Sunday, September 15, 2013

New York (Alicia Keys)

I love living in New York City. Even when the place gets on my last nerve, there is always something to make me smile. As in, there is some distraction and diversion that makes me say, "Oh it's gonna be alright."

Yesterday I was having brunch with my friend Jenny. A transplant from Dublin, she has a sweet brogue that is reminiscent of ancestors I never met. My great grandmother was one hundred percent, drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney, and loved to gamble. We were having brunch and talking theatre. She is a former stage manager who is now ASMing again at the New York Theatre Workshop (home of Jonathan Larson's Tony), and wants to perhaps be a writer. As we were talking about how she wanted to make a grand return there was this girl who caught my eye. She was across the street. A bigger girl, and I don't say this in a demeaning way cause she was, she was rocking this cute little pokadot dress. What made me look at her was she was dancing. She was bopping to some song and just dancing while waiting to cross the street. The light changed and instead of walking across the street, she danced! I nudged Jenny. "Look!"I pointed. We both started laughing. I just thought, you go girl. I don't know many people of any size who have that much confidence in themselves.

Of course the day before I was Lady Gaga way out there in Queens. I found myself in my ex's old hood which pissed me off I won't lie. Anyway, I ended up delivering to a Raggae label. It was some lesbian drama. You know the old joke about a lesbian relationship: when they are together there is all the conflict in the world. And then when there is no more conflict, you break up. The girl was sweet and I think she made up with her gf which was sweet. Anyway, after my delivery, my mom called. My mom asked, "What is new?" I said, "Well Mom, I am in Queens dressed in a bullet bra and tutu."

And then the day before that I crashed a bagel shop in Queens in a birthday cake outfit. The locksmith around the corner was nice enough to help me get dressed. The whole thing was awesome, especially since people were taking photos.It's the only place in the world where a stranger can help you get dressed and then you crash lunch in your frosting. The trip home was even crazier. This schizophrenic dude or something was on the train. He kept reading all the signs on the train. And then he kept saying that women needed this and that and just wouldn't SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! We all kept glancing at each other like, "Dear God!" Asians who are the most stoic people on the planet even cracked me the "why the fuck us?" look. And then this Arab dude shot us the same look. And then a white dude. The black dude just gave us all the yikes look as the crazy man kept going. And then I realized the dude was holding a bag of garbage. Welcome to New York.

Of course after getting off the train I saw some girl I hate. She used to perform comedy and was just a negative attention seeker in every way. She lied about her father molesting her in order to get more stage time. Oh and she slept with a variety of more established headliners for spots. I wouldn't have cared except she stole one of my jokes RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME and then just said some evil things about me too. Well I come to find out about a year ago she was diagnosed as borderline personality disorder and that she was heavily medicated. So here she is, walking down the street. She looks like a bag lady who has gained fifty pounds. Her baby blue eye makeup is running off her eyes and her red lipstick off her face. I thought it was pretty funny. I said, "Yes, there is a God." But then I felt bad because she is a clearly troubled person. While I don't care for her, this didn't make me feel good that her life had taken such a turn down the shitter. Suddenly I felt like a bad person.

Then walking through Times Square I high fived a klingon and Darth Vader gave me a hug. That's when I forgot about it and knew everything would be okay

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

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