Pieces of April (Three Dog Night)

I remember it was a rainy day when I decided to come to New York. Things in my life weren't looking up. At school I was bullied relentlessly. I was overweight, had cystic acne, braces, and nothing else going on. There were three things I excelled at: Storytelling in Forensics, Story writing that won me local awards, and secretly practicing with my Groucho Marx ventriloquist figure. I was told by teachers I had a gift. When I watched the TV, Mae West hooked me in. Madonna's BioRhythm on MTV enthralled me. And then I saw LA Confidential.

Afterwards, I went on a walk with my mom and poured my heart out. My mother who had gotten me my ventriloquist figure the year before didn't tell me no. She didn't laugh at my pipe dream. Instead she looked at me, all barely five feet of her and declared, "Baby, if you want to do that you have to move to New York."

Yesterday I got some distressing news. Otto Petersen, a ventriloquist I admired, had passed away. He was the human half of Otto and George. Notorious as both a ventriloquist and comedian, Otto could pack them in wherever he played. He offended people at the XXX awards. What I loved about him most was that he was fearless onstage, but offstage he was kind and supportive to young comedians finding their voices. The same went for Otto's friends. Yeah, on the radio, onstage, or TV they ragged on each other. But offstage, they had each other's backs. Comedians are backstabbing pricks. This is rare.

Yesterday I also got some good news with my ventriloquism. An opportunity I had been scouted for months ago finally is moving. This is very exciting, and could be very good for me. It was the bright spot in a day filled with darkness, and filled with the pain of the loss of someone I admired so much. It is just just a pleasure to work alongside a hero. It is an honor, especially when they say, "I like your stuff."

I was excited about this news, and went to a friend's house to watch RuPaul's Drag Race. I got an email from this opportunity, the link I sent them didn't work. AHHHHHH!!!!!! I emailed the woman and searched frantically for the link on my computer. My head was going to explode. One of my spirit animals insisted I go to bed.

In the morning another spirit animal friend helped me find it. He sent me two versions of the link. It was fine. They were happy. Having worked in production, I know in my heart they were as stressed out as I was. Our heads were exploding together. Then there was nearly a mix up in the time I delivered the telegram this morning. Oh and I forgot to email my mother goodnight and it seemed everything was going off the rails before 9 AM. As I ran to the train seeing I missed one and another wouldn't come for an hour I took a breath. I stuffed a chocolate donut in my mouth. I agonized over my DVD taping. Oh, and I added a singer friend to the bill.

I got caught in the rain again on my way to the delivery, I took a wrong turn. However, when I got there they were awesome people. The most extraordinary delivery I have done in a long time. They liked me and my energy. I put on a good show and got a surprise tip. I handed them a post card for my filming.

The guys looked at it and said, "That puppet looks familiar. That puppet has been on TV."

"Yeah, she's been on TLC, Rachael Ray, and The Today Show. Hardest working girl in show biz, May Wilson."

"She has a last name?" The other guy laughed. They got a kick out of it. I explained a well known ventriloquist told me to do it. A well known ventriloquist named Otto Petersen. I tried not to well up at that moment.

As I walked back in the rain I thought of everything in my life coming together. All the hard work looking as if it was finally paying off. I gloated, May Wilson was recognized. I also sent some facebook messages as I battled the rain under an overhang, reminding my friends that my taping was a week away. I feared my venue cancelling my taping. I feared everything crashing down.

And then I remembered Otto. He was fearless. He didn't give a fuck. George would say, "Brush your teeth with my cock." For everyone that hated him, twenty more loved him. I was blessed to have worked and learned from one of the greatest. Maybe someday, when I get over myself, I will be an eighth as cool. Of course, perhaps some of what he had will rub off on me. Perhaps the basketcase will be replaced with the freedom he had.

There were people who wrote me telling me they would have never known about me had it not been for The Pig Roast. So many friends I would have not met if it weren't for the Pig Roast. Some naysayers have said that I am a hack, female version of Otto and George. Not true. Otto was original, funny, and unique. Rip off would have meant that I had some of his charm. Again, I could only be so lucky.

Then I remembered someone had seen May Wilson. Maybe people were going to come see my DVD taping. Maybe my dreams were coming true. And somewhere, maybe just maybe there is a kid who has heard about me, and has been following my career. Much like Otto, there are quite a few ventriloquists who don't like my brand of humor. Otto was better as shutting them out. Yeah, I feed into it from time to time, downside of being a woman. Again, only hoping to be almost as cool.

Maybe that kid's mother will tell them to move to New York. And maybe that kid will seek me out.

That's when I will tell them, "You figure needs to have a last name......"

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

The Career Wilderness

No one ever talks about career wilderness. It is where the wild things go, except that the wild things are fictional. This is real. On top of that, everyone experiences it. A friend of mine who works for the UN mentioned a friend of hers who climbed as far as she could was 35. The next opportunity for advancement was not until she was 42, which is the minimum age for a certain ambassador position. So thus she was trapped in the career wilderness.

There is no place that is more vast when it comes to this than show business. When I began comedy, I thought you got on TV and you were a star. It was that way a few generations ago. Now it is actually quite easy to get on TV. It's strange. I knew people from back in the day who were on shows like Premium Blend and Last Comic Standing. As a 20 year old kid I looked at them like gods. They were everything I wanted to be in comedy. Younger comedians adored and respected them. However, for a lot of them this didn't last forever. Many Premium Blend alum have not done anything in years, except wander the NYC comedy scene hopelessly, going from crappy basement to crappy basement. It is as if they werent even stars but somehow fell from the sky back down to Earth. Same with the folks on Last Comic Standing. Same with a lot of people who were talking heads once upon a time on Best Week Ever. They probably go through their notebooks remembering when once upon a time they were someone......kinda.

I remember the first time I got on TV. Last Comic Standing 5 briefly. I had a bunch of people who wanted to claw my eyes out, particularly people who made the callback and didn't get as much airtime with Bill Bellamy. This didn't phase me until some fat, ugly mommy comic called it out on the web. Then I was on Rachael Ray. Good or bad, the appearance got some buzz. I was kind of doing theatres at the time. I also had inked a pilot deal for another project. Star power, right? And then I did a pre-show for Aretha Franklin. Little did I know I was about to enter the career wilderness myself.

The market popped and the day job that got me the pilot dried up, so I was forced to do bitch work handing out fliers on the sidewalk. The worst was, one day the location was outside a place I had only taped months before. Rachael Ray had given me a TV credit, but my appearance had been controversial. I hadn't killed it. Also, it wasn't a Late Show or Comedy Central credit. It was a weirdo credit. I had also officially graduated from barking and bringing. So now because I wasn't a headliner and was no longer a bringer, stage time was harder than ever to get. I didn't know what was next for me, and the future seemed very dark. Maybe it was time to hang it up, move back home. Maybe I was going to be someone wandering the scene talking about how great I could have been.

During this period I was so poor I walked everywhere, thus losing a ton of weight. I got onstage any chance I got, and put away a lot of good sets though. I spent my weekends on the road burning up all my money on gas. For as good as my comedy was getting, I feared I would never get where I wanted to go. I spent all summer performing in parks, subways, and any street corner where I could set up shop. People threw me money and I began to not only become a better comedian, but my non lip movement was damn near perfect. That fall I got the opportunity to do my own show with my puppets. I continued doing this at different venues and built a small following. I also began writing my book. Slowly, the darkness lifted and I began to see a light. Perhaps the future wasn't so dark after all. Still, I couldn't have that darkness again. It would kill me.

