Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Barking At Airplanes (Kim Carnes)

I know I am probably on the verge of a meltdown. I have been for some time but the thing is that I don't fucking care. There is so much I have to do but I don't want to do it. I am tired of complaining people yet they seem to be farther along than me. I am tired of women just using their womanhood to get ahead rather than their talent. I'm tired of asshole guys with their assholes lines who think no woman can resist their charm, and think that the fact that I am passionate about women's rights is an aphrodesiac. I probably spelled that fucking word wrong but oh well.

I am stuck as to what to do careerwise. I get all this fabulous press and stuff but no big break. Be patient they say well here I am, drinking my coffee. My back hurts so I couldn't box today. I might cut someone. I came damn close yesterday. I have been on every major fucking show there is and yet I still get bumped in favor of people who havent done shit in years at comedy clubs because they did some stupid appearance on some stupid show. I am on the OWN network on the semi-reg with my puppet children. I get fan mail from around the world. I have been recognized on the street.

They have not. Yet they are more darling than I am. Patriarchy much?

This is why I don't put the energy I used to into standup comedy and more or less devote time and energy to my videos and blog. I am trying to monetize both. Any ideas people? I enjoy the videos and blogs more, and ironically they are opening the door to comedy club bookings on occasion. I mean, I will do a club date if offered but I don't break my ass for an art form so obviously dead.

Many of my comedian friends tell me one of two things, one they are in the same boat I am. Sick and tired of the racket and never seeming to move up, tossed aside in favor of stupid politics in a boys club so locked in. Or they tell me, "don't quit, don't quit."

I hardly call it quitting. I am making better use of my time and energy. When I concentrated on standup I was tired, broke and poor. I had no friends and no life. No one knew who I was.

I now do lots of other things and standup is merely a side compartment, not because I like other comedians, I hate them. It's because I still love my audience. I have fancy friends, famous friends, and many people know who I am. I am still quite broke and poor. But that will soon change.

I call it making better use of my time. In my end is my beginning and in my beginning is my end. This all would have never happened if the art form I spent so much time and energy on didn't fuck me over the way it did. The flowers are blooming. God bless.

I mean, I used to but the thing is, there was an attitude towards the TV time I was getting. They felt my puppet children and I had lied, sold out. So the doors closed. Friends became enemies. Yeah it hurt but they werent friends to begin with. It was more or less they suddenly realized I was seeing more TV time than they would ever. But other doors opened. Music became something I started to do, I am a hairs breath away from publishing a book, I make videos on the reg. Sometimes I dream of returning to standup like I used to.Back in the days when I believed my talent would trump the art form slanted towards men. Back in the days when I, often shafted in favor of a less talented male comedian, would someday be recognized. Back in the days when I, shafted for a less talented female comedian simply because she pandered, would be recognized.

No such day came. But again, I have fans all over the world and they have their obscurity. Who wins?

I don't really find myself writing bits on jokes unless it's a specialized gig anyway. More or less I have been writing poetry. Perhaps I am returning to my girlhood love of Plath and Dickinson, before my ex-fiance made me feel like crap for outshining him, being smarter at every turn. In some ways I identify with these women.

Sylvia Plath was a prisoner and slave to a time where women had no rights and in my opinion took the better path by killing herself. What was she going to do, be a prisoner in chains to her less talented estranged husband Ted Hughes who shined as poet laureate of England simply because he was a man while she toiled in obscurity? What's worse is that he was trying to take her children away too I do believe.

Emily Dickinson's minister husband left to go to another post without telling her, how Godly of him. So she became a shut in writing poetry. Sometimes I fancy being a shut in with my little puppet children. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the outside world and I could just write my poems and we could just do our shows for invisible people.

I just don't know what is next for me. I may or may not be a part of a touring show. I may or may not be filming a TV pilot. Maybe...

I am tired and lonely. I miss the one I love. He texted me the other day. I know I can't talk to him because he is in such trouble. But I miss him, the one I call Holden Caulfield. All the guys I met since him just lie to no end. They run around and play with women's minds and emotions because for them we are just creatures put on this planet for their amusement. Or worse yet, they have a wife and want to cheat in the open in order to exercise their dominance in the marital arrangement.

Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, de ja voodoo

I am sick of life, sick of the world, and want it to end in 2012. But could we be that lucky? Oh no. We will be sentenced. Sentenced to more bullshit. Sentenced to a world where the girl that gets the guy looks like she crawled out of some strip club where she regularly slides down the pole. Sentenced to a world where nice guys are alone because the asshole with no brain and all brawn who treats women like shit gets the girl. Sentenced to a world where bullshit sells.

Some people will say I am negative

Others will call me deluded and a nightmare on wheels

I call myself enlightened, and madly brilliant.

This is my casba bitches


No comments:

Post a Comment