April E. Brucker's Blog, page 62
January 28, 2013
Adventures With A Nigerian Scammer
A few days ago, as I lie in bed sick, I was messaged by a man from Nigeria. He was one of the many randos I befriended on the good old facebook. Anyway the message exchange went like this.
Nigerian Scammer: Hey.
Me: Hey.
Nigerian Scammer: I am a holy man of God starting a mission and have a diamond mine. I think you should invest your money.
Me: Where are you from?
This is fishy, way fishy.
Nigerian Scammer: Nigeria.
Me: You're a Nigerian Scammer!!!!
Nigerian: No, I am a minster and a holy man of God. I am a Christian and have a diamond mine.
Me: Well Christian and scammer are one in the same.
Nigerian: I am not a scammer. I have proof. I met your father a year ago when he came over here. Ask him, he knows I am not a scammer.
Wait a minute. My dad is the type who never travels out of the state of PA unless he is visiting NYC for the Heismans, visiting my bro and sis in Providence or going to South Carolina to vacation. My dad never went to Nigeria. SCAMMER!!!!
Me: My dad has never been to Nigeria and will never go. You are a scammer. Admit it right now.
Nigerian: I am a man of God with a diamond mine. Your father helped me establish a school for children.
Me: My dad does a lot of work for kids but he doesn't work with scammers. My dad puts people like you in jail. And you won't be able to message me again because I am blocking you.
BLOCK
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
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
Nigerian Scammer: Hey.
Me: Hey.
Nigerian Scammer: I am a holy man of God starting a mission and have a diamond mine. I think you should invest your money.
Me: Where are you from?
This is fishy, way fishy.
Nigerian Scammer: Nigeria.
Me: You're a Nigerian Scammer!!!!
Nigerian: No, I am a minster and a holy man of God. I am a Christian and have a diamond mine.
Me: Well Christian and scammer are one in the same.
Nigerian: I am not a scammer. I have proof. I met your father a year ago when he came over here. Ask him, he knows I am not a scammer.
Wait a minute. My dad is the type who never travels out of the state of PA unless he is visiting NYC for the Heismans, visiting my bro and sis in Providence or going to South Carolina to vacation. My dad never went to Nigeria. SCAMMER!!!!
Me: My dad has never been to Nigeria and will never go. You are a scammer. Admit it right now.
Nigerian: I am a man of God with a diamond mine. Your father helped me establish a school for children.
Me: My dad does a lot of work for kids but he doesn't work with scammers. My dad puts people like you in jail. And you won't be able to message me again because I am blocking you.
BLOCK
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
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
January 27, 2013
Beating Yourself With a Feather
A lot of times I get letters from young people or people who have seen my work that want my esteemed advice. I don't know why on Earth they would want that garbage. My twenties have been spent in dingy basements, dating ex cons, and then there was that fugitive. I am hardly the wealth of good decisions. Okay, but at least my stories are colorful. But those are for a different day. That being said everyone wants advice on writing and how to do it if they can't focus, or how to make videos or how to pursue comedy or follow the dream and you name it.
Artists especially are easily frustrated. In an industry where one must get used to rejection and poverty, there are very few spots at the top starring in motion pictures and living in Posh Beverly Hills Pads. As a result everyone is just racing like a bunch of rats for the same cheese and is in a hurry to get it. But with every piece of cheese comes a glue trap. It's the pressure to succeed, to be at the top. It's the pressure to be recognized. It's the pressure to create worthwhile work. It's the pressure to be a good artist. It is the pressure to be happy.
I remember being a young comedian in the city and just felt overwhelmed. I was grabbing for my star and it looked like it was crashing down on my head. Being daring and unique I showed a lot of promise right away. I got on television without even trying it seemed. People paid me money. I was in a pilot. I was going to be a superstar. Putting my hands under my pits like Mary Katherine Gallagher I was ready to go.
But then it didnt happen. My TV appearance yielded nothing. As for the pilot, it didnt get picked up. I had a falling out with one booker, and then the market popped making people put on less live events. I had no money and felt extremely depressed. I had gone from the top of the world to rock bottom. I felt worthless and nothing in my life was sticking. When did I become a loser? And then someone gave me the best advice. They told me I was hard on myself and I wanted to rush things before I was ready. And then they told me the truth. I had a long way to go as a comedian and a person before I could be ready. Then they said something that stuck with me, "Be gentle with yourself. Beat yourself with a feather instead of a hammer."
I slowly began to change my whole outlook. Each set became a learning experience. With every tank there was not a pity party at the bar or bakery but rather an evaluation of why it didn't work and what I could do differently. And when I killed it, it was what worked and what could be improved upon, because the job was never done and one could never rest on their laurels. In addition, it was writing a book. Where instead of expecting the Great American Novel on the first draft I let the first draft be sloppy and then rewrite after rewrite I improved it, and at certain points even put it away. For my vidoes, I didnt expect to be a youtube sensation right away. Rather I saw what stuck and what didnt. As for criticism, I didnt take that so personally but rather took what I needed and left the rest.
Now I am at the same juncture I was when I was twenty four. I have been on TV several times. I have a project I am pitching. I have a book and projects based off of that. People tell me I am "taking off." While it scares me that it might evaporate again, I dont think it will this time. It is because this time I am ready for it. Success is one of those things you are ready for. It is like a ham in the oven, you don't want it before it's ready to eat.
In my travels I have seen people get success out of the gate. More often than not it is not long lasting. They don't know how to do the work to sustain it and they cannot handle it. The people who are successful for the longest are the people who have the foot work behind it and as a result can keep going. The crazy thing is, all the people I used to compare myself to back in the day and I used to envy because they seemingly took off with no work are no longer around. Bottom line, you are ready when you are ready.
The past two years I have been incredibly blessed to work with a lot of talented people. When I do I don't psych myself out by telling myself I will never be as good. Rather I see what I can learn from them. There are a great many things you can learn around people who are good. And if you beat yourself with a feather you can soak in that knowledge. Also, if you beat yourself with a feather, it is easier to accept when someone is extraordinary and not to get intimidated.
Chris Rock tells a story where he was fresh off of SNL and working in Chicago and was used to the openers sucking. Well a guy named Martin Lawrence got up and killed, and for once in Chris Rock's life he had to work to follow someone. Bottom line, a feather beating helps you with moments like that. Installing humility but being able to still do the job. Yes, while you can be good there is always someone beyond awesome. Translated, always work hard, keep your head down, and be on your game.
A feather beating can also help you deal with haters. Yes, haters come with this career. Beating yourself with a hammer is feeding into their nonsense trolling. A feather tells you to take them with a grain of salt and thank them for watching.
So what I tell everyone is in your process take your time. When you are meant to be ready you will be. Beat yourself with a feather, not with a hammer.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com-paperback
Available as a Kindle and Nook ebook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
Artists especially are easily frustrated. In an industry where one must get used to rejection and poverty, there are very few spots at the top starring in motion pictures and living in Posh Beverly Hills Pads. As a result everyone is just racing like a bunch of rats for the same cheese and is in a hurry to get it. But with every piece of cheese comes a glue trap. It's the pressure to succeed, to be at the top. It's the pressure to be recognized. It's the pressure to create worthwhile work. It's the pressure to be a good artist. It is the pressure to be happy.