I did everything I could never to go back. I made videos and continued producing my own work. However, I became so scared of the dark I started to settle. I remember thinking I would trapped forever being worked to death as an open mic host, but didn't want to go back to uncertainty. One day my boss told me that sometimes we had to settle in show business, and I needed to stop demanding better spots. Another pro told me that we all deserved better spots when I was complaining about my lot. That is when my gut told me perhaps the darkness had it's benefits.

I got the fuck out.

That fall, I went past a location I had passed out fliers travelling in a limo from The Today Show. My puppet children and I were on a press tour. Things picked up steam. Soon fans were pouring in. People who had seen me once upon a time were writing me to tell me how proud they were. The darkness had cleared and now I was looking at my first blue lagoon.

However I was soon to step into quicksand. I was fired from my open mic job because I had spent too much time away with the press tour. A bigger club didn't pick me up. But instead I got a job as a talking head for a website, and began making music. "Stay" was number one for five weeks on the internet, and I published my book. I also became a regular blogger for the Huffington Post, and released the audioe version of my book. While it didn't make sense at the time God knew where he was guiding me.

The money wasn't as plentiful as I had hoped, and I still have my day job which is fine. I like my day job. But I am back in the career wilderness once again. I have one project that was inspired by my book, that was turned down by someone major. Now it is in new hands and I am waiting. We have a new person on it pushing things forward, but I am waiting. I have another major project having to do with my puppets in the hands of someone important. Both have some legal red tape, and both could be good if they happen. However, with the red tape comes limitation of movement. Additionally, I have a new web start up job as a sports broadcasting talking head and a  teaching artist job.....steady money but they haven't started yet.

Still, this is a blessing in a way because since CBS Local I have wanted to do more with sports broadcasting. So I am looking forward to that new adventure actually.

I am also filming a DVD. The whole thing is killing me in a lot of ways. I am busting my ass readying things. My material is coming together. But there is a chunk in the middle that is questionable, and I am wrestling with how to end it. Also, publicity is making my head explode. I made a poster, am passing out postcards, and am listing it on every site ever. I got a friend who films comedy DVDs to do me a favor and do it. I am scared of my fans not showing up and the venue pulling my show. I just want everything to be perfect, and am losing my mind. Yesterday I was yelling at my assistant which was pretty funny actually.

I was talking to a friend of mine, a career actress who has done regional theatre and television her entire career. Kind of an aunt/mom type, she was one of the first people to buy my book. She explained this was part of the profession, this is what I signed up for. My Neighborhood Auntie mentioned that once you find yourself in the uncertainty, you find yourself out and you just need to have faith. She also gave me hope, mentioning that all the things that were stressing me were good things. Things I have worked for. Additionally, while the future is unknown it doesn't mean it's bad. It could actually be quite bright.

I also fear I won't get to the next level with my career. I have exposure but no money in the bank. I don't know what is next for me, either. At the moment, the future feels very dark and unsure. However, I remember how sparkling and bright the blue lagoon was and how the sun shone on it. For some reason, my Higher Power wants to humble me and teach me new lessons. Hopefully the brush will clear and I will know answers soon.

Hopefully, I will be out of the career wilderness.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
www.aprilbrucker.com


Come see me April 22nd @ 7pm
Metropolitan Room
34 W. 22nd st.

Chucking My Cinderblock

Yesterday during my coffee I did a lot of thinking. The funny thing about comedy, ha ha, is nothing is ever set in stone. Today's TV appearance does not guarantee tomorrow's club bookings. Today's club booking does not make one a headliner tomorrow. Today's headliner spot does not mean you won't be haggling for spots next week. Show business is crazy like that. You get what I am saying.

For a while I thought TV time would make me a star. Ironically, when I was on TV most I had the least amount of money in my bank. I remember my episode of Rachael Ray was airing and the crackhead son of the neighbors down the block from me growing up saw it. At the time I was living off my laundry money, doing a host of odd jobs, and I believe my rent check bounced that month. Yes it got me some respect on the street, but nothing else really. If anything in some ways it made my life harder because I had taken a risk on national television. Looking back, I probably wasn't ready for the appearance. Now I know people drill themselves to hell before an appearance and have their jokes on teleprompter. I was twenty three. I had a puppet. Sometimes you just do things. I was glad I did though. While some didnt support me, the folks who did said, "You look good on camera. You should be on TV more."

I remember after that I got on TV again with Foxworthy who is one of the nicest people I have ever worked with. Then I was on TLC and did the press tour with my babies and you know the scoop. And if you read my blogs you know what happened afterwards and how some of it wasn't so nice. Yes, my home club fired me despite the press I got them. Yes, I found out who my friends were and werent the hard way and it sucked, especially to find out on Gawker.

The truth is, I started to develop an attitude about everything. I am a woman in a career with mostly all men. There were guys upset that I seemingly had things handed to me when they didnt see how hard I was working. As a result of my TV time, I had male headliners who hadn't done shit in years bump me because they could bully a junior producer into doing so. I also had them take cheap shots at me because of my recent success. Of course some would intentionally run the light so that people would walk out of the room when I came on because hell, it was getting late. I never had these issues before getting on television. Now I was seeing the dickish side of male comedians. And for the record, it seemed they had their breaks handed to them more than I ever did.

I wish I could say I got support from the women but not so much. They were even worse. Taking pot shots at me on gossip sites was their favorite past time. Some of my so called comedy gal pals were the first to stop talking to me when I got on television. As an added bonus, you would think the women at the top would be nicer to each other? Hell no. Women would have taken over the world a long time ago except we are too damn busy cutting each other down. This hurt too. And I felt all alone.

For a long time I was really angry. Other doors opened like the web network I was on and I took to it. I was pissed a bigger club didnt pick me up. Oh well, I was done with standup. I still performed but not as much. And usually when I did I had something to bitch about. Why couldn't I throw around my TV credits like all the guy comics? Why didnt I get pushy with junior producers? Why wasnt I one of the cool kids who had their careers handed to them? Why did I have to have a brain being so conscious of who and what I was?

The thing about resentment is it is drinking poison and expecting someone else to get sick. I didn't enjoy comedy so much anymore because I had developed such a terrible attitude. Slowly I was becoming everything I hated. I would tell people about my TV time just to remind them in case they forgot. They didn't forgot my TV time and they also didn't forget my bitch streak I had developed. So people began to say I had developed an attitude. Sure, it wasn't intentional but it was there. And some of my anger was justified. There were people not willing to use me on shows but willing to use my image on their posters because I was current. Yes. Fans recognized me on the street. However, I could still be treated like a piece of shit even though I was technically more famous than the (male) headliner trying hunty shit to bump me. This would make anyone angry.

My mother said it best though, "When you laugh, the world laughs with you. When you cry, you cry alone." I was miserable. The thing about anger is eventually it just eats away at your spirit and makes your body ache. I was getting aches and pains out of no where. And it was all my fault. I had a vendetta against the male world that I thought wronged me, the female world who didn't support me, and the comedy world who doesn't know who I (think) I am. Worst of all, I didn't enjoy the thing I used to love most in the world, getting onstage and making people laugh.

