly kissing on his Boo playfully slapped her and the female guard said, "Dont you do that!" The room turned like WTF? Everyone got silent. This was strange. They say when things get silent in jail it is a bad thing. Something happened. I asked my buddy what happened who saw the whole thing out of the corner of his eye and he said the guy had playfully slapped the girl. I was like wowsa. And then my buddy added, "He is so cute that he can punch me anytime he wants." And then we both burst out laughing. I mentioned I was glad I didn't see any old boyfriends of mine and we both laughed again.
While gangsta boy was probably no homo with his gal pal he looked like he was a pro at this. I have a feeling he might be meeting my buddy for a love connection later. I mean it is jail. It could happen. Then my buddy asked how the snow had hit us and if it had stuck. Then it occurred to me that he didn't know because jails are not notorious for windows. I told him it wasn't so bad in the city but it was probably bad where his parents were.
They gave us fifteen extra minutes on our visit which was nice of them, probably because my buddy is a good prisoner and I was well behaved, plus there weren't a lot of people there. My buddy then mentioned he had to pee like a race horse. Some of it is a combo of his meds and probably the hot chocolate he had drank. But the other part of it was he had to say goodbye and he knew eventually I had to leave the jail, go back to my life. I think he wanted to do it in a fashion that wasn't too overdramatic but at the same time didn't want to show the envy that I got to leave and he didn't. While he is gay he is still a guy. I told him it was okay, he could pee. They had given us fifteen extra minutes anyway.
My friend then told me once again like he had at the beginning of the visit that he would never forget this. I know he won't. I often joked he was my gay husband. He'll be out in June and then we can hang out all the time. Maybe I can even go to Fire Island with him. Either way, I had to wait to be released after he left. After all, you are in jail. As I was reminded I was told I could depart. I walked back through the dim lighting, got my things, and then my cellphone. Upon leaving, one step away from freedom, I was reminded again when the guard asked me not to touch that key when the door wouldn't open. I asked her if I could turn my cellphone on in the building and she said no. I had to wait until I got outside. I thanked her, wished her a good day, and left. As I was on my way out more people were on their way in to see a friend, family member, or loved one whatever. Some knew their sentence, others did not. Either way, while my buddy says his mom is freaking out I can understand why. It must be stressful as hell to have a kid in jail.
As I walked back outside despite the snow the sun shone a little brighter. There was a pang of guilt that hit me. The guilt that I could leave while my buddy was damned to stay. Also the hatred of drugs and addiction and what they did to people. My buddy has a good heart but unfortunately has a drug problem. As a result he is in jail and his family is losing their ever blessed mind. While my buddy seems to be taking it in stride his mother isn't. Part of it might be his way of dealing, but maybe it hasn't hit yet. While his mother seems used to her son's battle with drugs, it probably still breaks her heart. Actually, I know it does. She told me so.
As the sun shone in my direction the guilt melted and was replaced by gratitude. I was not only grateful for my freedom, but grateful for all the good things I was doing with my freedom. It was also a gentle reminder to exercise good judgement at all times because as my mother used to say, "You don't have to work that hard to fuck up your life."I also realized my buddy wouldn't want me to feel guilt because he was so proud of me for the way my life was going. Once I didnt want to talk about my book and he stopped me and said, "You need to. You need to let people know they can do these things with their lives, April."
Before he got locked up my buddy had started my book and thought it was so special I was using my talents to make people's day, and was the first to describe my book as a "feel good book." I found myself saying a prayer for my friend and his gentle spirit, asking God to guide him in the process get his perspective shit together. I also found myself hating drugs and what they did to people and their lives. How they stole time, ripped families apart, and just destroyed lives and everything else in their path. Walking to the subway I smelled that someone had lit a joint and it made me sick. This was the shit that was costing my friend his freedom. Sure, it was Tina that was his drug but I was not in the mood for Mary Jane or her lighthearted, Scooby Doo watching antics.
As promised I called my buddy's mom who was grateful I visited and was having her driveway shoveled. Because my buddy can't have things with writing on them in jail, his mother is reading my book currently. I hope she enjoys it. She seems very nice and perhaps this will be the laugh she needs in this desperate hour of stress and darkness. I know he doesn't mean to cause her pain and even said so during the visit that it breaks his heart he does this, but addiction is an evil disease. With that, I gave God an extra thank you for my freedom and therefore promised to make better choices than I ever had and to be more responsible with it.