I remember being a young comedian in the city and just felt overwhelmed. I was grabbing for my star and it looked like it was crashing down on my head. Being daring and unique I showed a lot of promise right away. I got on television without even trying it seemed. People paid me money. I was in a pilot. I was going to be a superstar. Putting my hands under my pits like Mary Katherine Gallagher I was ready to go.
But then it didnt happen. My TV appearance yielded nothing. As for the pilot, it didnt get picked up. I had a falling out with one booker, and then the market popped making people put on less live events. I had no money and felt extremely depressed. I had gone from the top of the world to rock bottom. I felt worthless and nothing in my life was sticking. When did I become a loser? And then someone gave me the best advice. They told me I was hard on myself and I wanted to rush things before I was ready. And then they told me the truth. I had a long way to go as a comedian and a person before I could be ready. Then they said something that stuck with me, "Be gentle with yourself. Beat yourself with a feather instead of a hammer."
I slowly began to change my whole outlook. Each set became a learning experience. With every tank there was not a pity party at the bar or bakery but rather an evaluation of why it didn't work and what I could do differently. And when I killed it, it was what worked and what could be improved upon, because the job was never done and one could never rest on their laurels. In addition, it was writing a book. Where instead of expecting the Great American Novel on the first draft I let the first draft be sloppy and then rewrite after rewrite I improved it, and at certain points even put it away. For my vidoes, I didnt expect to be a youtube sensation right away. Rather I saw what stuck and what didnt. As for criticism, I didnt take that so personally but rather took what I needed and left the rest.
Now I am at the same juncture I was when I was twenty four. I have been on TV several times. I have a project I am pitching. I have a book and projects based off of that. People tell me I am "taking off." While it scares me that it might evaporate again, I dont think it will this time. It is because this time I am ready for it. Success is one of those things you are ready for. It is like a ham in the oven, you don't want it before it's ready to eat.
In my travels I have seen people get success out of the gate. More often than not it is not long lasting. They don't know how to do the work to sustain it and they cannot handle it. The people who are successful for the longest are the people who have the foot work behind it and as a result can keep going. The crazy thing is, all the people I used to compare myself to back in the day and I used to envy because they seemingly took off with no work are no longer around. Bottom line, you are ready when you are ready.
The past two years I have been incredibly blessed to work with a lot of talented people. When I do I don't psych myself out by telling myself I will never be as good. Rather I see what I can learn from them. There are a great many things you can learn around people who are good. And if you beat yourself with a feather you can soak in that knowledge. Also, if you beat yourself with a feather, it is easier to accept when someone is extraordinary and not to get intimidated.
Chris Rock tells a story where he was fresh off of SNL and working in Chicago and was used to the openers sucking. Well a guy named Martin Lawrence got up and killed, and for once in Chris Rock's life he had to work to follow someone. Bottom line, a feather beating helps you with moments like that. Installing humility but being able to still do the job. Yes, while you can be good there is always someone beyond awesome. Translated, always work hard, keep your head down, and be on your game.
A feather beating can also help you deal with haters. Yes, haters come with this career. Beating yourself with a hammer is feeding into their nonsense trolling. A feather tells you to take them with a grain of salt and thank them for watching.
So what I tell everyone is in your process take your time. When you are meant to be ready you will be. Beat yourself with a feather, not with a hammer.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com-paperback
Available as a Kindle and Nook ebook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
January 26, 2013
The Mr. Ripley Complex
For years I have lived in NYC. It is a fast paced, wonderful mecca where anything can happen. However, it is also a place where people can be who they want to me. I wanted to be a ventriloquist, comedian, actress, singer and writer. My quest has been somewhat successful. I perform in the clubs, I have been Off-Broadway, my music has been on the radio, and I published my own book. Some people are ordinary and want to be extraordinary. There are two ways to go about this. One, develop a skill or talent and become good at it. Two, make up an identity that is so fabulous and put in all your energy to being a brilliant bullshit artist. Some people go with the second option.
I remember my first exposure to a Mr. Ripley was one year at the Heisman's. It was the year Troy Smith won. A man showed up, nice looking young African American with diamond studs in his ears. He told everyone he was Reggie Bush. Reggie had won the year before and was playing pro. Maybe he was swooping in as a former winner to say hello. That did happen from time to time. Anyway, he looked like Reggie, just maybe a little taller and less stockier. Reggie is very sweet and quiet in person. This dude on the other hand was introducing himself as Reggie Bush and people were buying into it. He was taking photos etc. At the end of the night he disappeared and my mother and father concurred it was not Reggie but some poser. We never found out who the poser was. But I just remember thinking something wasnt right.
There are some who impersonate celebrities, and others who claim to be related. One wannabe I met on my journey claimed to be related to Angie Harmon from Law and Order. They looked nothing alike but people believed her. The young woman was a reasonably talented actress and a wonderful singer but had a lot of mental problems, a severe eating disorder being one. She eventually disappeared to LA where she was never heard from again. I met people who knew her later and said the young woman was prone to lying and this was yet another yarn she spun. Another young woman I went to a summer workshop with claimed she used to party with Spenser Pratt from the Hills and it was because she was related to Heidi Montag by marriage. This chick claimed to go to parties and know people and blah, blah, blah. Well one of her stories fell apart one evening when the actual cousin of Heidi Montag showed up. Interesting and shit show were the understatements of the year.
There are some who have a fabulous career, and others who just make it up. A few summers ago I was working on a project with the former dance captain of Cats on Broadway. This kid was trying to worm our way into our circle. He claimed to be a former child star appearing on such programs as Sesame Street and even going so far as to claim he was in Up With People and Chunk in Goonies. I was at a party where he told a room full of people they were gossiping about him on TMZ and he was afraid for his life. Well it turned out the dude was homeless and had issues with drugs and alcohol. He was quickly persona non grata in our circle. But there were some people that he really had going. They believed him hook, line and sinker.
Then there are some who lead a mundane life that want so badly to be exciting. I dated a lawyer briefly who was bright but wanted to shine like a star. So he would tell tall tales about how he knew celebrities, rubbed elbows with the rich and famous, and even went so far as to make up a boxing and music career. I remember once he met my mother and told her flat out about how he almost made the Olympics for boxing but got hurt at the last second. My jaw dropped open at this obvious lie. The relationship soured because I never knew what was true and what wasnt. As he rubbed elbows with these trust fund kids, he would try to keep up which was sad and pathetic and I got tired of seeing a liar in action. We broke up and he found himself on the rocks with debtors because he lied about not having money to pay his bills, and he had champagne taste on a beer budget. And also on the rocks at his job. Well suddenly he had "cancer," and everyone felt bad for him. I had my doubts about this story. Well the cancer was gone in three weeks as fake cancer typically is. About a year later, my story with my puppet children aired on TLC and I spoke about my former fiance. This dillweed told everyone in his circle he was the former fiance which made his current girlfriend, a drug addict who is sober for an hour a day max, go on the war path of sorts against me. Needless to say I blocked them all online.