Lately I have been getting onstage again. Instead of letting the world know about my TV time I just have been making it about being funny. And when I have been doing that, it occurs to me that I have also been forgetting to do something else: have fun. On any given night I am blessed to share the stage with some of the greatest talent in the world. Some have been on TV more than I have and some may never. Some are not as funny as I am while some are better than I could probably ever be. The point is, when my mind is in the right place the stage becomes my classroom and I learn.

I also like being back onstage. It is like I am twenty years old again lugging my puppets from class to a spot. While I have seen some success, yes, there is still lots of work to be done. Sure, I have all the TV credits I didn't have at twenty. I have the New York Club and road experience I didn't have at twenty. Hell I even wrote a book. Something I only dreamed of at twenty. However, there is one thing that twenty year old kid had that I don't have, a positive attitude. She jumped onstage wherever they let her. She had an open mind and an open heart. Sure she was goofy and clueless as hell but she wasn't afraid and that carried her a long way. Then life happened and she got jaded. But don't we all.

My point is, while time has passed, it is not too late to get that person back. The kid who wears too much makeup but isn't afraid to be herself. The little girl who moved from Pittsburgh and is all alone. The little girl who loved comedy and it times it was the only thing keeping her from jumping out the window when her entitled princess roommate talked about how a decent guy was into her. It was the only thing that kept her from lashing out at the slutty girls or the goody girls. It was the only thing that made her get the respect of the rest of the guys in the room cause she was balls to the wall.

Yeah, my journey has not been easy. There have been people who have told me no. There have been people who have laughed in my face. There have been people who have turned on me with some of my recent success. It hurts because I would never do that to anyone and it is not who my mother raised me to be. At the same time, my mother didn't raise me to be an egotistical tool like I have been becoming either. While these people might suck I have been giving them way too much energy and it's my fault for letting them snatch my spirit.

At the end of the day the industry isn't fair but neither is life. Every dog has their day. We can only work as hard as we can. We can only control what we can. What I can control is being as funny as I can be. I remember I did that after Rachael Ray and it was the best thing I ever did. Now I am doing it again. Yes I still have other cool things I am doing but first and foremost I am returning to basics. This means not running my mouth to bookers and letting my ego get bruised. It is nothing personal, just a part of the game.

As I chuck my cinderblock, I feel not only do I enjoy the thing that I used to love most again, but feel apart of instead of apart from the comedy community. Yes I have worked hard and have done some cool things. But my job behind the mic is to be funny and to push the boundaries by challenging my audience as an artist. Most important of all, it is to make the world a better place. Not only am I more joyful, but I feel fifty pounds lighter.

Love

April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

I'm Not Scared (Eighth Wonder)

There are two things performers and artists fear. One is not getting what they want. The other is getting what they want. It is a flipped out bipolar dichotomy that we live in. There is this constant bouncing back and fourth like a game ball trying to get where we need to go. Or at least where we believe we need to go. Or maybe it is like a sicko version of Candy Land. I don't know. Oops, I made a rhyme. Maybe I should write a self-indulgent poetry blog that no one reads. This girlfriend of a guy I once dated is doing that these days. A few months ago she was harassing me because she is insane. I am glad she found a new outlet for her crazy. Apparently they are more committed than mental patients. Maybe they can have a bunch of little idiot spawn. I don't care, as long as she leaves me alone. She was on so many drugs she made the Amnesty Box at Rikers Island look like a sober house. Then again, if you met my ex you would understand. I'm surprised I survived that brief blessed union of souls drug free.

Her crazy made the latter part of February and early March very interesting. From her trying to copy my wardrobe, to her putting up a video when I did, and then of course there was the video where a girl named April was getting her head beaten in. Did I mention she was calling me and hanging up and blocking her number? The thing that triggered her insanity was that my ex was reading my book. But he proposed to her and now she is leaving me alone. The whole thing did test my sanity and serenity. Now she has announced she is writing a book of poetry. Curiously, she announced this when my ex began reading my book. Who knows? Who cares? I am just glad she is leaving me alone. Needless to say it made things interesting. I have to put this in the act sometime.

Lately I have been living in hope, joy, angst, and fear all at once. It is a bizarre state of being. I have a lot of good things going on. First thing is first, I have a book signing at an Ivy League School. My audiobook is also coming out in a month. If I have not sung their praises enough my sound engineers are fabulous. I have also taken the steps to get extended distribution for my book. This means not only will I be more readily available in America but also Europe, Asia, South America, Australia, Africa, and for the penguins in the South Pole. I have some big venues interested in doing book talks. Plus another project I am involved with is in the second phase of planning. There are a lot of awesome things going on in my life.

On the other hand there is some angst and fear I am feeling. First, there was a paperwork error in the system with my book. In essence, it is available in a chain store as an ebook but not as a paperback which is losing me lotsa money. Yesterday I took a huge step with the Vice President of my publishing house to correct it. However it has been angst on the level of a stomach ulcer. Then while my audiobook is being edited and I know I am (probably) in good hands with my sound engineers, I have this fear the studio will burn down because one of the rappers in there is smoking a blunt with his gal pal in the bathroom and accidentally lights the place on fire. I know it will probably not happen. But my mind is just that insane. I am also afraid no one will come to my book signings.

Of course then there are things just denied to me sometimes. While I have been on TV a million freaking times and fans recognize me on the street sometimes I am bumped by some (male) comedian who was on some stupid show a million years ago that was dumped by his management. Yet somehow he still has the pull to put the fear of God in people and bully them around to get what he wants. Yes mutherfucker, I have been on TV more than you in the past two years. Actually, in the past two years I have been on TV more than YOU EVER WILL BE YOU SPOILED BASTARD WHO HAD AN EASY LIFE. And I wrote a book. Yes, book. See, book. B-o-o-k. None of your fans even know you anymore. Maybe I should start acting like an asshole to get what I want. Oops, as a woman if I do the same thing I will be labeled as crazy and they will call me a bitch. But do I care? Fuck that shit, yo. Then again maybe he and his ego as well as his career, washed up on the shores of the land of hasbeen, won the battle. But bitches, I am winning the war.

I remember a few years ago I was at a show and I was headlining. This guy who believed himself to be a comedian, ha ha, and lied about being on Rodney Dangerfield's specials was angry someone like myself, a woman, was headlining. He broke his ass to assure me he was no novice. Note, I have not found his name anywhere on any Dangerfield Special. Anyway, he intentionally run his fifteen minutes to thirty. I was supposed to follow him. The crowd was tired and they were leaving the room as I was onstage. I was a young woman? Why should he treat me with dignity? Anyway it was a shitty night. But here is the thing. My TV credits are real. I don't have to lie. I don't have to do a bitch stunt against a young person because they scare me. My books are real too. Oh and since that time I have been on TV quite a bit and I have a feeling he is watching me with his ugly, dyed blonde, tacky arm ornament that he calls a girlfriend.

