Life has been nuts for the past forty eight hours. For one, I am dealing with a stalker situation that has escalated to the point where I now have the police involved. To give everyone a background of what’s going on, a fan of mine who has seen me on TV obtained my number off the internet. For the past month, this fan has been calling me under different names with different identities but is always blocking his number. Sometimes this person is my biggest fan. Sometimes they are a Russian talent agent who wants to take me for the former USSR but then when he doesn’t get his way with me gets belligerent. Sometimes this person is leaving me messages telling me my house has burned down and my puppet children have died. Sometimes, this person also pretends to be dialing my number in the guise of it being a wrong number. I do not know who they are. We never met. They only know me from television. Nothing starts a week off like a stalker.
Monday I had a meltdown on the phone with my mother about the whole thing. While I have had a stalker ex, I don’t know this person. They are a fan. That is a whole different ballgame.
Monday evening I was in Brooklyn to do Ed Sullivan on Acid, my friend Pat O’Shea’s show. I had never done it and was making my debut. Getting off the train, I saw Kindred Spirit. To give you a background Kindred Spirit was the rebound off of Holden Caulfield who said he was cool with being a rebound, acted like a bitch, blew me off for a girl who was more Jiffy, and then tried to make a comeback with a canned sleaze line. Oh, and not to mention he was trying to get a meal ticket. I knew it was his hood but I didn’t expect to see him. Anyway, I am getting off the train and there he is. I was just walking about when he made eye contact with me. There was that awkward milosecond of recognition and then the dialogue went as follows:
Kindred: Oh hey!
Seeing that he wanted to force an interaction something told me to keep walking. He wants to see if the door is still open and is not.
Kindred: Oh, so you’re gonna be like that, huh!
Seeing he wants to start drama and that I am currently dealing with a stalker, I keep walking.
Kindred: You know what, I feel really sorry for you right now!
So I kept walking as he kept shouting like a moron. Below is what I said to him in my mind.
Oh you feel sorry for me, Sir? You are the one starting shit in a subway station. So actually, I feel sorry for you, you washed up, worthless, underemployed former stud muffin who should be served with a side of washed up. However, you treat women like this all the time. You’re used to being the mutherfucking man. How does it feel to be on the otherside? Not so good. But you are showing me I did the right thing by dumping you. Dodged a big bullet. Now go take someone else to discount pizza and ask them about their finances.
Ed Sullivan on Acid was a treat. The whole show was good and it was an honor to share the stage with such talent. Pat O’Shea of course killed it as always. Then everyone on the show was awesome. There was not one weak link. Actually, I sort of felt like a weak link in a way because there writing was so good and I clearly need to write more. However, all these comedians were tremendous writers. I was blown away. Rarely is there a comedy show where all the comics are good. Most of the time there is one standout, a few are passable, and the rest have no business behind the mic. Not here, everyone was excellent. I just felt like, “Wow, I feel humbled.” As we all know rarely does April Brucker feel humbled.
Doing the show inspired me to reach higher with my comedy. It also inspired me to write more. It also made me feel grateful that Pat felt I was good enough to share the stage with people like that. The best part is, most of these folks love comedy and getting up more than anything in the world. I also met Kendra Cunningham. I have only known the lovely lass online and now to meet her in person was a treat. Maybe we will share a stage soon.
I also got to talk to Pat O’Shea after the show for sometime. While I have known him in passing for years, I never really talked to him and I would have to say he’s a good dude. He talked about being in a band back in the day and how he got into a fight with the Mighty Mighty Boss Tones (ask him to tell you the story). We also laughed about stalkers. It was something I needed after the horror show I experienced on the phone with mine. It felt good to be around good people. And again, I was inspired to step up my game. I also want to work a little cleaner. That is starting to be my goal.
I got home and went to sleep. I hit a kickboxing class before going to the police the next day. There is nothing like starting a day with a visit to the cops. It brings a special flavor to the season. While they were very nice, it just astounds me that this particular fan is this sick. This one fan ruins it for all the people who love me and my children and are grounded in reality. On the otherhand, this person is extremely mentally ill. They call me anywhere from one to three times a day. It’s more than a stupid kid, they are obsessed.