But the one who takes the cake is the kid who pretended to be the son of the North Korean diplomat. He showed up to swanky eateries with his posse and answered any and all questions about Kim Jong Ill. He had photos of himself with atomic weapons and he seemed legit. He spoke about his country proudly and even said he hoped to introduce the idea of democracy to his people. I was swayed by the man and found myself wishing he didnt have a gal pal. Well it turns out that he was LYING. He was really from the Midwest. His parents were immigrants, yes. But he was no diplomats kid. They came from modest means and stuff. He had everyone fooled. The ugly curtains came down after one evening, a former friend of mine called him who knew him better than I did. He was no where to be found, left town, and turns out had a record as a scam artist. This man had all of us bought and sold. It was beyond terrible. We had all liked the diplomats kid and I often wondered who offered to spot me dinner in that swanky place that night. Maybe I will never know.
I guess in my travels I have met and worked with a great many celebrities. Many want desperately to be seen as normal and down to Earth, and when speaking to them in conversation tend to drive the focus away from their stardom rather to. And those who talk about how famous they are, well they are not really all that famous at all but rather wannabes. Even children of celebrities dont want to focus on their famous parents. I went to school with the daughter of a famous director who was very sweet, very down to Earth, and never dropped her father's name once. While we all knew, she didnt want it to be the pinnacle of our friendship. Still, some people very much want to be a part of that world.
Why not just become good at something that gets you recognized? A therapist friend of mine called it negative attention seeking. Basically, it is when someone wants attention and adoration but childhood trauma and low self esteem leave them feeling they have no skills or talents. But their desire to be the center of attention either causes them to make excessive drama or to fabricate a life that is so unbelievable that people can't help but look. Or maybe it is that reality for them has been so torturous and unbearable that they must create a fantasy world where they can be who they want. I know this was in fact the case with the woman who claimed relation to Angie Harmon, the druggie who claimed to be Chunk in Goonies, and my ex.
Or maybe it was a childhood where they had nothing and there was a lot of lying and they want to be extraordinary. Who knows? That is why we have Clarke Rockefellers. They lie and are just that good at it.
Liars make me giggle sometimes because they are so obvious. But they also make me sad. Not only because they hurt so many people in the aftermath, but they don't believe that their truth-which is themselves- are good enough to begin with.
They inspire me to be rigorously honest.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
I remember my first exposure to a Mr. Ripley was one year at the Heisman's. It was the year Troy Smith won. A man showed up, nice looking young African American with diamond studs in his ears. He told everyone he was Reggie Bush. Reggie had won the year before and was playing pro. Maybe he was swooping in as a former winner to say hello. That did happen from time to time. Anyway, he looked like Reggie, just maybe a little taller and less stockier. Reggie is very sweet and quiet in person. This dude on the other hand was introducing himself as Reggie Bush and people were buying into it. He was taking photos etc. At the end of the night he disappeared and my mother and father concurred it was not Reggie but some poser. We never found out who the poser was. But I just remember thinking something wasnt right.
There are some who impersonate celebrities, and others who claim to be related. One wannabe I met on my journey claimed to be related to Angie Harmon from Law and Order. They looked nothing alike but people believed her. The young woman was a reasonably talented actress and a wonderful singer but had a lot of mental problems, a severe eating disorder being one. She eventually disappeared to LA where she was never heard from again. I met people who knew her later and said the young woman was prone to lying and this was yet another yarn she spun. Another young woman I went to a summer workshop with claimed she used to party with Spenser Pratt from the Hills and it was because she was related to Heidi Montag by marriage. This chick claimed to go to parties and know people and blah, blah, blah. Well one of her stories fell apart one evening when the actual cousin of Heidi Montag showed up. Interesting and shit show were the understatements of the year.
There are some who have a fabulous career, and others who just make it up. A few summers ago I was working on a project with the former dance captain of Cats on Broadway. This kid was trying to worm our way into our circle. He claimed to be a former child star appearing on such programs as Sesame Street and even going so far as to claim he was in Up With People and Chunk in Goonies. I was at a party where he told a room full of people they were gossiping about him on TMZ and he was afraid for his life. Well it turned out the dude was homeless and had issues with drugs and alcohol. He was quickly persona non grata in our circle. But there were some people that he really had going. They believed him hook, line and sinker.
Then there are some who lead a mundane life that want so badly to be exciting. I dated a lawyer briefly who was bright but wanted to shine like a star. So he would tell tall tales about how he knew celebrities, rubbed elbows with the rich and famous, and even went so far as to make up a boxing and music career. I remember once he met my mother and told her flat out about how he almost made the Olympics for boxing but got hurt at the last second. My jaw dropped open at this obvious lie. The relationship soured because I never knew what was true and what wasnt. As he rubbed elbows with these trust fund kids, he would try to keep up which was sad and pathetic and I got tired of seeing a liar in action. We broke up and he found himself on the rocks with debtors because he lied about not having money to pay his bills, and he had champagne taste on a beer budget. And also on the rocks at his job. Well suddenly he had "cancer," and everyone felt bad for him. I had my doubts about this story. Well the cancer was gone in three weeks as fake cancer typically is. About a year later, my story with my puppet children aired on TLC and I spoke about my former fiance. This dillweed told everyone in his circle he was the former fiance which made his current girlfriend, a drug addict who is sober for an hour a day max, go on the war path of sorts against me. Needless to say I blocked them all online.
But the one who takes the cake is the kid who pretended to be the son of the North Korean diplomat. He showed up to swanky eateries with his posse and answered any and all questions about Kim Jong Ill. He had photos of himself with atomic weapons and he seemed legit. He spoke about his country proudly and even said he hoped to introduce the idea of democracy to his people. I was swayed by the man and found myself wishing he didnt have a gal pal. Well it turns out that he was LYING. He was really from the Midwest. His parents were immigrants, yes. But he was no diplomats kid. They came from modest means and stuff. He had everyone fooled. The ugly curtains came down after one evening, a former friend of mine called him who knew him better than I did. He was no where to be found, left town, and turns out had a record as a scam artist. This man had all of us bought and sold. It was beyond terrible. We had all liked the diplomats kid and I often wondered who offered to spot me dinner in that swanky place that night. Maybe I will never know.
I guess in my travels I have met and worked with a great many celebrities. Many want desperately to be seen as normal and down to Earth, and when speaking to them in conversation tend to drive the focus away from their stardom rather to. And those who talk about how famous they are, well they are not really all that famous at all but rather wannabes. Even children of celebrities dont want to focus on their famous parents. I went to school with the daughter of a famous director who was very sweet, very down to Earth, and never dropped her father's name once. While we all knew, she didnt want it to be the pinnacle of our friendship. Still, some people very much want to be a part of that world.
Why not just become good at something that gets you recognized? A therapist friend of mine called it negative attention seeking. Basically, it is when someone wants attention and adoration but childhood trauma and low self esteem leave them feeling they have no skills or talents. But their desire to be the center of attention either causes them to make excessive drama or to fabricate a life that is so unbelievable that people can't help but look. Or maybe it is that reality for them has been so torturous and unbearable that they must create a fantasy world where they can be who they want. I know this was in fact the case with the woman who claimed relation to Angie Harmon, the druggie who claimed to be Chunk in Goonies, and my ex.
Or maybe it was a childhood where they had nothing and there was a lot of lying and they want to be extraordinary. Who knows? That is why we have Clarke Rockefellers. They lie and are just that good at it.