And then around that time I was being worked to death at a New York shit, rat, regrettable hell pit that shall remain anonymous. Despite a lot of things I was being treated like a stray dog. Yes I made them a lot of money. Yes I revived a dying mic. Yes I had more current TV credits than many of their male headliners and mine werent in the 1990s. But as a woman my life is just harder, period. (Just like their dicks when they lie about advancing my career). Anyway, one evening I decided I had enough. I told the manager I was working under he either gives me what I wanted or I was done. This veteran comedian who doesn't do anything but whine tried to justify stuff and I let him have it. That is when he went to the club owner and said I had an attitude problem. Well I quit a few months later after putting said club on television. What do those fucks do? Answer, a year later they call me begging me to take my job back. The idiot who took over got sick of being treated like a dog, even though he bragged he took the spot of "the bitch who never showed up." I just remember saying, "Listen, I have just published a book, have a single that is number one on the internet, and am pitching a TV show in Hollywood. My schedule is full. Thank you for the phone call." And I hung up.

I almost wanted to say, "Do you own a TV bitches cause me and my puppet babies have been on OWN." But nah. I am sure they saw my book on The Official Website of Britney Spears.

As things are beginning to happen for me there is always a lot of fear in the back of my mind. I was at this same place careerwise back in 2008-2009. I had opened for Aretha Franklin. I had been on Rachael Ray. I had been on the Soup. People were talking. I had been on Cinematherapy. I start a lot of sentences with "I" because I am an egomaniac who only has her career and puppets. Anyway it all dried up. I found myself on the street flyring when the market popped outside the door of places I once went to film. It was the ultimate slap in the face. It didnt matter how famous I was. It didnt matter....There is so much of me that is afraid of that happening again. I am unrepresented. Therefore as someone who is indie I have to push harder. Meanwhile I have been on TV more than my friends who have wasted their time with agents and managers who blindly submit them. But I am so scared of losing my momentum.

On the other hand, I am older, wiser, and less of a basketcase. Not to mention unlike then I have seriously paid my dues. While older male headliners simply view me as a piece of ass because that is how they view all women, I have. Maybe I am not fat and ugly needing to talk about my period like a lot of female comedians (who's keeping women back now bitches) but I have paid my damn dues. Oh and here is the kicker, I am not giving up. While there are a great many people who would like the basketcase back I am not giving up. And TLC and OWN keep playing me quite often as does the Travel Channel.

I am not allergic and against getting management like I was a few months ago. If I continue on the upswing I might need it. Also, not all of them are stupid and lazy. I know my brand. Someone who desperately loves comedy probably has a financial wet dream about someone like myself. Not to mention my book is only gaining more momentum. I have dollar signs on my ass and I am not even a porn star.

I am awfully glad Amy Schumer has her own show. Although I have never met her, I find her funny. While she is different than I am, which is fine, it is a good thing not just for her but for all women in comedy. It means the tide is changing which is good. It means you don't have to be hideous and unshaven in order to be found funny. You can be cute and adorable without being Rita Rudner. While I have nothing against Rita, those of us who are not so refined have always been held to that bizarre man safe standard of woman in comedy.

Fuck it. I am not jealous of anyone getting their own thing. I know where I am going. I know that I am doing. Just get out of my way world because if you do not like it I am running you down.

The only thing I fear is not getting mine and getting what I want. The world not seeing the dues I have paid and the youth I have given up. The universe not rewarding me for the desperate, dateless nights because I threw away romance to chase a pipe dream that a man and a baby would ruin. And yes, coming to the conclusion that life isn't fair. Of course I am scared I will lose my momentum. That I will stagnate. That I will always be an shoulda been who got on TV a few times that now hangs out at venues where dreams go to die bitching about the good old days. That when I am old and my looks fade, that I am just a no one with nothing to show for her effort.

On the other hand, I know I am a little afraid of getting what I want. With the taste of fame I have gotten I found out who my friends are and are not. I have never had to watch my back more in my life. I am reaching for the people above me to let me in the party, and hoping the people I left behind in the trenches don't shake the latter thus making me fall down. Hell I remember once I went to a mic just to get out and this guy asks, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you." He didn't ask because he was curious. The next words out of his mouth were, "So those TV credits didnt make a difference." Yes, TV credits. Things you will never get you idiot.

Either way, I am climbing the latter one slippery (or slippy as I said growing up) step at a time. I have never been one of those comedians who has had her career handed to her. I have never been a part of the cool kid clique. I have never been a part of any clique. I have just been myself. Sure, I have never done it the way they wanted me to but I am closer to being a household name than any of those stupid, dumb fucks.

This is my style.

These are my words.

I take my hits with my rock hard abs standing like a man.

If you don't like it here is my foot up your ass.

Love

Love

April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Sunday Girl (Blondie)

It is Sunday and I don't know what to do with myself. I should probably clean my damn bunker, I mean apartment. But it is much too nice outside. Usually my Sundays were spent in a recording studio with Archie and Anthony. It was like clockwork. I rolled out of bed, threw on my sweats, and off I went to read like a dyslexic. Okay maybe not that bad but I had my moments. Anyway now that my recording is done and the editing is in progress I am aimless.

Part of me feels like renting a black dude and Dominican for three hours, just because I have been spending every Sunday with a black dude and a Dominican. When I rent them I have to read my book, stumble over my words, and tell a story about a gay porn star friend of mine. The black dude will shake his head and the Dominican will be completely disgusted at the hot mess I call my life. Wait, it won't be the same. I might have to give them both commands.

There is another part of me that feels like brunching with my homos. I haven't done that in so long and it is getting warm again. It will be an excuse to sit outside, laugh, and just smile. I need to hear raunchy stories about their hook ups. JR is coming home in a few months. Perhaps we can get ourselves in trouble with an entire basketball team or something. Part of me wants a boyfriend. Part of me wants a fling. I am not sure but we can all McGiggle about everything. I need a brunch buddy damnit! Or I could brunch with the girls too. Hell I could brunch with everyone.

I feel like a junkie going through withdrawl in some ways. There is a part of me that has so much to do that feels tired. I have to do things for my musical but feel worn out. I don't want to do shit. Of course I need to clean my house. Don't feel like doing that either. I cleaned my bathroom. My common room and bedroom are like a World War II bunker minus the cigarette butts. Oh and then there is some book stuff but I feel like sleeping and hanging out instead.

I also feel lost and worthless. What am I doing with myself? Meanwhile I have just scheduled a book signing at an Ivy League College and got passed to the second phase in a TV pilot project. Not to mention I am writing a musical. But I have also been going through this streak where I have been as bitchy as hell. I find myself ripping on people and being jealous. I have no idea to do neither really. Thing is, I am used to being busy as hell. Now I am less busy and just don't know that to do with myself. So I am simply jealous that they are busier than I am, that's all. Meanwhile once my audiobook comes out and once I get the ball rolling with my musical I won't be able to breathe. Plus I have a huge signing coming up in a month.

I don't know what to do with myself. Already went for a jog. On my jog I saw a sign that was close to the name of the studio I spent all my Sunday's in. I was like holy shiznit. Either God, Allah, Frank the Pink Bunny, or Margot the Dominican Drag Queen is telling me everything is going to be okay, or I have been spending too much time at the studio. I don't know yet.

Maybe I will go brunch with friends whether they are homos or not. That way I can laugh, take a load off, and then I can focus on work. I think I have been working too hard and haven't been having enough fun. A brunch would be a good thing. Plus my body wouldn't hurt so much.

Maybe I will take a yoga class at my gym. Make some new friends and it will eliminate the bitchy streak in my veins.

But the bitchy streak speaks some wisdom. First things first being that if you name your child Destiny, you groom them for failure.

