Blood and Guts

I am single. Lately it has been crossing my mind because it has been forever and a day since I had a lover. Yeah, I have had many an offer. There are the horny homeless men who promise to take me into their cardboard box and take me no where. Pickup lines include, “Girl, I wanna rip that shit up.”

Then there are the fan letters I get. Most are lovely,but every once in a while I get one that is special to say the least. One man wrote me that he pictured himself standing outside my window watching me take my clothes off. Note to self, he is probably purchasing a ski mask somewhere as we speak. Perhaps chloroform too. For the most part I avoid dating fans. It just is sticky. Plus there is a part of me that likes the fact they write letters to the person they want me to be, not the person I actually am. Yeah, I am kinda boring. The girl on youtube, stage, and television isn’t. The girl who writes books is pretty and smart. More often than not I chew pebbles and wonder why they are crunchy. Yeah, I ruined my own illusion there.

Of course there are the dudes, the real ones, that are actually worth something. They are a dime a dozen. More often than not I scare them off. Some of it is my career choice and the fact I am never around. Then there is the fact that I am quite independent, I don’t need a man. Oh, and then I have a life that would kill most people so they are kind of out.

The thing about relationships is at the beginning they are like a Disney movie. Everyone is skipping around in love with the idea of being in love. Prince Charming is still a cartoon. He has still saved me. He is perfect in every way. Oh, and so much better than the last evil magician that trapped me in his castle aka my ex. The absolute spirit animal without any flaws, I find myself planning the wedding and then purchasing the cemetery plots side by side in the first week. Is it psychotic, yeah. But I am a woman. No, I don’t actually do it. I am kidding but you get the just of what I am saying. (Amy Schumer did it for real on her show though).

Hey, the dudes are asking themselves, “Wow, she looks hot. Does she do anal?” So I am allowed to have some evil plans of my own thank you very much.

The honeymoon ends though. Happily ever after is when the book closes and shit becomes real. We all transform into our true asshole, selfish fuck face selves. Gone is the wizened version of Prince Charming and here he is replaced by a real man. Yeah, he has his good points but he also has faults and flaws. Good new is, so do I. Yes, I have relationship issues. Yes, those damn pesky things. The Baby Ruth in a swimming pool. I know I should cut myself a break because my partner is less than perfect himself. Still when my issues come out, it is a test.Their issues come out too. Here’s the rub, sometimes our issues are like gasoline and fire making a shit mess of everything in a catastrophic explosion.

At the beginning a dude likes a smart female companion until she is smarter than him, especially in front of his friends. A dude also likes a woman with political passions, until she tells his best friend what a fucking dumbass he is. I have done this too. The activist is fun until she is fighting, biting your head off, and then some. Many don’t understand my need to continually speak out against dating violence, especially the men I date. They wonder why I “can’t get over it.” Worse yet, they label me a man hater and want to be the one who rocks my world and is different. Make me want to fucking vomit. Or then there is my work as a teaching artist to the artistically underserved children in bad neighborhoods and drug addicts in rehab centers. There are the dudes who’s idiot friends quip that my work could get me robbed. Maybe it could, but I do it because these people need a voice and they matter. Then they say I should let my man be a man, and that I don’t appreciate him as a man and all that happy horse shit. That my job is just to sit there and suck his dick as I wait on him hand and foot. Homeboy please.

If we are able to survive that hurdle it’s whether I can survive their crap. Yes, I am talking family members that should be out of a horror movie mixed with dark comedic elements. I have enough of those, what makes you think I want yours? Or then there is their familial drama. I have my own, again I don’t want yours. I understand you have a few family members that have tested the judicial system or have done drug treatment. So have I. That doesn’t mean I am comfortable with them sleeping on your couch and using me as a job reference. And then there is your female friend. Yes, the one who was such a slut she is no longer allowed in Ann Arbor because she slept her way through the whole town so now she is rooming with you. You know, the one that wants you and kicked her dog down the stairs to get your attention. She gives me the creeps and I don’t know how she has so much sex cause she is ugly. No wonder your alcoholic father beat you. I would drink and beat you if you were my kid too. Yeah, your mother emasculated you. But you are an adult. Grow a pair, Sir.

Yeah, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass.

On top of that I love my space and hate when people get too close to me. I like having my life my own, and once you have a lover you have to share that with someone else. Translated, they know everything. Men are sore losers and more often than not use it against you when they can. A few of my exes have. Then again it was the honeymoon before I got to know Casanova Brown. Yes, before we broke up and I had the town painted red with my name by McFuckhead McPhee.

My part in this is the petty shit makes me insecure. I hide the stupidest crap because I am that scared of rejection when most of the time it is no big deal. For instance, I am not the best house keeper. My stove scares me so I am a microwave cook. Sometimes I forget to wear deodorant because I am in a hurry. I am deathly afraid of dogs but am getting better. I really am quite lame, love nonfiction documentaries, and am pretty much a homebody. I hate loud parties with lots of noise, and many of the personalities there overwhelm me. I am a nondrinker and yes, most of the time I hate your friends. I really don’t get along with other women at first, so don’t match me with your boy’s girl. Most of the time I am all feelings and raw emotion, which is my best and worst quality all in one. Oh and I am pretty awkward too. So much for cool, chic, and pretty. I also have a shitload of trust issues and know you will cheat so go fuck the beef cookie please.

I picture it in my mind. Everyone who has ever dated me is gathered at a table. Yes, they let some of them out of prison and drug rehab for this  occasion. They are talking shit about me and our time together. They are talking about my intimacy, trust, and commitment issues. They are talking about how it ended like a grenade explosion. If anyone knows where the meeting is happening, let me know so I can purposely avoid the location. There is one ex that won’t be present. His current partner will be there. She will have a chart with my outline, highlighting the kill points on my person. Hey, she has been ranting about hating me for nearly eighteen months. Glad she is taking some action.

Either way, I don’t think I will be getting into a relationship anytime soon. My trash romance novels and my fake flames will fuck my brains out in my mind’s eye. I will rip my blood and guts out on paper, onstage, and in my videos.

I haven’t met a person worthy of them yet.

Love

April

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

www.aprilbrucker.com

Come see me for my DVD taping April 22nd at 7pm

Metropolitan Room 34 W. 22nd st

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