Shakespeare and Other Things

I am doing Shakespeare this weekend for the first time in years. There is part of me that's excited and part of me that's nervous. I remember being half decent with the language, but the words were always what got in my way. While I loved Shakespeare I was never a Shakespearian actor if you get my drift.

I started out wanting to be a classical actor of some sort. In high school I even interned for a summer with a classical stage company downtown. When college started I was certain I wanted to be a Shakespearian actor. Sure, I did the ventriloquism, but the classics were going to be my home. I loved history and understood the text. My mother also supported these ambitions as she felt I had a gift with language and Shakespeare. We even toyed with the idea of me studying Shakespeare abroad. I was stoked and sure.

Some of my acting teachers, not so much. One in particular really harshed my mellow. She was actually a smart lady who had done every Shakespeare show there was. Although we didn't get along, I always admired her knowledge. However, she was carrying her own baggage to the teaching experience. A refugee from both a classical stage company that no longer existed and a school which she was an alumni and teacher that closed it's doors, she was bitter and burned out. While I have faith she loved and appreciated the teaching aspect, the administrative part of her job killed her soul, and she seemed miserable and trapped. Older students confirmed my suspicion. She said to me, "April, my class is for classical actors. That's not you."

The summer after I left her class, I became more immersed in comedy and ventriloquism. It seemed these things were going to be my tickets and perhaps she was right, I wasn't a classical actor. If being a classical actor meant being an unpleasant bitch I was good with it.

However, the next term I had another instructor who rocked for lack of a better word. He admittedly only taught acting for the paycheck and retired, spending all of his energy gigging with his rockband. We often joked about the amount of coke he did back in the day, and we all felt bad until he told us how much coke he did back in the day and it was a lot let me tell you. As an assignment I had to do Queen Gertrude. I did it for his class with the broken notion that Shakespeare wasn't for me. However, my teacher disagreed.

He gave me a Sense Memory exercise in which Queen Gertrude was drunk. I killed it. Not only was it a lot of fun,but he told me I had a gift with the language and I did in fact have a future with Shakespeare.

The brief reunion didn't last. While I had the opportunity to study in England, because of some schedule changes it made it difficult. Plus my mom went from being stoked about it to being frightened of terrorists and feared I would die overseas. I was discovering my real strengths were my ventriloquism, comedy, and creating my own original material anyway. Sure, I loved Shakespeare but it didn't seem to be in the cards.

This notion was echoed further after college as a lot of classical theatre requires a lot of long hours, is non-equity and offers no pay. Plus I was passionate about the ventriloquism and comedy, figuring those were my tickets. As time wore on, I wandered farther and farther away from classical let alone legit theatre. It wasn't going to be home and that was okay. I could pull it out of my hat if need be, but it wasn't what was going to bring me to the next level for the time being.

Undergrad saw me discover my ability to write for the stage. While I was discovering my wings as a playwright, jokes were more my thing and that gave way to essays and ultimately a book. I tried adapting my work to screen but was miserable at it. So I gave up, until some life events that you might know about changed everything. These saw me rededicated to craft, getting a master's, and reading all the texts I had neglected since college.

When I studied screenwriting, I wanted to give actors material they loved, as no amount of good acting can be overcome by horrendous writing. Material that could show off their strengths and do the work for them so they could play.......like SHAKESPEARE. This meant getting my ass kicked again in acting class, and signing up for a SHAKESPEARE class. Yes, I actually applied and I figured if they payment went through they wouldn't read my application. To my pleasant surprise and chagrin they read my application.

(AHHHHHH!!!!).

So long story short, this weekend, I am back to one of my first loves. At first it was daunting but I remembered to get out my dictionary. (Something my unpleasant teacher pounded). But I also remembered my Sense Memory. (Something from the one I adore). I forgot how much FUN this was. So yes, I am excited and a tad nervous.

"Anon, anon I pray you remember the porter!"

Heat of the Moment (Asia)

The other day I was feeling low. This was after several days of feeling unbelievably good after a rather shitty fall. A clip of mine aired on television. I was a show I filmed as I wasn't feeling particularly good and it seemed everything was imploding around me. It was God throwing me a bone. Then I found out I was receiving an award. More on that later. Both seemed good.

But then there was that one thing I couldn't do. That one thing I haven't gotten.

I have been on television a gazillion times but have never managed to get a reoccurring role let alone have my own show. I have published two books but have never managed to snag a bestseller. I have pitched shows but never sold an idea. I have done modelling assignments but have never had a centerfold. I have done some great sets but I am not a headliner who regularly packs them in. I have known resident acts on the strip and have performed there but have never been a resident act.