Nonetheless I named my blog Sunday Girl because I met Deborah Harry during my recording time and it was one of the coolest things to happen to me this year.

Anyway watch out for my audiobook and keep me in your prayers or chants or good vibes or whatever the hell you do. Eh, maybe I need to go to church. Haven't been doing that lately cause I have been recording Sundays. I dont know. I will figure it out.

Love

April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Blonde Ambition.

I have had a long last week and a half. From Thursday to today I have delivered telegrams all day, performed three of those nights when I wasn't doing things for my musical, spent one of those days in a recording studio of a platinum award winning record producer, and then I filmed a pilot too. Basically I am wiped. When my musical gets on it's feet I will be adding vocal coach sessions to that.

Monday my friend Omar mentioned he had seen me on TV. Yes, Officer E and I were on Bordain again. He had DVRed it. Anyway, I was psyched. I was tired as hell because I had been Marilyn Monroe in the Bronx that morning. While my day was over by twelve it was way up in the BXs and I really get into my girl, making sure all my songs are perfect. But this was enough to make me go yeahhhhhh!!!!! Anyway I go to Queens to see my boys and I say to my boy Derek, "I was on TV again." To which Derek replies, "I have been watching Jerry Springer all week and have not seen you once." This is why I love my friends. They keep me grounded. They keep me real.

Tuesday I was set to do an I'm Sorry Gram that got cancelled, thank God. I couldnt handle a high strung Jewish doc's wife after the working all week last week, in the studio all day Sunday and now this. WOWSA! I spent Tuesday night relaxing and being so exhausted I ended up crying at my girl's  house in Brooklyn. She cooked for me which was nice. Sometimes I just need someone to cook for me like she's my mom. Plus I went to bed at nine and I never do that. Oh and I got my nails done for my pilot. Plus I got fan mail. YIPEE!!!!

I filmed my pilot yesterday. (More on that later) On my way to Port Authority to go to Jersey to film I got a phone call from someone I once worked for on a project telling them they saw me and my puppet babies on TV and how proud they were. Of course it made me feel princess and pauper in my sweats and curlers with my perfectly coiffed nails. Apparently the two who are making it from this project are Nikki Minaj and myself. While I am no Ms. Minaj I am flattered I am second to her.

Filming was a lot of fun and there were a lot of great comedians. I glammed up like I do all the time when I go onstage. May and I performed for the camera, hoping it loved us. Hoping to make the cut. Hoping and shining. With my hair styled and glammed to the max I thought, "Strut and shine, April and May."

We had our share of funny quips. Truth be told though, there was not one comedian at the shoot who wasn't funny and wasn't strong. All the stories they told were good and I actually felt flattered to be in their company. One guy had been doing comedy almost as long as I had been alive. He was particularly neat. This guy was a magician and fire eater who had been a single dad and raised his kid alone while she toured with him. He had neat stories and was fabulously talented. I was flattered and humbled to be in such company. The shoot was a lot of fun. I loved every second of it, so much so that when I left it didnt even cross my mind that I hadn't eaten all day. I was having sooooo much fun I didn't even realize I was hungry.

Of course my dad called me while my cell was off. My mom has been out of town and he had to travel for work and would be going back to an empty house. So when my dad called he asked where I was and I was like, "Ummm, filming a TV pilot." My dad wasn't shocked per se, but I think it's a guy thing. They expect us to be waiting by the phone when they call. Anyway he was like, "Oh good." And of course he being my dad asked if they were paying me and it was like "Of course." :P. But it was a good convo. I think my dad was actually happy I was working. Not that I am not working all the time. Of course never complain about working, right?

When the day ended I was happy and I was BEAT! When I changed out of my diva gear and back to my dress I found myself feeling like a little kid who stole her mother's dress in some ways. While the diva gear is fun to wear and the diva act is fun to throw around, I know I have a long way to go as far as growing into my headliner skin goes. I was around some incredible comedians and well, they were amazing. They reminded me that while it was cool I get people telling me they saw me on TV with my babies and blah, blah, blah my primary purpose behind the mic is to be funny and to get funnier. And those comedians yesterday inspired me to keep running towards that goal.

Today I woke up and ended up delivering two telegrams, a rapping chicken and then one for Stephanie Holmes. It was a favor to her work friend. We talked for a few minutes about the comedy biz. We both said we wanted someone to make us big stars and give us millions of dollars. We are both divas in training. The experience was cool. I killed both telegrams despite the long week I have been having.

I then decided with money in my pocket I was going to EAT. I figured 3:30 was a good time to get some food. I had waited almost ten hours between meals the day before. And nearly twelve the day before that. And a mere eight the day before that. So I figured it had been five hours and that was the healthy recommended normal so I went to a new Asian Fusian Eatery.

The service was excellent and as I was eating one of the owner's daughters-very sweet girl-comes up to me and asks where she knows me from. I shyly look down and without sounding too full of myself mention that I have been on TV quite a bit. And I joked and say peeps usually recognize my voice. And then she says she recognizes my voice as well. Yes, she has seen me on TV, LOL. And then I mention I perform and she says maybe she has seen me there too, LOL. We talk and she asks what shows I have been on. I mention all of them and one of them is Bourdain and apparently her dad, who is sitting right there, loves Bourdain. AWESOME. And by the way, I also ended up chatting with her dad who was cool as hell and her drummer brother who just did his first five minutes popping his cherry at Stand Up NY.

I also pulled out Officer E who made his TV debut on Bourdain out and they loved him. They took our pic and put it on their facebook page.

So SATYA! Go there if you have a chance.

As I walked to the train to the Parkside Lounge to get some stage time I realized I had left the house with a fresh face and my nails were not so perfectly coiffed. As a matter of fact my manicure was starting to chip. It was perfect. I didnt want to be a diva at the Parkside with Officer E. Sometimes I just want to cut loose, rip it up in my street clothes looking like a poor comic as my ex manager calls me. Poor comic. Poor comic who fired my MANager and got on TV.

The mic was fun and it was just a chance to laugh and have fun. I don't care about the bull shit politics or getting passed at clubs these days. My whole thing is I want to do the A rooms or no duce. I dont put too much stock into it, after all, to each his own. As a woman in this business I have ten strikes against me. Hell if I were a man I would be considered the second coming. And as a woman I am considered the second cumming, insert hack joke.

On my way home I ended up taking a cab and felt the cinder block on the shoulder return. Yes I get on TV. Yes they point a camera at me and it lights up. Yes I get recognized and get fan mail. Then why do the A rooms tell me no? Probably because I am not a man. But then my resentment towards comedy returned. I figured I could kindly remind people who I was and how famous I was. But then something told me I could get famous easily, my job was to stay funny now. I dunno, tired and more tired are a deadly combo.

And yes, maybe I am a tad famous but please give my bank account. However I had some money in my pocket and it was sleeting so I took a cab home.

Currently I am in my house wearing a black teddy and just took a bubble bath. I smell good and inset all your twisted male fantasies. Right now, I am getting ready to watch a Lifetime Movie. Maybe some man will hit a chick with big boobs and then she will hack him up. Hey, she will. It's Lifetime. It gets my rage out during women's history month and the chip off my shoulder about being a woman comedian who gets recognized for being on TV by strangers but yet gets screwed in her own backyard in favor of less deserving male comedians who just happen to be the right gender. Chip on my shoulder all the damn time.