Liars make me giggle sometimes because they are so obvious. But they also make me sad. Not only because they hurt so many people in the aftermath, but they don't believe that their truth-which is themselves- are good enough to begin with.
They inspire me to be rigorously honest.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.buybooksontheweb.com
877-Buy-Book
Available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
January 25, 2013
Grave Cave Cold
It is deathly cold outside and I hate it. There is no way to walk three feet without risking frost bite even with gloves. This is Artic, so Artic that I see a penguin running around. Oops a Penguin would be happy. This cold is not happy. It is depressing and awful. I hate the month of January as a rule. Nothing goes on, there is nothing to do, and most of all, my industry comes to a slow. I am doing lots of other things but the cold just takes the energy out of my bones.
I am getting sick-ear ache-and getting depressed.
I always get depressed when I get sick. I have been delivering some telegrams and such. Book sales are okay. Still, I am ready for the next thing. Getting my book on tape done. But when I sit around and am all by myself sick I start to get this feeling of being nothing and going no where. I know rationally I am not true. But I am sick, tired, broke, and my ears hurt. Towards February things get better. I already have two radio appearances booked for February. I have two shows booked for March-both want me to push my book. A film I was in had a successful screening. Not to mention we are screening another film I am in.
I have been eating a lot of chicken soup and drinking a lot of tea which means I always have to piss like a race horse. I have been spending a lot of time in my pajamas which means I feel less than sexy. Not to mention I have been watching lots of movies on youtube with steamy sex scenes. I look at all these beautiful people and say, “Why can’t my love life be like that?” They have sex and break dishes and stuff.
May Wilson’s love life is like that.
Shanniqua Parker killed her boyfriend who sexed her like that.
Sonny Jones pretends his love life is like that.
Officer E just arrests random men and takes them to the bath house.
I know it will get better, that this will pass. But today I have a Marilyn Monroe, then I have some chicken soup to have, and after that I have a phone date with my mommy for my latest project, and then bed time.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book for paperback
Available as an ebook on Amazon and Nook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
January 24, 2013
Jesus in My Underwear Drawer
I don't know what it is about people but as soon as they find Jesus they go ape shit. It's not like it is ever a good thing when they find him. Actually those like me who were born going to church have more of a whatever attitude. I love God and I consider myself more spiritual than religious. I leave room for all beliefs no matter how crazy. Heck, I was raised in a faith that taught a man was born from a chick who was a virgin and no sexual contact took place-but an angel told her she was embarking on the most spiritual-and probably painful when you think about it-event of her life. This is not medically possible but there have been millions of people killed over this. Fo' McSerious.
A former friend of mine from back in the day has recently found Jesus. She has joined this whacky church where they go seven days a week and stuff. I mean, already that is a big, red light. Anyway, she posts about going and all the things the pastor says. He says some things that are on point. But then it's the fact they are so obsessed is a big red light. These days my buddy is ending all of her sentences in an exclamation point. That is another sign of just nuts. Not to mention she used to be all Democrat and even joined Amnesty International with us when we were in high school. Now she takes her vitamins with her daily dose of Fox News. It's one thing to lean a little to the right, it's another just to be crazy. My buddy is just crazy.
A girl I went to high school with who was a bit of a wild child and her mom used to show up to places bra less and was cool has now become a Jesus freak. She preaches to anyone who will listen. She has even gone so far as to open up a Jesus Cafe. Would it be appropriate to ask for Devil Food Cake? Or better yet, should I tell her Jesus was a Jew?
A little fan girl of mine went and joined a crazy church. She was a good kid and I liked her. But then she started to change and once I posted gay people deserved rights and she said that Jesus didnt want us comfortable in our sin and blah blah blah. I was like, "This is not you." Needless to say she stopped following me. Someone who is that militant is never happy. That is all there is to it.
I had a former puppet maker of mine go Jesus Freaky on me. She announced she would not contribute any more to my act. Apparently she didnt find my so called "irreverence" funny. Whatever. Meanwhile I had sent this nut job my mother, my sister, and several of her friends. Jesus may have watched over her, but I kept her business going for a little bit even when her level of production was unpredictable and she didnt follow directions because it was against God's will. My belief is that she suffers from bi-polar disorder, because I have encountered her in the midst of severe mood swings and all. I do believe that she is one of those people who is holding on to God because she holds on by a thread.
That's what irks me most about Christianity. A lot of people who are overzealous adherents are in fact holding on by a thread. It's one thing to love God, it's another thing to just be nuts. I dated a guy a few years ago who's mother claimed she had a direct link to God. I had been engaged to a complete psycho-an atheist by the way-when I met George Washington. Unlike his counterpart who couldnt tell a lie George could never tell the truth. Anyway, his mother wrote me several letters a week starting with the phrase, "God told me to write to you" and boasted of how God talked to her. Each would wrap up with how her son was my soul mate. Needless to say her boy was not my soul mate. And when we broke up this lady began trashing me to anyone who would listen. I found her a few weeks ago trashing me. I was like Liz, what would Jesus do.
My mom is currently being bullied by some mouth breathing mega-church goers she made the mistake of doing business with. I told her this: The Man they used to own is now running their country. The people their book says are going to hell are not only getting rights, but now they going to be forced under the law to marry them in their churches. And you have several degrees so you are't making babies. Not to mention they want to teach Creationism-a story where God was bored one day, created a man, and then created a woman. They decry evolution despite the fact there is fossil evidence to back it up. And Creationism is just a story and does not even begin to explain the dinosaurs. These morons want it to be taught alongside Chemistry and Biology.
Sigh, I just found Jesus in my underwear drawer. God does he like Victoria's Secret.
Actually, that's a lie. The NRA loves God and guns and accidentally shot him as an intruder. I mean, that long hair and robe is kind of off putting.
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
Portion of the Proceeds go to RAINN
A former friend of mine from back in the day has recently found Jesus. She has joined this whacky church where they go seven days a week and stuff. I mean, already that is a big, red light. Anyway, she posts about going and all the things the pastor says. He says some things that are on point. But then it's the fact they are so obsessed is a big red light. These days my buddy is ending all of her sentences in an exclamation point. That is another sign of just nuts. Not to mention she used to be all Democrat and even joined Amnesty International with us when we were in high school. Now she takes her vitamins with her daily dose of Fox News. It's one thing to lean a little to the right, it's another just to be crazy. My buddy is just crazy.
A girl I went to high school with who was a bit of a wild child and her mom used to show up to places bra less and was cool has now become a Jesus freak. She preaches to anyone who will listen. She has even gone so far as to open up a Jesus Cafe. Would it be appropriate to ask for Devil Food Cake? Or better yet, should I tell her Jesus was a Jew?
A little fan girl of mine went and joined a crazy church. She was a good kid and I liked her. But then she started to change and once I posted gay people deserved rights and she said that Jesus didnt want us comfortable in our sin and blah blah blah. I was like, "This is not you." Needless to say she stopped following me. Someone who is that militant is never happy. That is all there is to it.
I had a former puppet maker of mine go Jesus Freaky on me. She announced she would not contribute any more to my act. Apparently she didnt find my so called "irreverence" funny. Whatever. Meanwhile I had sent this nut job my mother, my sister, and several of her friends. Jesus may have watched over her, but I kept her business going for a little bit even when her level of production was unpredictable and she didnt follow directions because it was against God's will. My belief is that she suffers from bi-polar disorder, because I have encountered her in the midst of severe mood swings and all. I do believe that she is one of those people who is holding on to God because she holds on by a thread.