To detox I went to lunch with my girlfriends. One had jury duty this week and had been turned away, too many jurors and not enough cases. The one case was the cannibal cop. While my lady friend had been glad she was turned away, she was like wowsa. I wonder if the Cannibal Cop is at MDC. I wonder if my buddy will think he is hot. Or better yet, according to court documents he is straight. What if I have a shot with that hottie? I think I better go back. Oh no, maybe I better stay away for some time. I will be sending him my panties and the next thing I know roasting on a spit as he eats my brain.
Either way, I can't wait for my boy's release in June. And perhaps this time things will go right and he will get it right. Cause the hot boys will be running about and maybe we can both get one. Cause in the words of the Tom Toms, "What's you gonna do when you get out of jail? I'm gonna have some fun."
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available through 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
Ebook available through Kindle and Nook
Watch for the audio book
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
February 8, 2013
Party and Bullshit (Notorious B.I.G)
When I was in middle school Biggie Smalls was big. I mean, he was already a big guy but he was a big star. When he got killed his murder was big news. Puffy made a billion dedications and when we were watching the VMA's my mother made a crack about it being the throngs of his kiddies out of wedlock. Whateves.
We didn't have cable in our house so we were a little in the dark. As a matter of fact I called him The Notorious Big and everyone laughed at me. Then he got shot. I never met the guy which made me sad. He could spit out mad rhymes and had an idea of what it was to be an outcast like I was. Biggie or Christopher Wallace like he was known to his mother was overweight and dropped out of school to sell drugs. I was overweight at the time and loved to write poetry. I didnt dare spit mad rhymes. But still, he seemed to live a cool life, making money even from the grave. Hey, he supported his family.
In high school I had a friend who could take me home from school every day. I will admit I crushed on him a little, him being the bad boy I dreamed of. At the time I was someone who's parents still wouldnt let her date at eighteen. He smoked, drank, and did all the things I thought I would never do but eventually did and more. When we used to ride home from school he played B.I.G. I still think, "Biggie Smalls is the illest."
The following year I moved to NYC and had one of the worst years of my life to date. Chilling near school, I ended up in what was once Empire Records and purchased Ready to Die by Biggie. Yes, the lyrics were a little sexist and degrading to women at times but the rhymes were ill. Plus it gave me a connection to the streets of New York. Despite what people thought of me I knew I had a heart and soul in me, a street vibe. It was a side of me I had always known was there but hadnt tapped. It was April the Bad Ass.
Okay not really, but it helped me shed a layer of skin on me and off I went. Being April Brucker.
The Bad Ass got me in trouble I never dreamed of at certain points. I laugh about it now because Bad Ass was actually Bad Actor as in stupid or Dumb Ass as in dumb. Still it gave me some good stories. But Biggie had lots of good stories probly.
About eight years later, and some TV credits later, I got the chance to guest judge a hip hop show Uptown. The rap stars all went in and were stripped search, a bi-product of Biggie's era, an era where rappers feuded from different sides of the country and killed each other over music. One guest judge worked for a record label, another was the original DJ Spinderella from Salt 'n'Pepa
Spin had come from a musical family, and her father had been a sax player for James Brown. We spoke about the people she knew and Spin told me she knew Biggie and was close to him. I asked her how he was as a person. Spin said he was "the sweetest, biggest Teddy Bear." I laughed remembering his rapping about Gats, robbing trains, and slapping hos being a pimp daddy. Spin agreed.
Spin then told an endearing story about how she used to watch some kids and how they didn't want to go to school, because they were kids of course. At the time, Spin was running out of options. Spin mentioned she knew Biggie but they didn't believe her. Well Spin then called Biggie and informed him of her ordeal. Biggie then stepped in with the perfect plan. He called the house and Spin put him on the phone with the kids. Biggie proceeded to introduce himself as Biggie Smalls, rap a little, and then told them they had to listen to Spin and go to school. The story was sweet and while I had been a fan to begin with, this made me happy I had spent money on his albums and listened to him during those rides home senior year. This also made me angry someone killed him, someone probably close to him. Then I realized this story, this anecdote made the fat man who liked big booty bitches a son, brother, and father; it made him real.
A few months later as a part of a web network I used to spit freestyle rhymes. While I had my dissers there were many who said I went hard for a white girl. In my heart I know it was because once upon a time I was an overweight outcast. I hated school and struggled to find my place. My dreams were big and I knew the sky was the limit. I dreamed of getting out and getting the rainbow. Then I realized I dreamed big, just like B.I.G. That is why I wasn't afraid to hit it as hard as I did on the mic.
And he is probably rolling his eyes and laughing from the after life talking trash about my abilities or lackthereof.