Sometimes I just wish someone would hold me and tell me it's okay. But then I would have to get rid of them once they became too clingy. I am fucking tired. I just need to end this big wet abortion of a blog. Well the middle was good and the end just started to suck. I am FINE (Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional). I just work hard, very hard. So hard my nails are chipping and my mascara runs. I would like a gold star, please!

Of course people want to point out my big ego. They want to point out my fame whoring but they have no clue how much FUCKING WORK AND SHIT I HAVE TO EAT THAT GOES INTO IT BECAUSE MOST OF THE FUCKING TIME THEY ARE FUCKING MEN WITH NOTHING FUCKING TO SAY EXCEPT THEY ARE PISSED I GET TV TIME. I got news for the jealous bitches, yes the women, who diss me and say stuff. IT TAKES A LOT OF WORK TO BE A FUCKING DIVA. OF COURSE YOU COULD NEVER HACK IT BECAUSE YOUR LAZY ASS IS TOO BUSY BEING JEALOUS. JUST REMEMBER YOUR BOYFRIEND WOULD RATHER BE WITH ME FOR A REASON.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available at 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com
E-Book available at Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available in the Spring of 2103
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

My Lil White Fur: Saying Goodbye to Settling

Today I made an impulse purchase. I never do this. My mom actually is more or less likely to buy a new dress to celebrate or mourn. I think this is why she likes my gay friends whenever they meet. Most often, they are wired the same way. The coat, which would have ordinarily been three hundred was only fifty. Going against my belief that lots of money should not be purchased on clothes I went to the ATM and made the buy. Call me shallow. Call me a bitch. Call me a beautiful woman. Maybe I am all of those things.

Around this time two years ago I lost Chacho, a friend who was a spirit kindred to mine. While he had been a street hustler who wore designer labels and could never stay sober and obeyed only the laws he liked, he was a straight shooter which made me respect him. One thing about Chacho was that my primary job as his friend was to make sure people didn't strangle him. The Chach and I were talking once about people who wore fake labels in public and walked around as if they were real. Chacho, who at the time was homeless despite his Gucci said, "Shame on them for settling for fake labels. I would never wear that."

Sure, maybe the boy didn't have a house, could never say no to drugs, and didn't like the law but he was going to leave a pretty corpse. We all have goals I suppose.

When Chacho died, I began to think of all the things he wanted for me, and how proud he had been of my career achievements when he was alive. At the time I was being worked to death as an open mic host. I had made the club a lot of money and put them on national television countless times. I expected a reward, I expected to be treated fairly. Instead, they fired me from my own mic and rehired me at the sister club. In order to preserve an abusive relationship, but one that had to potential for growth, I made my demands as long as I was going to stay. None of them were filled. I was at the end of my rope. All I did was work, earning these people money, and all they did was treat me like a second class citizen.

Afterwards, I was talking to my boss. He said to me, "You should stay and host. You are good at it and that is your job in the club."

"I put them on national television ten times and am more talented than the male headliners you bring in." I pointed out. "And you give me ten check spots and I have ripped the room up each time. Who do I have to blow to get ahead? I think that's how this shithole is run."

My then boss, who knew I was at the end of my rope said, "Sometimes, in this business we aim for the stars but we don't get them. Most people don't get the stars April, and you probably won't. Sometimes-most of the time-you have to settle. You just need to settle and use the mic as your venue."

My jaw dropped. I had just received more television time than any of the regulars in that hell pit ever would. I could also see and hear the spirit of my dead friend Chacho, the friend who had been incensed that he could not join me at Fashion Week because his black market plastic surgery had landed him with a blood clot. The friend who told me to stop dressing like I was broke and poor. The friend who wanted to be someone and tried his damnest by dressing in clothes he couldn't afford and getting plastic surgery from people who were shady. The friend who would demand I tell his family members and strangers about my television time. The friend who couldn't stop using drugs. The friend I had the falling out with and didn't get to say, "I love you but not what you are doing" before he died. The friend who was on the other side with me, watching over me, and now telling me to reach for the stars he never got, to walk the runway he could only dream of. If I was going to honor his memory it would be not to settle.

That evening when I got home I resigned from my post via email. I did so like a lady. I didnt tell the club owner to get fucked like I wanted to. This was a new era of my life. For so long I had settled with these slave drivers. I had done countless late night spots hoping to be promoted because of the good work I did. I had earned them lots of money. Got them lots of publicity. They were a second tier venue anyway, a place where dreams went to settle. Looking back, it felt like they were screwing me, but it was God getting me out of there and taking me somewhere better. It was my friend Chacho with me, letting me know that I was meant to do great things. It was the dreams we shared as we checked out hot guys at the local diner coming true. I was no longer crawling helplessly but walking upright.

Since that time I have not settled and have been damned if I do. Sometimes it has made me look like a bitch. But I am a career woman. Not settling and driving harder than ever has gotten me to places I never dreamed I would go. It has made me dress for success, strive for success, and see things most never dream of seeing.

I have also found out who my friends were and werent in this molting process. On one occasion I was out with an old friend who knew me in my early days of struggle and uncertainty. We were talking about the things that happened with me and the club that I had a falling out with. My friend, who I thought would side with me said, "You know, you have a bit of an ego sometimes. I see your facebook posts and they are a tad arrogant. When you post you aren't just April Brucker: Superstar Wannabe. You are April Brucker sister, daughter, cousin, and friend."

My mouth dropped open. Was this dude for real? Half of those posts were jokes. WOW! He knew me in real time well enough to know that I am hardly arrogant. My true friends know I am hardly arrogant. While I jokingly brag they jokingly bring me down to Earth and we enjoy a laugh. And then it hit me. This particular person had been friends with the person who wandered uncertainly through the desert. This particular person had been friends with the woman who settled. And everytime we hung out up to this point he had found subtle ways to tear me down. I had changed for the better, embracing life and following the path. He had stayed the same, settling at the bottom like all things that settle.

As I walk my path to greatness, sometimes I can be what is perceived to be a bitch. Some of it is because I am a hardworking woman who is determined, and I do not have the shield known as an agent or MANager. Like Charlie Chaplin, I am my own writer, director, performer, and producer. Does it make me tired? Sometimes, but if I want something done right I do it myself. Not everyone likes me. Read my Gawker article. I have a list of enemies miles long. But here is the thing, when I do a show I am not there to be liked by my fellow performers. When I do a play I am not there to be adored by my fellow actors. When I write I do not put the piece out there to be loved by other writers. I am a servant to the people. I will yell and scream until I am front and center and everything is done right on all ends. I will get paid well, and my audience will be happy. This is about them, not my ego. So if I am a bitch I am a bitch. I will wear the name tag in case people ask. It's on my birth certificate. I will proudly legally change my name if that is what I am viewed as.

Some say bitch. I say a business woman and performer who does not settle.

There is one club in Queens where they will never have me because I screamed at a booker who was trying to rip me off, and of course where the head of new talent regularly bad mouths me on gossip sites. There is another club on the East Side that will not have me because the owner and I got into it online because he casually uses the c word slang for women's private parts in casual conversation to refer to the opposite gender. There is a set of clubs where I am not welcome because of the falling out we had after I put them on television, never again. Those doors are closed like coffins. Looking back at it, it is better they did close. Those aren't the homes of top performers and superstars, those are the homes of people who settle. When I have been at those places in the past I have felt like a fish out of water. I was. I don't celebrate bottom feeding. Therefore, they were never going to be kind to me and those places never my constant home.