That's what irks me most about Christianity. A lot of people who are overzealous adherents are in fact holding on by a thread. It's one thing to love God, it's another thing to just be nuts. I dated a guy a few years ago who's mother claimed she had a direct link to God. I had been engaged to a complete psycho-an atheist by the way-when I met George Washington. Unlike his counterpart who couldnt tell a lie George could never tell the truth. Anyway, his mother wrote me several letters a week starting with the phrase, "God told me to write to you" and boasted of how God talked to her. Each would wrap up with how her son was my soul mate. Needless to say her boy was not my soul mate. And when we broke up this lady began trashing me to anyone who would listen. I found her a few weeks ago trashing me. I was like Liz, what would Jesus do.
My mom is currently being bullied by some mouth breathing mega-church goers she made the mistake of doing business with. I told her this: The Man they used to own is now running their country. The people their book says are going to hell are not only getting rights, but now they going to be forced under the law to marry them in their churches. And you have several degrees so you are't making babies. Not to mention they want to teach Creationism-a story where God was bored one day, created a man, and then created a woman. They decry evolution despite the fact there is fossil evidence to back it up. And Creationism is just a story and does not even begin to explain the dinosaurs. These morons want it to be taught alongside Chemistry and Biology.
Sigh, I just found Jesus in my underwear drawer. God does he like Victoria's Secret.
Actually, that's a lie. The NRA loves God and guns and accidentally shot him as an intruder. I mean, that long hair and robe is kind of off putting.
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
Portion of the Proceeds go to RAINN
January 23, 2013
UnChained Melody (Righteous Brothers)
I want to start by saying I am not what they call a good singer. Although life has a way of making me sing. In drama camp as a kid I just wanted to act but they forced me to sing. I grinned and beared it and eventually it was my favorite class. In high school I auditioned for The Wizard of Oz and ended up getting the lead as the Witch, only to find out I had to sing. I ended up really having a great time and loved the chorus teacher. I was around some kids with great voices. Although I was not one I appreciated what they went through. College I was mandated to sing as a part of my studio training. I loved my teacher actually. Class was fun and I really learned a lot about the science behind my voice. I never thought I would use it like I did though. Because after college we all know how I supported my career, singing telegrams!Although I sang daily I never called myself a singer. My bosses assistants have incredible voices. Delta has an amazing range, and Jeanie sings big band which means she has a belt and a half. Over time though, I have learned to work with what I have. Despite the fact I speak like a cartoon character I sing like a man. My voice is low and smoky. Over time, despite my lack of natural vocal ability, I have learned I have two things in my favor. One, the three notes in my range, when I hit them I am not only on pitch but sound amazing. Second, I can take a song and make it my own, good or bad. Either way, it is unique. And when you think of it, most good singers don’t have what they call good voices. They have unique sounds. Billie Holiday breaks every rule there is, either by being off the music or by singing directly from her throat. Rod Stewart, well I love the man but same thing. Most rock singers too. Ethel Merman, she was on her throat a lot. Wowsa.The other night cause I was bored I decided to have a little fun with Unchained Melody. I did it because why not? I love the song. At first I was afraid to touch it because well, it’s legendary. But then I got bored and figured why not?My head voice is isn’t there at all, but I have made it my own. It is unique. It is awesome. It is awesomely bad. It is an original interpretive performance. It is letting my fans know that they shouldn’t be afraid to try anything, even if they get a thousand tomatoes thrown at them. It is mine. Click here to see me role http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfKOuiDC_R0&list=UU1XhN3fj2pUzvXj7UX-heng&index=1LoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl877-Buy-Book/www.buybooksontheweb.com for paperbackAvailable as an ebook on Kindle and NookPortion of Proceeds go to RAINN
January 21, 2013
Someone Like You (Adele)
I have been having morbid cold weather curosity and faintly remembered that crap killed the cat. Sure the cat killed Tweetie but this crap ultimately made Sylvester a pladder at the Asian eatery up the road in the rural hick town. It is all true. It really is.
I have been looking up old boyfriends and the women they are either dating or married to. Not because I really care or it would do me any good. Just because a part of me wants to know, where are they now?
One is married. He has a kid and seems happy. I still remember how much I care about him. Seeing him happy made me happy because I have let him go. The other part of me sort of resented him because I really loved him and he sort of strung me along. He had all sorts of excuses why he couldn't be my boyfriend and blah blah blah but the second I moved on would appear like a phantom over the horizon. He broke my heart really bad. But he was right, I wasn't ready for a relationship. My encounters with him are always weird. In part he feels like he was responsible for my meeting my fiance and that disaster. The ego in me feels maybe he regrets marrying his wife. My group of friends confided in me that despite this issues I was his number one and she knew it. That's why she hates me so much. But they seem well suited for each other and have another kid on the way. She is more laid back while he is outgoing just like me. We would have killed each other.
Then someone I dated on the rebound is engaged. He was more in love with himself than anyone else. Still I could picture him in front of the mirror saying to himself flexing his muscles, "We ought to stop meeting like this. People will start to talk."
Another guy I dated on the rebound from my fiance is in a relationship. He was a bit of a party animal when I knew him and spent six hundred bucks on me in the course of a night. They said he was a ladies man. My fiance never spent a dime on me, and I would always pay his way. This dude treated me like a lady and now he has a lady. I dont mind it. We just had some fun. But still, how time changes and how things get crazy.
Then of course there was one guy I was mean to. It's a long story. He was so nice to me and I had been through a hell of a lot. The second he was kind to me I just kicked him in the face. I know I did. But my ex fiance was stalking me at the time and I wanted saved. Now he hates my guts and posts about it when he can and so does his current girlfriend when she isnt trying to be me in a way. I say I hate them all in one breath but in the other I feel guilty I used to make him cry. In one breath I say if I can make you cry you werent a man, but in the other I know I was just that much of a bitch.
After him I looked up some guys I wasn't so nice to because I was into bad boys. They have girlfriends, are married, have kids. It's all too late.
I know my guy problems are my doing. Sometimes I am smart, too smart and just have to be right. Then there are those times where I just want to be liked that badly. Of course I am pretty much damaged from all the morons I dated and don't trust anyone which is a problem. Plus my career and puppets come first and then family and somewhere to the bottom of the list is my man. Faithful, ha. I get bored. Why can't I just have an open relationship? May Wilson suggested that.
All my ex boyfriends say I am a drama queen with issues. Maybe I am. They hate me and I hate them. We are even. At least I am consistent that way.
However, there will come a time that perhaps I will want the happily ever after and the person who loves me for me and all that happy horse shit. There is a part of me that is so used to men failing me and so used to being alone that I don't care. But then there is a part of me that is afraid to be alone forever.
There are a thousand factors as to why I screw up the way I do. I could blame the psychotic ex fiance who used to hit me and stalk me but I think it was even before then. I could blame the gnawing insecurity called being a fat girl. I could blame May Wilson, she is stealing all my friends on facebook.
