Monday, April 28, 2014

This Cloud (Bush)

It is almost a week after my DVD taping and I am going through the stages of grief. There is denial. Yeah, I don't believe it is over. Then there is anger. I found myself pissed for no reason. Then there is depression. That is the biggie kind of hitting me right now. I am not really depressed, just ready for the next thing. Then the depression lifted to just feeling strange.

Life feels kind of strange now that it is back to normal.

I use the word normal loosely. As normal as it can be for someone like myself.

Yesterday was busy with work. I delivered a rapping birthday cake show girl. The client requested 8 balloons. Only less than a week before I had been getting ready to go onstage, celebrity hair dresser making me look good and makeup artist telling me about how sweet America Ferrera was. The place filled with my fans. Now back to schlepping. Anyway, I managed to get 8 balloons. I get to Long Island and the client greets me at the train. She has blood red hair, probably from something she killed.

Anyway, her name is Linda. Linda tells me this is a gift from her kids to her ex husband. She mentions what a great ex husband he is, and how she was lucky to have married rich. The only draw back was he lived three blocks away but she would much rather have his money. Linda went on to mention she had been a saxophone player and model, and had been stranded in Siberia. Apparently she wrote a book and screenplay about this subject matter, winning awards. I almost mentioned my book, but this was better than any nonfiction I could ever write. Linda explained that while her ex husband was a great guy, she wasn't allowed in his house. So I was to go, deliver, and he was going to tip me and take me to the train. It was a fuck my life kind of moment.

We went to her house to change, and she started telling me her kids were champions. Well her daughter was a gymnast who kind of gave up. But her son was a champion tennis player. Linda informed me I was to put some party music on, and her son would help me. She called her kid who told her tip the girl. Linda threw eighty dollars at me. Crazy women with lots of money are awesome. She told me she used to be a blonde and that is what the ex liked. But she dyed her hair red to make it in Hollywood. Linda also informed me her ex had decimated her in the divorce and had driven her insane. I think this had happened long before that.

I got to the house, and Linda dropped me off and sped away. I was hoping I didn't get shot. I knocked on the door and the ex husband answered. His name was Bob. A good sport, Bob asked what the hell I was supposed to be. I told him and asked their son Billy for some party music. Billy said he had access to no such thing. I think the kid know his mother is nuts.

Well the father liked it and the son captured it on camera. It worked well. The ex husband took me back to the train, and seemed like a nice enough guy. I think I know why it didn't last between them now. Either way, I always find myself in the middle of someone else's familial dysfunction.

Then my phone rang again. My boss sent me to deliver to a christening. I thought it was a baptism. Anyway, I go to deliver. It is a dude on a first date with this girl, and I am a rapping chicken. He was good looking in that 90s Suavecito kind of way. She was a pretty girl, laughing and taking photos. He laughed too. Of course his dickhead friends were hiding capturing the whole thing on camera. Guys get weird when they are about to lose a male companion for any reason. It's no homo but it kind of is.

Anyway, his friends ran out, and the dude did want to kill them. At least I didn't get shot.

I escaped death twice yesterday. Don't know how I swung that one.

Today I realized I do a two day engagement at a theatre in a month. I am also releasing my DVD. Things aren't going bad. I kind of feel like a loser for some reason too. It's grief plus allergies plus career transition.

On the upside, I made some good money yesterday and didn't get shot. And I have two good stories.

What's there to be depressed about, seriously?

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

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