Then there are the people who tell me, when I get closer to being a superstar, "Be the best you that you can be." Or even worse, "Be happy." That is loser talk and I will tell you why. When someone tells you to be the best you that you can be in relation to success, these are people allergic to achievement and the thought of doing well scares them. They see you doing well, and they don't understand it. They don't want to see you do well. Rather, they want to see you settling with them in Loser Land. Same with the "be happy." They are saying yes to struggle and no to ambition and goal realization. A goal driven individual, especially a woman, scares people.

It's when they turn around and tell you, "You set the bar too high. That is why you are disappointed." No, I didn't set the bar too high. You set the bar too low and dropped the ball on yourself. Just because you dropped the ball on yourself doesn't mean that I have to do the same.

Do I regret my diva like conduct? Only when I get a sore throat. Do I regret not having MANgement? Only when babysitting those around me gets tiresome, but why put it into the hands of some moron who only cares about payment and not product? Do I regret quitting my job at the club that screwed me over? No, no, and no. That disappointment and rejection made me realize that I had settled in their system to be less than my best. When I left I grew a pair of colorful wings and flew for the sky.

I know I sound like a braggart as I talk about all the awesome things I do. But believe you me, if you don't settle life has good things in store for you. There was one story a friend who works with gay youth once told me. This kid was going to the twelve step meetings and living in a car and said, "Maybe God wants me in the car by the river where I live and to have no money." My friend said, "No, God wants you to get your ass out of that car, get some money, and have nice things." I think my friend was right. Whatever is up there wants me to be successful.

So I sit here with my little white fur. Some call me a bitch. Others a diva. I have my share of enemies because I don't settle. So this winter I will risk attack by red spray paint. But I will sashay, making the world my runway. With me will be the spirit of my friend Chacho. With me we will reach for the stars. We will be fashionable. We will do great things. We will not settle.

So what lipstick goes best with an impulse buy?

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Amazon.com


Come to my signing
12-27-12 @ 7
Bethel Park Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA
15102

Walking With Faith

The other day I went to see the show of my friend Billy Hipkins, For the Benefit of Miss Jennie Gourlay. Billy like many theatre professionals has had almost nine lives in the profession. Basically, we have one dream and the universe has another. He has been an actor, dresser for Phantom of the Opera, playwright, back to performer and now solo performer. For as hard as he is on himself, I feel from time to time that he has more of a career than many of the people who are so called stars. Man has done everything.

When you see a friend’s work it is either really good or really bad. There is no in between on the gamut. When it is good you are blown away. When it is bad you congratulate them for “taking a risk.” You tell them it “needs polished.” You want to be honest but not brutally so. After all, they are friends, right? You might need a favor someday-remember?

Billy put so much of himself into the piece. It was funny, poignant, and personal. Billy’s ability to soldier on and wear many hats in the theatre left me feeling inspired. It made me feel as if I could. In the words of Barack Obama, “Yes we can. Yes we can.”

As of late I have been wandering in the land of career uncertainty. While I feel on one hand I should be a part of the New York Comedy Festival, I am still banished from a world I was once a part of. It was a mixture of things that made me become the bastard child. For one, I am a woman which is already a strike. I was told his once by a potential manager. Second, I had a puppet. Third, I was ambitious. That seemed to be a deadly combo for some. Especially the women who think I just simply sleep around and the sexist male headliners who view me as an open pair of legs and luscious pair of lips to give them fallacio when they have little to show as far as instrument and career.

Yes I was banished. I put my home club on TV. They fired me. I was bitter and I still am. Actually bitter is the wrong word. It’s more like I have been fucked hard. Fucked out of what is mine and fucked out of what I believed to be my dreams. Jennie would have had her big night but Lincoln was assassinated. Maybe she knows how I feel. Maybe she doesn’t.

Since being banished from the community I once believed I was a part of, I have done a lot with my life. I wrote a damn book and published it. I also recorded a song that was number one on the internet for five weeks. Not to mention my career as a talking head for younow.com, my series on Koldcast that almost got picked up, and my short that made the Manhattan International Film Festival. In there were my other videos and a musical I collaborated on. I also did some poster girl work, and became number one at my telegram company.

But the question is, where does a former reality tv star go next? Where does a self-published almost star do after she is published and is doing signings? How does she get to the next step? What if she doesn’t get what she wants when she wants it?

I have said this before. I don’t know where to go. Should I start doing standup again, the depressing open mics where I know I don’t belong. Aside from having TV credits and have worked with the best I should not be paying for stage time. Not to mention I am more talented and qualified than the regulars at those second tier clubs where I am seemingly banished from. Sure, I still do alt rooms and stuff, but for the most part don’t step on the stage unless it is a venue that I like, unless it is a show produced by a fan, or if I am getting paid. The club dates aren’t coming in like they once were. Part of me misses not performing as much as I once did and remembers why I loved performing when I hit the stage. Then I remember as I continually get cheated and bumped aside, in part because I am a woman, an independent, ambitious woman, why I don’t do it anymore. But the gift strangles me and sucks the life out of me. I am funny damnit. I am outgoing. They said be me. Well being me got me banished.

One manager I worked under at my old home club, a bottom feeder, told me that we all had dreams in this business and we had to settle. No, you settled, you gave up on yourself. I expected a flagship club to scoop me up. I was funny and on TV. No such luck. Should have been a man. Am I destined to perform again like I once did? I don’t know. Depends on what God wants for me. Sometimes it seems like yes, sometimes it seems like no. The signals are so confusing. Can you be banished and have a home somewhere at the same time? Maybe.

Of course then there is the talking head/personality route which made me realize immediately I wasted a lot of years slaving in the clubs. I was bumped aside for youtube celebrities and people who had nothing to offer but personality. But it also gave me a second breath at life. I had been so angry when my home was the dingy, dark basements. When I was a talking head I was happy and inspiring. Gone was the bleeding angst and in it’s place was a care for young people. The selfishness was replaced with a concern for them, their feelings, their words and their issues. Armed with my puppets I became an activist. I had dreamed of it but never felt the pull. I wasn’t afraid to say that there was something wrong. I was a popular talking head too. But things happened and I took a pay cut because well, they wanted to spread out funding. It was too much of a cut for all the work I did so I said, “Buh bye.”

Part of me wants to go that route again, but I don’t know what to do next. It showed me I could do a syndicated, weekly show and get paid for it. Where to go next with that dream and goal, I don’t know. Despite my chasing no other offers popped up. Maybe if God wants it for me he will throw it in my lap.

Then there is the acting route. I went to college for it, and while some people continue to study I got burnt out on classes. BFA means that either you can act or you cant. How many more classes do you need? I did a lot of acting in college of course, studied with the best teachers, and did a bit of stage out of college as well. My pilot on Koldcast almost got picked up. I did some commercials too. Even had a commercial agent a few years ago. There is a part of me that misses the stage and misses being taken seriously as a performer.

But everyone in NYC is an actor. Everyone does the method. Get me more napkins. Which way to Broadway? I can act quite well but so can everyone else in this city. If God wants that for me he will tell me. He goes in and out with that dream.