Maybe I'll get a prison pen pal. That way me and Mr. Convict can run off into the sunset making him a fugitive. I have fallen for a fugitive before. I can make it work. I tried it before and it failed but I learned how to make it better. Instead of a carriage ride we will have a high speed chase. God this is a fucked up fairy tale.
Disney you have corrupted my mind. Walt Disney is a racist, anti-Semite and probable homophobe.
Happy New Year!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
I have been looking up old boyfriends and the women they are either dating or married to. Not because I really care or it would do me any good. Just because a part of me wants to know, where are they now?
One is married. He has a kid and seems happy. I still remember how much I care about him. Seeing him happy made me happy because I have let him go. The other part of me sort of resented him because I really loved him and he sort of strung me along. He had all sorts of excuses why he couldn't be my boyfriend and blah blah blah but the second I moved on would appear like a phantom over the horizon. He broke my heart really bad. But he was right, I wasn't ready for a relationship. My encounters with him are always weird. In part he feels like he was responsible for my meeting my fiance and that disaster. The ego in me feels maybe he regrets marrying his wife. My group of friends confided in me that despite this issues I was his number one and she knew it. That's why she hates me so much. But they seem well suited for each other and have another kid on the way. She is more laid back while he is outgoing just like me. We would have killed each other.
Then someone I dated on the rebound is engaged. He was more in love with himself than anyone else. Still I could picture him in front of the mirror saying to himself flexing his muscles, "We ought to stop meeting like this. People will start to talk."
Another guy I dated on the rebound from my fiance is in a relationship. He was a bit of a party animal when I knew him and spent six hundred bucks on me in the course of a night. They said he was a ladies man. My fiance never spent a dime on me, and I would always pay his way. This dude treated me like a lady and now he has a lady. I dont mind it. We just had some fun. But still, how time changes and how things get crazy.
Then of course there was one guy I was mean to. It's a long story. He was so nice to me and I had been through a hell of a lot. The second he was kind to me I just kicked him in the face. I know I did. But my ex fiance was stalking me at the time and I wanted saved. Now he hates my guts and posts about it when he can and so does his current girlfriend when she isnt trying to be me in a way. I say I hate them all in one breath but in the other I feel guilty I used to make him cry. In one breath I say if I can make you cry you werent a man, but in the other I know I was just that much of a bitch.
After him I looked up some guys I wasn't so nice to because I was into bad boys. They have girlfriends, are married, have kids. It's all too late.
I know my guy problems are my doing. Sometimes I am smart, too smart and just have to be right. Then there are those times where I just want to be liked that badly. Of course I am pretty much damaged from all the morons I dated and don't trust anyone which is a problem. Plus my career and puppets come first and then family and somewhere to the bottom of the list is my man. Faithful, ha. I get bored. Why can't I just have an open relationship? May Wilson suggested that.
All my ex boyfriends say I am a drama queen with issues. Maybe I am. They hate me and I hate them. We are even. At least I am consistent that way.
However, there will come a time that perhaps I will want the happily ever after and the person who loves me for me and all that happy horse shit. There is a part of me that is so used to men failing me and so used to being alone that I don't care. But then there is a part of me that is afraid to be alone forever.
There are a thousand factors as to why I screw up the way I do. I could blame the psychotic ex fiance who used to hit me and stalk me but I think it was even before then. I could blame the gnawing insecurity called being a fat girl. I could blame May Wilson, she is stealing all my friends on facebook.
Maybe I'll get a prison pen pal. That way me and Mr. Convict can run off into the sunset making him a fugitive. I have fallen for a fugitive before. I can make it work. I tried it before and it failed but I learned how to make it better. Instead of a carriage ride we will have a high speed chase. God this is a fucked up fairy tale.
Disney you have corrupted my mind. Walt Disney is a racist, anti-Semite and probable homophobe.
Happy New Year!
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Kindle and Nook
Portion of Proceeds go to RAINN
January 18, 2013
Lance Armstrong-My Opinion
I was watching the Lance Armstrong interview last night and wow. First off we all know he was lying through his teeth. Now that we are passed that lets get to the point. Who the hell told him it was a good idea to walk into the Big Black Lion's Den called Oprah Winfrey. Yes, he is facing sanction and action and blah blah blah and now he is getting his ass kicked by a black woman. Overall, life sucks for Lance Armstrong.
But that is just the tip if the iceberg. What happened last night was a witch hunt. Lots of pro-athletes use performance enhancing drugs. It's not because they want to. It's because professional sports are so intense that they have to. These are guys who's body and strength is their ticket. Their competition is the biggest and the fastest. If they don't they get hurt which means that their career is over and they are screwed. For a lot of these guys pro sports is their ticket out of a rough life and a rough childhood, and they aren't just supporting themselves with that big house, but have a slew of loser relatives on the payroll.
As we continue this witch hunt why don't we we go after every athlete there is at the top level? Maybe it isn't fair, but when you get paid millions of dollars you need to produce, end of story. And these people were the top one percent sports wise and are just getting that umph. Let's witch hunt the Super Bowl winning Steelers in the 1970s and 1980s, those guys were all jacked. Why don't we take the Mr. Universe title away from The Governator? Do you think for a second he got that bulked up on his own?
Oh and while we are at it lets go after every athlete from the former Soviet Union and the East Germans, especially their women. I don't care how often a woman lifts and throws the shot put. She does not balk that way on her own. Feminists shoot me now but women have more body fat and it is the help of testerone. But they won the Gold. Why don't we take that away from people plucked from their homes and trained to death so that mom and dad could have a house in their cow village?
And while we are on the war path, why don't we go after the Russians and Chinese who put their gymnasts on special diets and puberty delaying drugs. American gymnasts are fatter and have more womanly bodies because they are not on drugs. While they out performed the competition this games, most of the time they don't have the difficulty because their bodies are more natually mature. So lets take away the metals those poor little girls robbed of their childhood have earned.
As for the blood doping, that is just straight up bull shit. You aren't even using someone else's blood. You are using your own. Should you be penalized for using your own blood? That's like being penalized for using your own body. Oops, you are using your own body.
I even spoke to a pro body builder who informed me, "No one at the pro level competes clean. You can't or you get decimated."
In this world we have problems like child abuse, world hunger, and we still have not found a cure for AIDS. Yes, Lance technically cheated, but everyone else did. And he beat out ninety nine percent of the riders all using performance enhancement that were all pretty good. He's a good cyclist, and he raised a lot of money for cancer research. More than anyone, and has bought awareness to it. While the enhancements he took could be blamed for his cancer, it's more genetics and the luck of the draw. During the AIDs crisis while many died some behaved the same way and did not get sick because their family had survived a plague along the way and are immune to HIV. Point being, genetics is weird, it's not all behavior.
To me, anyone who makes their career as a pro athlete has my respect because of the dedication and determination it takes. It's almost like being a comedian, except I get hit metaphorically not physically. They need to do what they need to do to stay ahead.
Now let's get back to giving gay people the right to marry and fixing the ecomony rather than inditing people like Roger Clemmens, seriously.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon on Kindle
Available on Barnes and Noble.com on Nook
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
But that is just the tip if the iceberg. What happened last night was a witch hunt. Lots of pro-athletes use performance enhancing drugs. It's not because they want to. It's because professional sports are so intense that they have to. These are guys who's body and strength is their ticket. Their competition is the biggest and the fastest. If they don't they get hurt which means that their career is over and they are screwed. For a lot of these guys pro sports is their ticket out of a rough life and a rough childhood, and they aren't just supporting themselves with that big house, but have a slew of loser relatives on the payroll.