I have a whole list of almost but nevers.

It's not good. It's not bad. It just is.

Grad school is going well. I was divided as to go and when as I did undergrad in three years. While I am glad I saved my parents dough I always felt like I rushed through. I also did some college as I did high school and life always seemed like a treadmill to the next place and I could never be where I was and enjoy it. I told myself if I did grad school I wanted to enjoy it and now I am. I wish I would have gone sooner but now I am.

Yet I always feel like I am juggling and sometimes dropping. There are times these last few months where my plate has felt so full I cannot digest what's in front of me. I know I am not the first woman to get a masters and to work. Yet it feel like somehow, there is never enough time or money or this or that.

My advocacy has been keeping me busy. I took part in an event for World AIDS Day, or at least the week of. It was a panel where we talked about Crystal Meth and HIV in the black/Latinx gay community. The panel was rewarding and I felt pumped about the dialogue around recharge.

But I couldn't contribute as much because I was lead editor for a contest, in two plays, staging my show for a festival, and partaking in a project I eventually quit because the director was a dick. But I was working and performing and then there was school. Yet I wasn't there more and I let AIDS down.

I got a job and couldn't march on World AIDS Day, and I had promised I would be there. To me my word is everything. Again I felt like I let AIDS down.

These thoughts raced through my mind today and then I remembered the Asia lyric from the song Heat of the Moment, "Teenage ambitions you remember well......"

The truth is, I had always dreamed of coming to NYU and performing. I wanted to be bicoastal in Vegas and LA and now I am. I am getting the masters I always wanted to. I wanted to write and I wrote two books. RENT was one of my favorite soundtracks and not only did I live in the East Village, but I am an activist as well as an artist and am becoming with ACT UP.

My almosts and nevers could change. There is still time, I am not dead. I am more adult as a grad student, and we have to grow to learn to be where our feet are. I am involved not only with ACT UP, but have marched against Trump. It is in part because I have known people affected by HIV/AIDS and his policies would hurt them as well as women, children, and any other vulnerable population. I didn't fail AIDS. I just had to pay my rent. Did I say RENT......heh......

I also know there are people who never expected me to make it this far. There are some folks who I will not name because they do not matter who wrote me off. As I wake up each day and fight the good fight, I know I haven't failed.

Sure, I am hard on myself, but the important part is that I haven't quit. Did I mention Legally Blonde was a good movie? Yeah, I think I need to watch more comedy.



www.AprilBrucker.TV

Towel Juggling

DING DONG!” You're just getting out of the shower and you have unexpected company. Is it the pizza that you ordered more than an hour ago, which you know darn well is now free? Maybe it’s the acceptance letter from the school of your dreams. Or perhaps it’s Publisher’s Clearinghouse with that big check. As you sprint to the door, there’s only one problem: Your towel. As you Kramer-slide to the door, you fear the worst as the towel starts to slide towards the floor. Reaching for the door knob, nightmares flash through your mind. You're about to bare your soul and so much more to the ex-con pizza delivery guy. The mailman might want to deliver more than just a letter. And Publisher’s Clearinghouse will have a camera crew; good luck explaining that to mom. Fear not! Actress and comedienne April Brucker has the perfect solution that will save your brass, butt and bosom all at the same time: The Art of Towel Juggling! Give it a try and post your towel juggling video (Tag: Towel Juggling). Who knows? Towel juggling contests just might replace Spring break wet t-shirt contests! For more on April Brucker, visit her official website: http://AprilBrucker.TV.

Love Is In the Air (John Paul Young)

A little over two years ago, I ended a relationship with a partner who was mentally ill. When it dissolved into chaos as these things typically do with a person who refuses to seek treatment and self-medicates with narcotics, I found myself feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

Combat related PTSD is a hard nut to wrap. Civilian shinks have a hard time treating it let alone understanding it. The VA can help them, but it's badly handled and backed up. Not to mention lots of times vets hate hospitals and like many trauma sufferers, prefer being homeless because being homeless means not having to face their triggers.

My support system was amazing. I went from wanting to smash everything in the room to crying all the time over his loss. A bad relationship is like a limb with gangrene. You know you need to lose it to live, but you want to fight to keep your arm even if there are maggots crawling out of it. One friend in particular said it best, "April, he's your knight of shining armor in a suit of armor that he stole!"