Party and bullshit.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com for paperback
Ebook on Nook and Kindle
Watch out for audiobook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
We didn't have cable in our house so we were a little in the dark. As a matter of fact I called him The Notorious Big and everyone laughed at me. Then he got shot. I never met the guy which made me sad. He could spit out mad rhymes and had an idea of what it was to be an outcast like I was. Biggie or Christopher Wallace like he was known to his mother was overweight and dropped out of school to sell drugs. I was overweight at the time and loved to write poetry. I didnt dare spit mad rhymes. But still, he seemed to live a cool life, making money even from the grave. Hey, he supported his family.
In high school I had a friend who could take me home from school every day. I will admit I crushed on him a little, him being the bad boy I dreamed of. At the time I was someone who's parents still wouldnt let her date at eighteen. He smoked, drank, and did all the things I thought I would never do but eventually did and more. When we used to ride home from school he played B.I.G. I still think, "Biggie Smalls is the illest."
The following year I moved to NYC and had one of the worst years of my life to date. Chilling near school, I ended up in what was once Empire Records and purchased Ready to Die by Biggie. Yes, the lyrics were a little sexist and degrading to women at times but the rhymes were ill. Plus it gave me a connection to the streets of New York. Despite what people thought of me I knew I had a heart and soul in me, a street vibe. It was a side of me I had always known was there but hadnt tapped. It was April the Bad Ass.
Okay not really, but it helped me shed a layer of skin on me and off I went. Being April Brucker.
The Bad Ass got me in trouble I never dreamed of at certain points. I laugh about it now because Bad Ass was actually Bad Actor as in stupid or Dumb Ass as in dumb. Still it gave me some good stories. But Biggie had lots of good stories probly.
About eight years later, and some TV credits later, I got the chance to guest judge a hip hop show Uptown. The rap stars all went in and were stripped search, a bi-product of Biggie's era, an era where rappers feuded from different sides of the country and killed each other over music. One guest judge worked for a record label, another was the original DJ Spinderella from Salt 'n'Pepa
Spin had come from a musical family, and her father had been a sax player for James Brown. We spoke about the people she knew and Spin told me she knew Biggie and was close to him. I asked her how he was as a person. Spin said he was "the sweetest, biggest Teddy Bear." I laughed remembering his rapping about Gats, robbing trains, and slapping hos being a pimp daddy. Spin agreed.
Spin then told an endearing story about how she used to watch some kids and how they didn't want to go to school, because they were kids of course. At the time, Spin was running out of options. Spin mentioned she knew Biggie but they didn't believe her. Well Spin then called Biggie and informed him of her ordeal. Biggie then stepped in with the perfect plan. He called the house and Spin put him on the phone with the kids. Biggie proceeded to introduce himself as Biggie Smalls, rap a little, and then told them they had to listen to Spin and go to school. The story was sweet and while I had been a fan to begin with, this made me happy I had spent money on his albums and listened to him during those rides home senior year. This also made me angry someone killed him, someone probably close to him. Then I realized this story, this anecdote made the fat man who liked big booty bitches a son, brother, and father; it made him real.
A few months later as a part of a web network I used to spit freestyle rhymes. While I had my dissers there were many who said I went hard for a white girl. In my heart I know it was because once upon a time I was an overweight outcast. I hated school and struggled to find my place. My dreams were big and I knew the sky was the limit. I dreamed of getting out and getting the rainbow. Then I realized I dreamed big, just like B.I.G. That is why I wasn't afraid to hit it as hard as I did on the mic.
And he is probably rolling his eyes and laughing from the after life talking trash about my abilities or lackthereof.
Party and bullshit.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com for paperback
Ebook on Nook and Kindle
Watch out for audiobook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
February 7, 2013
When I Was Your Man (Bruno Mars)
I was with my baby sister this past weekend and yes she now has a love life. Skipper has grown up so quickly. It is weird. I actually like her boyfriend believe it or not. I only threatened to kill him twice if he didn't treat my sister right. He was a good sport about it, and if my sister ends up closing the story book and living happily ever after with this guy it would be far from the worst thing ever. Believe it or not I left the trip liking him and not wanting to kill him. Skipper seems happy.
I had the forever talk with my sister. There is still a lot to think about before Skipper says forever. One is where she will match. The other is, the relationship is still in it's infancy. Their dark sides haven't come out yet and clashed.
I ended up having a deep talk with Skipper. Basically I told her that if this guy turned out to be a good guy to hold on to him. If not let him go. I told my sister that a terrible relationship could damage her forever and once you were damaged goods with a few severe dents you would never be what you once were. And at the same time don't be hasty and let someone go and then look back and regret it. I know, projecting my shit onto my own baby sister. I get it.