As we continue this witch hunt why don't we we go after every athlete there is at the top level? Maybe it isn't fair, but when you get paid millions of dollars you need to produce, end of story. And these people were the top one percent sports wise and are just getting that umph. Let's witch hunt the Super Bowl winning Steelers in the 1970s and 1980s, those guys were all jacked. Why don't we take the Mr. Universe title away from The Governator? Do you think for a second he got that bulked up on his own?
Oh and while we are at it lets go after every athlete from the former Soviet Union and the East Germans, especially their women. I don't care how often a woman lifts and throws the shot put. She does not balk that way on her own. Feminists shoot me now but women have more body fat and it is the help of testerone. But they won the Gold. Why don't we take that away from people plucked from their homes and trained to death so that mom and dad could have a house in their cow village?
And while we are on the war path, why don't we go after the Russians and Chinese who put their gymnasts on special diets and puberty delaying drugs. American gymnasts are fatter and have more womanly bodies because they are not on drugs. While they out performed the competition this games, most of the time they don't have the difficulty because their bodies are more natually mature. So lets take away the metals those poor little girls robbed of their childhood have earned.
As for the blood doping, that is just straight up bull shit. You aren't even using someone else's blood. You are using your own. Should you be penalized for using your own blood? That's like being penalized for using your own body. Oops, you are using your own body.
I even spoke to a pro body builder who informed me, "No one at the pro level competes clean. You can't or you get decimated."
In this world we have problems like child abuse, world hunger, and we still have not found a cure for AIDS. Yes, Lance technically cheated, but everyone else did. And he beat out ninety nine percent of the riders all using performance enhancement that were all pretty good. He's a good cyclist, and he raised a lot of money for cancer research. More than anyone, and has bought awareness to it. While the enhancements he took could be blamed for his cancer, it's more genetics and the luck of the draw. During the AIDs crisis while many died some behaved the same way and did not get sick because their family had survived a plague along the way and are immune to HIV. Point being, genetics is weird, it's not all behavior.
To me, anyone who makes their career as a pro athlete has my respect because of the dedication and determination it takes. It's almost like being a comedian, except I get hit metaphorically not physically. They need to do what they need to do to stay ahead.
Now let's get back to giving gay people the right to marry and fixing the ecomony rather than inditing people like Roger Clemmens, seriously.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon on Kindle
Available on Barnes and Noble.com on Nook
Portion of the proceeds go to RAINN
January 16, 2013
Rainy Day Reflections
It is cold and rainy in New York City which means the snow is on it's way. I have made a bad habit of sleeping in. Partially because January is slow for my job. Partially because since Jan is slow for my job I have been filling the calender with other projects which make me tired. Partially because maybe I am getting sick. Partially because this time of year is so Goddamn depressing.
The other day-which was nicer by the way-I was walking along and saw RC Smith who used to open for Rachael Ray. I remember how kind he was to me when I was a fledgling with no clue. I am no longer a fledgling, but I still have no clue. It's amazing how very little changes. After that I saw my piano player Paul from my Strasberg days. I liked singing with Jan Douglas and the studio itself because I felt so safe in my acting classes. Everyone was so cool and my teachers were wonderful. For the first time in a long time I found myself wanting to go back to acting class.
After graduating NYU and taking a large number of acting classes I sort of felt burned out. I am not the type of person who lives in theory well at all. More or less, I learn by actually being Daniel in the Lion's den or baptized by fire. That's why I took to comedy the way I did. Plus I knew despite all my Checkov and Shakespeare and all the other things in my bag of tricks my claim to fame would be April being April. I knew my puppets would be my ticket as well as my ability to make people laugh and my ability to be myself and create my own work would open the door.
As well as writing self-important blogs where I have my dreams and you don't like a Peter Pan with run on sentences. They said something to that effect about me on Gawker.
I tried going back to acting class a few years ago with a private teacher who had trained with Lee Strasberg and didnt like the guy. But the guy was just an old bitter actor and a dirty old man who wanted to talk about sex more than he wanted me to read my pieces. Needless to say I stopped going after he asked me if I wanted to be photographed naked. It was no problem. Comedy was more my thing and I was on the road every weekend there was anyway, and part of a weekly show at an A-List club. There was no Shakespeare in the Park in my future.
I find myself wanting to act again. I made a movie a year and a half ago where I was a lead and one where I was supporting and I find myself wanting to do that more. I am also writing a Broadway musical. I also find myself missing acting, and the structure and freedom technique gave me. There are acting classes everywhere and some are pretty pricey. Not to mention I am very protective of the Strasberg Method and the teachers who know it and teach it. The rest of the world wants to rip it up. Part of it is because they don't understand it, and part of it is because they are jealous that it works.
Life has been going full circle lately. I booked my first out of town club date in a long time. They are letting me sell my books. I havent done as much standup since being on reality tele and being fired from the club I was so good to. You know the story-I got a job on an internet tele network and made a bunch of videos and blah blah blah. Now it seems I have no choice but to get back onstage.
These days I am writing a musical as well. Which means writing stage directions so I know how to talk to actors.
I am also recording an audio book and go mad ass fast-ask Archie Ekong. So I have been reduced to my vocal production exercises. Erick Buckley, Scott Flaherty, Jan Douglas, Kohli Hessler, Todd Ferreri and the rest of the crew are probably having a gas with John Van Wyden leading the way. I detested those exercises in college but going back to the fundies has saved my ass on this project.
These past two years I have been given exposure and some fame. I now have some followers. My work on film is going to festivals.
However, sometimes you are being called home-to go back to basics. To go back to class and to keep learning. One of my favorite Broadway leading ladies still goes to acting class. There is always more knowledge to be acquired.
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 Amazon
Available as an ebook on Nook
Portions of the Proceeds go to RAINN
The other day-which was nicer by the way-I was walking along and saw RC Smith who used to open for Rachael Ray. I remember how kind he was to me when I was a fledgling with no clue. I am no longer a fledgling, but I still have no clue. It's amazing how very little changes. After that I saw my piano player Paul from my Strasberg days. I liked singing with Jan Douglas and the studio itself because I felt so safe in my acting classes. Everyone was so cool and my teachers were wonderful. For the first time in a long time I found myself wanting to go back to acting class.
After graduating NYU and taking a large number of acting classes I sort of felt burned out. I am not the type of person who lives in theory well at all. More or less, I learn by actually being Daniel in the Lion's den or baptized by fire. That's why I took to comedy the way I did. Plus I knew despite all my Checkov and Shakespeare and all the other things in my bag of tricks my claim to fame would be April being April. I knew my puppets would be my ticket as well as my ability to make people laugh and my ability to be myself and create my own work would open the door.
As well as writing self-important blogs where I have my dreams and you don't like a Peter Pan with run on sentences. They said something to that effect about me on Gawker.
I tried going back to acting class a few years ago with a private teacher who had trained with Lee Strasberg and didnt like the guy. But the guy was just an old bitter actor and a dirty old man who wanted to talk about sex more than he wanted me to read my pieces. Needless to say I stopped going after he asked me if I wanted to be photographed naked. It was no problem. Comedy was more my thing and I was on the road every weekend there was anyway, and part of a weekly show at an A-List club. There was no Shakespeare in the Park in my future.