Then there is the writing route. I won writing awards in school and initially took to standup because it was a chance to create my own work. I blog all the blessed time and wrote  a book. Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a career as a screenwriter and novelist. I am good at it. While my writing is not for everyone, an artist’s paintings aren’t for everyone as well. It would be cool to write for Letterman or Conan or even weekly on a sit com. Would love a weekly column somewhere as well. I could do gigs if I wanted to, or if I didn’t want to that would be cool as well. People respect you more as a writer. They believe you are smart.

Drawback, there is a part of me that loves being onstage and I could never give that up. End of story. Who says I have to? Still, in a way it feels like you do. Plus again, it’s another field where there are a million people going for the same spot.

Lastly, there is music, the venture I got into this past year. Where my song was number one on the internet for five weeks. Where I surprised myself. While it should have been obvious because of my job as a telegram person, I never knew I had the voice I did. My songs sounded so good people wondered why I wasted my time with the comedy. I did too and did a lot of music. It was fun. It was great.

But the drawback is that I actually have no musical talent naturally. My cousin is a genius with the trumpet.I can barely read music. Not to mention competition of the people who are supremely talented is steep.

But seeing Billy made me realize one thing, everyone’s journey is their own. Billy trusted the process and had an idea. He wrote it, performed it, reworked it, performed it again and it has taken on a life of it’s own. Billy has his feelings about his career. His life. He has poured himself into this piece and it is paying off.

Billy is having his day and his recognition as a performer. He has taken the reigns and it is marvelous. As I see him ask if Jennie Gourlay is happy and examine her life and make an impromptu hoop skirt from the match box track, I feel inspired. Not just to create but to trust the journey. Billy trusted the journey as he had all his lives in theatre. All the different facets of being a theatre professional. He has embraced soldiering on,and therefore I embrace it.

I don’t ask where to go next. Now I know to trust my gut and follow the light. Billy trusted his gut and followed the light. Whether God wants me to be an actress, ventriloquist, comedian, singer or writer or all at once, I have to stop asking questions and trust. I can’t ask where to go but just ask to be guided and I will follow the spirit wherever it takes me.  I cannot question the destination but rather embrace the journey. I can't keep shaking my finger when I don't get what I want but rather just be thankful for what I have, graciously accept what I need, and be open to all my nine lives whatever they are. Billy has been and the returns are marvelous.

His journey with this piece has been a rollercoaster,sometimes happy and sometimes frustrating, but it has been worth it had as a result he has a brilliant one man show. Props to him. He is an example to all young performers.

Much like Billy Hipkins I will walk with faith.

Love

April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

 

Come to my signing tomorrow

Hoboken

Symposia Books

510 Washington St

7pm xoxoxo

A Seperate Peace

I recently have been delving back into standup and it has been a weird experience. Not good, not bad, just different coming back. There was a time in my life where I would live and die by the punchline of the joke and the audience reaction. Now I find myself not resenting the art form, not embracing it, but rather not really caring.

About a week ago I did a show in Brooklyn for a small crowd and I found I did an up and down set but didn’t care. I had fun chilling with them afterward and they told me about a roommate of theirs who was trying to be a comedian at one point. Then I did another small show where I actually killed because I was riffing. It was good for my self esteem. It showed me perhaps I still had it. Then I did a show last night for the kids at FIT. It was the end of a long night and they had been there for several hours. By the time they got me they were pleasant, but they wanted to go home. It was a good show, but I felt as if I could have done better. A lot of me knows what I am capable of doing and that’s why it killed me. But there was this nagging voice, “You could have done better.”

It was nice seeing people that I hadnt seen in a while. The weird thing about not being in the clubs is that you don’t see people or meet people in the circuit. But it was good seeing Amy Beckerman who put the event together and it was a successful night. It was fun meeting her dog Porkchop and having Porkchop meet May…..

I have come to a sort of a separate peace with standup. I am not one of the cool kids who hangs out and effortlessly gets spots at Carolines. I will never be the top of the heap and win the “respect” of my peer group. The things that get me attention onstage are my willingness to be different and do anything. I am not known as a good writer or will probably never be saluted as a comics comic. I am a prop act, the most abhorrent in their opinion. I don’t make friends with the “right people” nor will I ever. I don’t have enough chips on my shoulder to be a “good comic.”

However at the same time I have stopped giving a shit about making friends with the right people. While the politics give me a headache I don’t care about getting an effortless spot at Carolines because I am friends with the right people. I don’t even care about the “respect” of my peer group. About a year ago I received more TV air time than any of them will in their entire careers. Fuck being the comics comic, no one ever knows the name of the comics comic. Hell I left that mindset in the dust long ago. I want to be famous. Shoot me for having ambition. When is the last time someone stopped you for a fan photo?

At the same time I still want to be a good comic and want to do what it takes in order to get that respect. I want to be one of the cool kids and sometimes even want to placate to them. Maybe I should talk about boring stuff or go on about my period like a lot of other female comedians. Did I say I was at a weird place? Yeah, I am honest. At least I have that going for me in this game. And maybe I will never be rated as one of the best comedians or one of the best female comedians but I no longer find myself caring. I don’t freaking know. Weird place…

On the other hand, things have been popping with the talk show. Last week at one point we had as many as two hundred people watching in our chat. I have been devoting all my time and energy on that as well as my advice column to the exclusion of all other things. I book guests, dream up new themes, host, and manage my peeps in my house. Sure it is work hosting people every week but it gives me an excuse to clean. Someone once told me that when something is a struggle it means you shouldn’t be doing it. It’s your will and not the universe’s will for you. And this, for as hard as it is to get off the ground, seems to be as smooth as butter.

I actually find I am a good host. I keep things moving a long and treat my guests with kindness as I keep everyone laughing. I am much better at that than I ever was as a standup and truth be told, I am okay with it. A few months ago when I left standup altogether I lamented it was a waste of time. My mom pointed out that it wasn’t a waste of time at all and that if I hadnt spent the time and energy I did in the clubs the doors wouldn’t have opened the way they did and I wouldn’t be hosting the talk show that I am now. Rather standup was a springboard not the final destination. Did I mention my mom is the smartest woman I know?

The people at YouNow are pleased with what I am doing as far as the show goes and how things are coming together. Yes I am not rolling in the dough but this past year I have seen glimpses of financial security. Things are starting to come together and for me the talk show is the next right thing. I feel like I am moving in a positive direction and keeping the momentum going rather than letting my puppet children and myself die the slow, painful death a reality TV star could.

At this point it looks like I am meant to host this talk show and do the standup as a means to stretch myself and make myself visible rather than to make that my ultimate destination. I like the talk show, I like the prospect of publishing a book, and I like making music. These things are coming easy to me. The standup never did.

They say the universe tells you where you are meant to be and maybe I have seen the light. Maybe the light is the talk show and maybe I have given the standup dream the ultimate light. Sure I will take the stage time when given it but I am not scrapping for it anymore. Did I think I would be saying this when I was twenty four, living hand to mouth, sleeping in my clothes because I got home late for a set, and spending every weekend on the road? Hell no. But I am saying it now.

Meet April Brucker: Talk Show Host, Actress, Ventriloquist, Comedian, Author, Singer and Advice Columnist. Did I forget happy and successful person? Love April

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