My Hershey Kiss telegram killed. A nice change of day from visiting the cops.
Inspired, I trekked to an open mic. There, I felt good about getting onstage until my set was crashed by a former friend of mine. I had been cool with this person until a few weeks ago when he went bonkers on me for no reason at a mic. The backstory is, I was doing a set that was tanking and as sort of a cunty, off the front remark to dig myself out of the hole I said, “Fuck y’all, I’ve been on TV.” Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to say but folks with TV credits do it all the time. I never have but invoked the right at that moment cause I was sensing home dislike. Some folks laughed. This guy, however, took it as a personal affront. Not to mention he had been fighting with another comedian as the mic went on. Anyway, he went up, went on this bizarre tangent about how he has been nothing but supportive of people and they just throw it in his face, and then ended it by saying he had been on TV as a kid as sort of a fuck you to me. Then I realized the whole display had been directed at me, and that this particular unbalanced individual who has a history of substance abuse and mental illness was blaming me for all that was going on in his life and his comedy career.
When I thought he left I remarked on how surreal his set was and he comes back into the room and screams at me. WOW!
So fastforward some odd weeks later. I am onstage just riffing last night and this person just starts wigging. Suddenly, I become everything wrong with his life again. My time is hi-jacked by this nutjob who is just screaming and yelling about how all I do is ripoff his set. First off, he is an open micer who has always been an open micer. Second, I have already obtained TV credits he will never get so this isn’t even a contest over who’s more legit. Finally, he’s the druggie and I am not. I just wanted to apologize for being ambitious, having goals, and this thing called talent. The experience left me shaken. Some folks were nice enough to comfort me afterwards, including the host. While bottom line, I don’t really belong at open mics because of all I have done, I just pop in to keep fresh, try out new things, and to support folks working hard. But it was just disturbing because our feud was over a month ago and he is still on it.
But maybe I should have told him that the night before I was chilling in Brooklyn and a producer for Bourdain was there and as we talked he remembered me being on the show. Take that Haterade, bitch. But I didn’t. Instead I remembered a pep talk by my friend Eddie Brill who told me the best way to deal with negativity was to starve it. He said don’t feed it, starve it. For as hard as it was for me, I walked away from this person who is clearly unstable, clearly chemically dependent, and clearly just jealous.
But the good thing is, I was walking through the West Village on McDougal aka Comedy Street and saw Jeffrey Katzman, Miguel Dalmau, Sauce, Pete, Adam Chisnall and a host of others who always put me in a good mood. I poured my heart out and they gave me comfort. They were also proud of me for the book I am releasing next month, and they wanted to know all about how I was going to make it available for purchase. Jeffrey Katzman, who’s energy is off the chain, did a happy dance with me on the sidewalk and we jumped up and down. I forgot I was wearing a dress and accidentally showing all the West Village my panties. But I didn’t care.
Then I saw that not only do I have to starve negativity, but also to feed myself with positive people who care about the craft and support me in my journey as I support them in return. It makes dealing with a stalker easier and doesn’t make those police visits as scary. It makes dealing with a former fling who wanted to ride my coattails less of an insult but rather people to tell me that I dodged a big old bullet. It makes dealing with haters not so bad because I have more people who love me in my corner.
It makes me throw shade so that no one else can steal my sunshine.
As this week dawns, I have a lot going on. However, standup has saved me from lodging a bullet in my brain before. It has been the thing that has kept me going so many times when I have had nothing else. During those times, the stage is the only place I feel safe. And at times like this, the stage is a safe place to be. I am at that point again, where there is so much going on and the stage is the only place I know I am worth anything. I am not too pretty or unpretty enough. I am not too fat or too skinny. I probly am a lil too weird for some. But I am just me and that is enough. And I have my friends, fans, family around me as my poppy seed army of positive angels. Whatever happens next with this stalker is scary and unknown, but I know I am not alone.
A penguin only orgasms once a year.