I remembered being twenty one and somehow becoming engaged to perhaps one of the biggest psychopaths I have met to date. At the beginning it was great. Then suddenly he was telling me my comedy sucked. Then he told me it was him or the puppets. After that the fights got violent. I remember even between him offering to kill his mother to get the insurance money to be with me I wanted to stay. When I ended it he stalked me and had his old girlfriends threaten me as well. I got a different mailing address and the memories still give me nightmares. You thought I would have been eager for a nice guy after that?
Hell no.
I dated bottom feeders because I felt like that was all I was worth. They didn't want to take me seriously and they didn't mind my ex was stalking me. The worse they treated me the more I wanted them.
There were some nice guys who came along and wanted to treat me well. One in particular really liked me. But the nicer he was to me the bitchier I was back. Some of it was that I was going through some intense shit at the time, an ex who was trying to kill himself at least once a week to get my attention. Some of it was that I didn't know how to be treated right. Needless to say the clusterfuck ended badly and if he saw me somewhere he would run. I heard he got married and is happy. I am glad he is happy, and frankly I feel bad I couldn't be the one to give it to him.
Then there was another one who would have given me the planet and I just wanted to give him grief. He lost my number and found the number of some girl who was nice and now they are engaged. I saw them and it made me want to stick a knife in my head, especially since I blew him off for a guy who had legal issues at the time.
Of course there was one who I was extremely mean to. He really cared about me and the only thing I cared about was getting under his skin. The closer he got the more I wanted to kick him. The nicer the things he did the more I retaliated. Not to mention when he told me he loved me I started cheating on him. Bitch was an understatement. I embarrassed him in public with my antics, called him names, and left him no choice but to call it over. He has a new girlfriend who hates my guts because I was so mean to him. His family hates me because I was so mean. Granted, my ex-fiance was posting scantily clad photos of me with the word slut on them in every online forum he could. But my then boyfriend was a really good sport about my stalker calling and hanging up whenever we were together.
I know this nuttiness, the jealousy, the outright bitch was the result of an abusive relationship and stalker ex. There was only one who could get past that and well, he was a bipolar who wouldnt comply with his psych meds and a drug addict and I had to let him go. He could handle my bitch and that made him special. It was because he could see the shitoeous behavior wasn't the result of a horrid attitude but because I was a damaged person. He knew how not to take it seriously in a way no other guy had. But alas, he was more damaged than I was.
Maybe I can't get a nice guy because I can't be nice. I know that. Plus I know when I go down my list of losers starting with the stalker ex who tried to kill himself in front of me twice I am not exactly what you take home to mom. And then it might get awkward when I realize I dated his dad at one point which has happened to me by the way. Some would say this is colorful. That is one way to describe it. Others would just call me an asshole and a goof ball.
But I just think of all those guys I used to jerk around and think of all the things I shouldn't have said and all the ways I should have behaved. And how they are all happy and it is too late for us. While I am sure my sister's judgement is better once you are a pickle you can never be a cucumber again. I know full well what it is like in life having to travel with a past where your psyche is scarred from an abusive psycho and all the things that follow taking it out on anyone and everyone you encounter in the wide world of dating. And how all your anger and grief just isolates you to the point where when you exit hell all you see is burnt ash and rubble.
Then I think of that line in As Good as it Gets. Jack Nicholson, a Duke in the Kingdom of the Damaged sums it up best, "Some people are on a hill, having a picnic, eating noodle salad. Just no one in this car."
To come to think of it I don't like noodle salad anyway. Plus this experience helps me speak to young women who write to me. Perhaps God never gives us more than we can handle, and this was the catalyst to help me get it together and get my dreams in motion never to let anyone take me down. Either way, I sometimes wish I wasn't so mean to some of the guys in my past.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
ebook on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
I had the forever talk with my sister. There is still a lot to think about before Skipper says forever. One is where she will match. The other is, the relationship is still in it's infancy. Their dark sides haven't come out yet and clashed.
I ended up having a deep talk with Skipper. Basically I told her that if this guy turned out to be a good guy to hold on to him. If not let him go. I told my sister that a terrible relationship could damage her forever and once you were damaged goods with a few severe dents you would never be what you once were. And at the same time don't be hasty and let someone go and then look back and regret it. I know, projecting my shit onto my own baby sister. I get it.