I find myself wanting to act again. I made a movie a year and a half ago where I was a lead and one where I was supporting and I find myself wanting to do that more. I am also writing a Broadway musical. I also find myself missing acting, and the structure and freedom technique gave me. There are acting classes everywhere and some are pretty pricey. Not to mention I am very protective of the Strasberg Method and the teachers who know it and teach it. The rest of the world wants to rip it up. Part of it is because they don't understand it, and part of it is because they are jealous that it works.
Life has been going full circle lately. I booked my first out of town club date in a long time. They are letting me sell my books. I havent done as much standup since being on reality tele and being fired from the club I was so good to. You know the story-I got a job on an internet tele network and made a bunch of videos and blah blah blah. Now it seems I have no choice but to get back onstage.
These days I am writing a musical as well. Which means writing stage directions so I know how to talk to actors.
I am also recording an audio book and go mad ass fast-ask Archie Ekong. So I have been reduced to my vocal production exercises. Erick Buckley, Scott Flaherty, Jan Douglas, Kohli Hessler, Todd Ferreri and the rest of the crew are probably having a gas with John Van Wyden leading the way. I detested those exercises in college but going back to the fundies has saved my ass on this project.
These past two years I have been given exposure and some fame. I now have some followers. My work on film is going to festivals.
However, sometimes you are being called home-to go back to basics. To go back to class and to keep learning. One of my favorite Broadway leading ladies still goes to acting class. There is always more knowledge to be acquired.
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 Amazon
Available as an ebook on Nook
Portions of the Proceeds go to RAINN
January 15, 2013
Cat Coat Fur
Once when I was watching Black Adder there was the episode where Rowan Atkinson got elected to The House of Lords and wore a coat only to discover that it was made out of cat. There were the tags for Mr. Frisky, Mr. Binx and you name it they were there. Cats, dead cats. That is the only kind of cat that is worth anything in my opinion. Just kidding. Maybe it is because I am allergic to the creatures.
I got a kind reminder of that this past summer. A sound engineer I work with was house sitting and we ended hanging out. Anyway, his friend had several cats and there was cat hair everywhere. Suddenly my eyes welled up and all I could do was sneeze and wheeze and look like hell. Mr. Frisky, Mr. Binx and perhaps even Snowball had their revenge for the atrocious joke in the last paragraph I wrote. Damn those cats.
When I came home for winter break I drove past a China King Buffet I frequented as a child with my family when my mother was too tired to cook. Supposedly they served cat. Looking back, I think it was the prevalent xenophobia in my town speaking. But the rumor spread and within a few months they were out of business. But maybe it was true. Maybe I accidentally ate the likes of the House of Frisky, Binx, and Snowball. Maybe this past summer-The Park Slope Incident-was their revenge.
I have to be kinder to animals I suppose. This past summer I went out to eat with my cousin, aunt and uncle to my cousin's favorite eatery in Greenpoint. When we got there I ordered rabbit because I had never had it. I made a joke about my cousin's decease pet bunny and said technically I was eating Midnight. While Midnight had passed long ago, it was a cruel, dark joke but they laughed. Midnight had been only a few months old when she passed from a brain tumor. Poor thing. But still, I have an evil streak. Well Midnight decided she was cursing me from beyond. Brain tumor or not, she had gotten her revenge because I got food poisoning. Serves me right for picking on a dead rabbit. They are slippery creatures. Hence the trouble Bugs Bunny gets himself in constantly.
But I was kind to animals as a child. I had a dog that I so loved named Snapper who got old and died on me. We keep her ashes in the living room. I once asked my mom what would happen if the box fell over. She answered it was sealed so that would never happen. But when someone is cremated how much of them is really there. My brother Wendell once explained it was one third dirt, one third dust, and perhaps one third your loved one.
Still, I was kind to cats too. When I was three years old I played with a stray cat the neighbors took in. After playing with it because I was a child I began to complain of stomach aches and refused to eat my dinner. My mother was concerned after about a week and it was discovered this damn cat gave me worms. They put me on something that made me poop the worms out. But it was all the damn cat's fault. Those fucking feline's had it out for me from day one. The irony of it was later I was grow to be fascinated by Earth Worms.
Okay this is taking a sick turn.
Either way, I discovered the fur I bought the other day was fake which made me feel less guilty. I didn't kill the animal. However, they have a Pet Cemetery conspiracy against me.
Or maybe I am just nuts. Ha ha ha.
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 and paperback on Amazon
Available on BarnesandNoble.com as a paperback and Nook ebook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
I got a kind reminder of that this past summer. A sound engineer I work with was house sitting and we ended hanging out. Anyway, his friend had several cats and there was cat hair everywhere. Suddenly my eyes welled up and all I could do was sneeze and wheeze and look like hell. Mr. Frisky, Mr. Binx and perhaps even Snowball had their revenge for the atrocious joke in the last paragraph I wrote. Damn those cats.
When I came home for winter break I drove past a China King Buffet I frequented as a child with my family when my mother was too tired to cook. Supposedly they served cat. Looking back, I think it was the prevalent xenophobia in my town speaking. But the rumor spread and within a few months they were out of business. But maybe it was true. Maybe I accidentally ate the likes of the House of Frisky, Binx, and Snowball. Maybe this past summer-The Park Slope Incident-was their revenge.
I have to be kinder to animals I suppose. This past summer I went out to eat with my cousin, aunt and uncle to my cousin's favorite eatery in Greenpoint. When we got there I ordered rabbit because I had never had it. I made a joke about my cousin's decease pet bunny and said technically I was eating Midnight. While Midnight had passed long ago, it was a cruel, dark joke but they laughed. Midnight had been only a few months old when she passed from a brain tumor. Poor thing. But still, I have an evil streak. Well Midnight decided she was cursing me from beyond. Brain tumor or not, she had gotten her revenge because I got food poisoning. Serves me right for picking on a dead rabbit. They are slippery creatures. Hence the trouble Bugs Bunny gets himself in constantly.
But I was kind to animals as a child. I had a dog that I so loved named Snapper who got old and died on me. We keep her ashes in the living room. I once asked my mom what would happen if the box fell over. She answered it was sealed so that would never happen. But when someone is cremated how much of them is really there. My brother Wendell once explained it was one third dirt, one third dust, and perhaps one third your loved one.
Still, I was kind to cats too. When I was three years old I played with a stray cat the neighbors took in. After playing with it because I was a child I began to complain of stomach aches and refused to eat my dinner. My mother was concerned after about a week and it was discovered this damn cat gave me worms. They put me on something that made me poop the worms out. But it was all the damn cat's fault. Those fucking feline's had it out for me from day one. The irony of it was later I was grow to be fascinated by Earth Worms.
Okay this is taking a sick turn.
Either way, I discovered the fur I bought the other day was fake which made me feel less guilty. I didn't kill the animal. However, they have a Pet Cemetery conspiracy against me.
Or maybe I am just nuts. Ha ha ha.
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 and paperback on Amazon
Available on BarnesandNoble.com as a paperback and Nook ebook
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN
