I don’t know why I feel so blah lately. I just don’t feel like doing shit. My apartment is complete squalor. I just feel like sitting on the toilet, drinking my coffee, taking a long shit and reading a really bad romance novel. Actually it’s not bad. In this story the guy is a prince which means he has a job. Last week I felt so much promise, so much purpose.
This week I feel blah.
My spring fling is over. I know my past was too scary for him. Plus I think deep down he resented the fact that I would be spending more time with my gay boys than I would be with him. Currently I have the boy around the corner from the bike shop interested in me. He’s sort of a loser, but a cute one. As a result of a gig last night I now have a married suitor who has another mistress in addition to his wife. Does that make me the third wheel? I also have a bad boy who is pursuing me, one who not only went to prison but that started a riot which means he’s popular.
I guess while these suitors are wonderful, I should go back to dating celebs. Dimsdale recently made the front page news. My mother thinks he will return. I want a celeb who is age appropriate. People keep telling me, “There are more normal people than celebs.” No shit, but do you own a fucking TV? Jesus fucking Christ. I have been on it how many Goddamn times? I can’t date someone beneath me, who wants to entrap me into boredom.
But in between my puppets and my ego there might not be room for a more successful man.
That’s the thing with men, you are cute when you are just struggling, rising in the ranks. The second you see any success it’s like the end of the world. They lose their footing in your life. Or they like you when you are pretty and don’t talk because they want to believe you are dumb. Then the second your wardrobe piece is something other than Lucite shoes and lingerie it’s the end of the damn world too. I am back to not dating. My choice in men is lousy, the guys who want me are losers, and I definitely can’t date without adult supervision.
Aside from all that I don’t want to do shit. I am just tired. I am tired of being tired. Someone said to me, “Well, you can’t just expect to get places without doing any work.” No shit Sherlock. I work how many jobs, maintain an apartment in Manhattan on my own, make at least a video a week, do several auditions a day sometimes, am always booking myself on things, have gotten how much national tv time, am about to publish a book, am a spokesgirl for a national campaign, am on OWN on the semi-reg, have pitch meetings all the time, and did I mention my song is on three stations and I am not even what they call a fucking singer? So what I am trying to say is, I work all the Goddamn time and no one ever gives me anything. I work for every little thing I have. No one ever gives me a break period.
The nutty thing is, it seems everyone around me has it so easy too. I know it’s not true, it’s just the fact that I am a crazy mess. But then there are the girls with the bouncy tits who seem to have no worries. There are the bitches who are pretty, who’s lives are perfect that never have had a guy treat them badly. There are the girls who are lauded as smart, even though they are ugly, dying to put me down. The entire time I just want to say screw feminism. It doesn’t work, sisterhood isn’t power. It is just a really bad period.
On the flipside there are young people telling me how much they look up to me. They are telling me how I am the reason they either like ventriloquism or pick up a puppet. That is awesome and humbling in ways I cannot even touch. I do inspire people. I am myself. I don’t hold back. I create art, use my voice for good, and inspire others to do so.
That makes me know I potentially have to change my attitude, get over these blahs. Get rid of these negative men.
Yet still I have the case of the blahs. Let’s get some iced cream, Lifetime Movies, and just call it a life.
Love,
April
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| But captain, he told me that he was 75, not 83! |
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