I remembered being twenty one and somehow becoming engaged to perhaps one of the biggest psychopaths I have met to date. At the beginning it was great. Then suddenly he was telling me my comedy sucked. Then he told me it was him or the puppets. After that the fights got violent. I remember even between him offering to kill his mother to get the insurance money to be with me I wanted to stay. When I ended it he stalked me and had his old girlfriends threaten me as well. I got a different mailing address and the memories still give me nightmares. You thought I would have been eager for a nice guy after that?
Hell no.
I dated bottom feeders because I felt like that was all I was worth. They didn't want to take me seriously and they didn't mind my ex was stalking me. The worse they treated me the more I wanted them.
There were some nice guys who came along and wanted to treat me well. One in particular really liked me. But the nicer he was to me the bitchier I was back. Some of it was that I was going through some intense shit at the time, an ex who was trying to kill himself at least once a week to get my attention. Some of it was that I didn't know how to be treated right. Needless to say the clusterfuck ended badly and if he saw me somewhere he would run. I heard he got married and is happy. I am glad he is happy, and frankly I feel bad I couldn't be the one to give it to him.
Then there was another one who would have given me the planet and I just wanted to give him grief. He lost my number and found the number of some girl who was nice and now they are engaged. I saw them and it made me want to stick a knife in my head, especially since I blew him off for a guy who had legal issues at the time.
Of course there was one who I was extremely mean to. He really cared about me and the only thing I cared about was getting under his skin. The closer he got the more I wanted to kick him. The nicer the things he did the more I retaliated. Not to mention when he told me he loved me I started cheating on him. Bitch was an understatement. I embarrassed him in public with my antics, called him names, and left him no choice but to call it over. He has a new girlfriend who hates my guts because I was so mean to him. His family hates me because I was so mean. Granted, my ex-fiance was posting scantily clad photos of me with the word slut on them in every online forum he could. But my then boyfriend was a really good sport about my stalker calling and hanging up whenever we were together.
I know this nuttiness, the jealousy, the outright bitch was the result of an abusive relationship and stalker ex. There was only one who could get past that and well, he was a bipolar who wouldnt comply with his psych meds and a drug addict and I had to let him go. He could handle my bitch and that made him special. It was because he could see the shitoeous behavior wasn't the result of a horrid attitude but because I was a damaged person. He knew how not to take it seriously in a way no other guy had. But alas, he was more damaged than I was.
Maybe I can't get a nice guy because I can't be nice. I know that. Plus I know when I go down my list of losers starting with the stalker ex who tried to kill himself in front of me twice I am not exactly what you take home to mom. And then it might get awkward when I realize I dated his dad at one point which has happened to me by the way. Some would say this is colorful. That is one way to describe it. Others would just call me an asshole and a goof ball.
But I just think of all those guys I used to jerk around and think of all the things I shouldn't have said and all the ways I should have behaved. And how they are all happy and it is too late for us. While I am sure my sister's judgement is better once you are a pickle you can never be a cucumber again. I know full well what it is like in life having to travel with a past where your psyche is scarred from an abusive psycho and all the things that follow taking it out on anyone and everyone you encounter in the wide world of dating. And how all your anger and grief just isolates you to the point where when you exit hell all you see is burnt ash and rubble.
Then I think of that line in As Good as it Gets. Jack Nicholson, a Duke in the Kingdom of the Damaged sums it up best, "Some people are on a hill, having a picnic, eating noodle salad. Just no one in this car."
To come to think of it I don't like noodle salad anyway. Plus this experience helps me speak to young women who write to me. Perhaps God never gives us more than we can handle, and this was the catalyst to help me get it together and get my dreams in motion never to let anyone take me down. Either way, I sometimes wish I wasn't so mean to some of the guys in my past.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
ebook on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
February 3, 2013
Bitten
Last night I got into Providence. Backstory, it is a pleasure cruise mixed with business. While it is an excuse to see my sister, I am also working on a project for PACE (Providence Alliance for Clinical Educators) using my puppets. It is discharge instructions for children from hospitals post fever. When I buzzed into town my sister had organized a mini get together with her friends. It was an excuse to see Skipper, meet her new boyfriend and see her friends whom have grown up so much in front of me.
We had food, I read everyone's astro charts, and there was lots of laughter. Then we went dancing. It was a hipster place that Skipper had heard lots of good things about and had been to once or twice. She warned me that the place was dark and the music was loud.
We danced for a bit-well not really cause they were hipsters-to the electro upstairs and then made our way downstairs to the hip hop. For the most part these were dorky kids, Brown and RISD kids. I didnt mind. The DJ looked like he crawled out of Alphabet City somewhere which was fun. I ended up talking to a guy named Bristol who was kinda drunk. Then I macked on a dude in a suit who was there with a girl and shot me down. I am usually shy when it comes to guys and am perpetually single. My sister Skipper always has a boyfriend and was trying to play matchmaker for the night. With my puppets away, it was just me, the music, and the throng of hipster men.
Skipper pointed out that there was a guy behind me who wanted to dance. So I asked him to dance and we started dancing. At first it was innocent and then he seriously began grinding on me. While it was awkward and uncomfortable, maybe he didnt get much female action just like I dont get much male action. Then the started touching my belt loops and trying to put his hands in my pockets. Weird but okay. The song was almost over.
Thats when he tried to kiss me. This was moving much, much too fast especially since I couldn't see his face in such a dark room. A few minutes later, his mouth made it's way to my shoulder and HE BIT ME!
I couldn't believe it. He gave me a little love bite. I said it, the spooky boy bit me. He was Damien the Devil Boy from South Park or the stepson of Dracula, either way I didnt know. He had seemed sort of pale but it all made sense.
I had remembered a conversation with my Skipper's friends at dinner about how in your early twenties you thrived on drama, but around the time you were twenty five you were over it. I would have been twisted enough to make this man a boyfriend at some time in my life. Risk all for a fool who probably was on psych meds he didn't take. Or fall in love with someone who bit me. But common sense and instinct kicked in. I shoved him and ran.
My sister Skipper and her boyfriend promptly ran after me and asked what happened. "I got bitten." I replied.
I showed the future ER doctor the place I was bitten and Skipper told me not to worry. I am glad she is not going into match making and sticking with medicine instead.
But as I explained I was bitten she kept laughing.
Now that I think of it today it is sort of hot he bit me. Maybe I havent grown up as much as I thought
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com for paperback
Ebook available on Nook and Kindle
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
We had food, I read everyone's astro charts, and there was lots of laughter. Then we went dancing. It was a hipster place that Skipper had heard lots of good things about and had been to once or twice. She warned me that the place was dark and the music was loud.
We danced for a bit-well not really cause they were hipsters-to the electro upstairs and then made our way downstairs to the hip hop. For the most part these were dorky kids, Brown and RISD kids. I didnt mind. The DJ looked like he crawled out of Alphabet City somewhere which was fun. I ended up talking to a guy named Bristol who was kinda drunk. Then I macked on a dude in a suit who was there with a girl and shot me down. I am usually shy when it comes to guys and am perpetually single. My sister Skipper always has a boyfriend and was trying to play matchmaker for the night. With my puppets away, it was just me, the music, and the throng of hipster men.
Skipper pointed out that there was a guy behind me who wanted to dance. So I asked him to dance and we started dancing. At first it was innocent and then he seriously began grinding on me. While it was awkward and uncomfortable, maybe he didnt get much female action just like I dont get much male action. Then the started touching my belt loops and trying to put his hands in my pockets. Weird but okay. The song was almost over.
Thats when he tried to kiss me. This was moving much, much too fast especially since I couldn't see his face in such a dark room. A few minutes later, his mouth made it's way to my shoulder and HE BIT ME!
I couldn't believe it. He gave me a little love bite. I said it, the spooky boy bit me. He was Damien the Devil Boy from South Park or the stepson of Dracula, either way I didnt know. He had seemed sort of pale but it all made sense.
I had remembered a conversation with my Skipper's friends at dinner about how in your early twenties you thrived on drama, but around the time you were twenty five you were over it. I would have been twisted enough to make this man a boyfriend at some time in my life. Risk all for a fool who probably was on psych meds he didn't take. Or fall in love with someone who bit me. But common sense and instinct kicked in. I shoved him and ran.
My sister Skipper and her boyfriend promptly ran after me and asked what happened. "I got bitten." I replied.
I showed the future ER doctor the place I was bitten and Skipper told me not to worry. I am glad she is not going into match making and sticking with medicine instead.
But as I explained I was bitten she kept laughing.
Now that I think of it today it is sort of hot he bit me. Maybe I havent grown up as much as I thought
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com for paperback
Ebook available on Nook and Kindle
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
February 1, 2013
Something I Can Never Have (Nine Inch Nails)
I recently had a friend of mine fall off track. Yes, as in no longer sober. As in abscond from his court appointed drug program. Actually abscond is a fancy word for took a detour on a twenty four hour pass and then go on the run missing court. Essentially fucking up. I don't know what hurts my heart worse. The fact he was doing so well for once and slipped and is now going to be a guest for Club Fed, or the fact I blew him off the last two times he wanted to hang out because I was busy with my life and my career.
This is a particular friend I love and care for. He was excited and proud of me when I published my book. I remember once we were chilling and I didnt know whether to mention my book to my other friends, cohorts from the wild phase of my life. My friend said to me, "You need to tell them about your book, April. These people know that if they get their shit together they can do cool things, too."
Things had been looking good for this friend too. He was talking about teaching dance again, because he had once toured with a national show. He was talking about going back to school. Then this all happened.
Some say jail might be a better place for him. The lack of freedom will make it hard for him to get in trouble. Maybe there will be twelve step or other drug rehabilitation resources. Maybe the time behind bars will help him.
But maybe not. Jails make people worse. And jails are terrible places for drug addicts. Not to mention my friend is gay and might be a target for other inmates.
I guess I miss my buddy and his texts. I also get sickened by what drugs do to people. I think of all the people I lost over the years as a result of their drug/alcohol abuse. I have known people who have overdosed, been murdered, or killed themselves because they couldnt take chasing the freaking dragon followed by the terrible lie. Drugs rip apart families and destroy lives.
The worst part is society just tells people to say no. Saying no is not enough because addiction is a disease. I don't think they should even send drug addicts to jail.
On the other hand, my buddy knew what he was doing when he absconded. It had nothing to do with me. It was his decision. He knew what was going to happen.
I want to visit him in jail before they move him to Club Fed, but I feel like a bitch cause I will get to go home and he won't. Either way, tonight I am putting together a package to get my book in another store. During that errand I will write a letter to my friend and let him know I still love him and care.
I will also keep him in my prayers and hope that God guides him the right way.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com paperback
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
This is a particular friend I love and care for. He was excited and proud of me when I published my book. I remember once we were chilling and I didnt know whether to mention my book to my other friends, cohorts from the wild phase of my life. My friend said to me, "You need to tell them about your book, April. These people know that if they get their shit together they can do cool things, too."
Things had been looking good for this friend too. He was talking about teaching dance again, because he had once toured with a national show. He was talking about going back to school. Then this all happened.
Some say jail might be a better place for him. The lack of freedom will make it hard for him to get in trouble. Maybe there will be twelve step or other drug rehabilitation resources. Maybe the time behind bars will help him.
But maybe not. Jails make people worse. And jails are terrible places for drug addicts. Not to mention my friend is gay and might be a target for other inmates.
I guess I miss my buddy and his texts. I also get sickened by what drugs do to people. I think of all the people I lost over the years as a result of their drug/alcohol abuse. I have known people who have overdosed, been murdered, or killed themselves because they couldnt take chasing the freaking dragon followed by the terrible lie. Drugs rip apart families and destroy lives.
The worst part is society just tells people to say no. Saying no is not enough because addiction is a disease. I don't think they should even send drug addicts to jail.
On the other hand, my buddy knew what he was doing when he absconded. It had nothing to do with me. It was his decision. He knew what was going to happen.
I want to visit him in jail before they move him to Club Fed, but I feel like a bitch cause I will get to go home and he won't. Either way, tonight I am putting together a package to get my book in another store. During that errand I will write a letter to my friend and let him know I still love him and care.
I will also keep him in my prayers and hope that God guides him the right way.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com paperback
Ebook available on Kindle and Nook
January 31, 2013
Dry Humping in Public
I have been sick for the last few days and yuckolicious. Anyway, I was out getting my soup and there was this disgusting couple dry humping in public. I mean this guy and this girl were all over each other. The guy and girl were basically sucking each other's faces and then he lifts her up and just is dry humping her. I mean, they are going full at it and her back is against the wall. I was like, wow, holy inappropriate.
Well I looked over to get a closer look at the love birds and they were ugly. The guy was looking like a gerbil rat love child mix and then the girl had this wart on her face. I felt like I was going to vomit and I already had an upset stomach.
Then it gets worse. Another passerby felt my grief as he said, "GEt a room."
To which the love birds replied, "Welcome to New York."
No, more like welcome to hell. Seriously, this was disgusting. I should have thrown fruit at them or something.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available as an ebook on Kindle and Nook
Well I looked over to get a closer look at the love birds and they were ugly. The guy was looking like a gerbil rat love child mix and then the girl had this wart on her face. I felt like I was going to vomit and I already had an upset stomach.
Then it gets worse. Another passerby felt my grief as he said, "GEt a room."
To which the love birds replied, "Welcome to New York."
No, more like welcome to hell. Seriously, this was disgusting. I should have thrown fruit at them or something.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book, www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available as an ebook on Kindle and Nook
January 30, 2013
IndieWood
I have started my own production company and I am calling it IndieWood. We are indie all the way and we are taking over Hollywood. Yes, it is all my own. I have been filming videos long enough and it is finally time kiddies. I don't know what is next but I know that it is just time to do this. Anyway I decided to do this after a few things happened.
Let me start by saying I am currently unrepresented and unsigned. At one time the idea of no agent or manager would make me scream. What was I going to do? No one would want me and I would never become a star. Then what happened was I fired my agent and manager at the time because nothing was coming out of the business arrangement. I later learned having an agent and manager meant nothing actually. Most of the time they were burnt out actors or idiots who wanted to be close to show business who cared nothing about their clients. Or they blindly submitted based on a photo and wasted your time at auditions for things you would not be good for. Disconnected without knowing you or caring, they gave you bum career advice. Or they only saw a shallow version of what you could do and being narrow minded losers they didnt want to risk dreaming big. What happened was I stopped looking for an agent or manager and decided to be my own.
While it is more work, I decide the course of my future and the number of my stars. Plus the industry has changed so much. It used to be you went to drama school, trained, and that was respected. Reality TV has changed everything. The unions are a joke these days, and most networks are opting for reality shows because they are cheaper to produce and don't have to deal with the unions. Plus most reality folks are unrepresented for the most part. Bottom line, you don't need an agent or manager. These days you need yourself and your dreams.
After being without an agent or manager for some time, I ironically started to get on television quite a bit. While friends of mine who were represented by big names languished in obscurity or waited months between gigs, I found myself working on the regular. Not to mention was recognized on the street.
I have always been a soul and an artist who has done things her own way. I was kicked out of my first acting school, only to book an acting job a week later and to be perhaps the only person out of that cest pool who is managing to make a name for themselves. I was fired from a club I did a lot for, only to become a well loved talking head, write a book, and get my music on the radio. These things would kill most but only made me stronger. Not to mention I have always found a way to grab my star without anyone giving me any kind of ladder whatsoever. During this time my book has been featured on a promo for Nook and the official website for Britney Spears.
Indiewood is about being unrepresented and proud. It's about thinking outside of the box. It is about being your own person. It is about saying fuck you to the constraints the world places on thought.
Indiewood's next project is a musical. We will get on Broadway. We have gotten this far on our own.
You watch us.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Person
www.buybooksontheweb.com, 877-Buy-Books for paperback
ebook available on Nook and Kindle
Portion of the Proceeds go to RAINN
Let me start by saying I am currently unrepresented and unsigned. At one time the idea of no agent or manager would make me scream. What was I going to do? No one would want me and I would never become a star. Then what happened was I fired my agent and manager at the time because nothing was coming out of the business arrangement. I later learned having an agent and manager meant nothing actually. Most of the time they were burnt out actors or idiots who wanted to be close to show business who cared nothing about their clients. Or they blindly submitted based on a photo and wasted your time at auditions for things you would not be good for. Disconnected without knowing you or caring, they gave you bum career advice. Or they only saw a shallow version of what you could do and being narrow minded losers they didnt want to risk dreaming big. What happened was I stopped looking for an agent or manager and decided to be my own.
While it is more work, I decide the course of my future and the number of my stars. Plus the industry has changed so much. It used to be you went to drama school, trained, and that was respected. Reality TV has changed everything. The unions are a joke these days, and most networks are opting for reality shows because they are cheaper to produce and don't have to deal with the unions. Plus most reality folks are unrepresented for the most part. Bottom line, you don't need an agent or manager. These days you need yourself and your dreams.
After being without an agent or manager for some time, I ironically started to get on television quite a bit. While friends of mine who were represented by big names languished in obscurity or waited months between gigs, I found myself working on the regular. Not to mention was recognized on the street.
I have always been a soul and an artist who has done things her own way. I was kicked out of my first acting school, only to book an acting job a week later and to be perhaps the only person out of that cest pool who is managing to make a name for themselves. I was fired from a club I did a lot for, only to become a well loved talking head, write a book, and get my music on the radio. These things would kill most but only made me stronger. Not to mention I have always found a way to grab my star without anyone giving me any kind of ladder whatsoever. During this time my book has been featured on a promo for Nook and the official website for Britney Spears.
Indiewood is about being unrepresented and proud. It's about thinking outside of the box. It is about being your own person. It is about saying fuck you to the constraints the world places on thought.
Indiewood's next project is a musical. We will get on Broadway. We have gotten this far on our own.
You watch us.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Person
www.buybooksontheweb.com, 877-Buy-Books for paperback
ebook available on Nook and Kindle
Portion of the Proceeds go to RAINN