When my ex left, things initially sucked. They always do. But then I discovered a renewed love for comedy. I was studying joke writing like I never had before. I was pounding open mics like a young comedian who had never been on TV, and if she was she was standing on her friend's TV set. I was watching films of old master ventriloquists. I also developed Donald J. Tramp.

I also began to explore life on my own. This was scary but this also meant not being chained to a rock. While a partner can be a rock in a good way they can also weigh you down. This meant going to the RNC as a spokes person for an anti-Trump group, being credentialed press at the debates, and work shopping a one woman show. This also meant mastering releasing a body positive book, a line of merchandise, mastering full body puppetry, and applying for my dream MFA program in creative writing.

I would have been doing none of these things if I was still with my ex. Instead, I would have been a full time caretaker to a partner who refused to seek treatment. I would have continued to justify my codependency at the sake of my own self-preservation and sanity. I would have been "that woman."

I have a great support system around me. Whether it's my mom who gives my phone number and email address to strangers bragging about my status as a celestial being. Or my two straight male housemates who are dedicated to their art and families. Or my wonderful peeps from my Monday night acting class who love comedy as much as I do. Or my friend's from the stand-up world who agonize over every punchline. Or my friends from ACT UP who are as passionate about queer politics and queer identity as I am. Or my friends from my haunted house who I miss dearly and chat with on facebook and instagram. Or my friends from my master's program who are passionate about social justice and the written word like I am. Or my friends who remembered to say Happy Valentine's Day. Or my friends who laugh at my jokes. Or my one friend in particular who sent me flowers and listens to all my dreams no matter how stupid they are. Or my boss who lets me chase my dreams and pays me and hasn't fired me yet. Or my favorite Marine or favorite Mass-hole or favorite Frank Logan or favorite anyone and everyone.

I don't need a label to define me in any way, shape, or form. Whether it is this, that, or the other. I don't have to label the way I live or love as long as I am safe and happy.

I wish the same for you, too.

Dancing With Myself (Billy Idol)

This past Friday night I felt myself drained. Thursday had been an event for a potential job. While it was awesome, there was  a lot of press there and it was a lot of pressure to look great and to be on. Looking great and being on aren’t the issues, it’s saying the right thing. I tend to put my foot in my mouth a lot. I know that about myself. I have been searching for editors for my book. That has been a task. There is one who is good but she doesn’t believe in returning emails. While the injuries are getting better, they still plague me making my knees hurt. While I was kickboxing again this week, I wasn’t in shape for the two hour class our gym does on Fridays. Sorry, Jeanene will be back next week.

I also found myself a little down and out and depressed. April had been an odd month with the telegrams. There was Easter/Passover in the same time span which put everyone out of commission. I would have gone home except I had jury duty and didn’t know what was going to happen. So that took me off the rotation for a few days. Then someone pulled some shade for a free show, and while my boss sided with me and I proved myself, it shook him up. But we are good again….I think. Although the telegrams as well as other things are starting to pick up, I had no deliveries. I also felt down and out because I had not done a magazine interview in two weeks. The job I am sort of starting, we don’t meet until next week, it will be great, more on that later. If it goes through it will be good for my career. The pilot I should have gotten didn’t happen, and that commercial that would have been great money didn’t happen either.

To top it off, Holden Caulfield called me high as a kite from Hawaii with some story about how he was working for a rich woman as old as Dimsdale, the comedy legend I once dated. He needed my help with a flier and would Western Union me money and blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, Hawaii probably has a Kinkos. Not to mention that he has a laptop and this old woman, if she is as rich and has the club he says she has, owns a printer. Bottom line, it was a scheme to get me to come rescue him from the rent boy lifestyle he is living. What makes it so hard is not that I don’t care, it’s that I do care and I know who he is deep down. Unfortunately, he refuses to get sober and to take his much needed medication. On top of that, he sounded like he had been on something and hadn’t slept in days. He was trying much too hard to sound sober.

After that I found myself malcontent, examining my whole life. These days, although I’ll do a club date if it comes my way, standup is not the focus it once was. Between the politics, the fight for stage time, and the fact that as a woman you have three strikes against you I got sick of it. Basically, between the rotting in basements hoping to get better and then hoping that being a good comedian will be enough to get me where I needed to go I just got burnt out. I guess what really did it was when I did the TLC show with my little puppet children, I figured the doors to the art form I had busted my ass in for so long would open. Instead, I was fired from the open mic I hosted because I wasn’t there enough. (In between being on the Today Show and performing for royalty I didn’t have time to do a freebee). The club doors seemed to slam shut because there were either attitudes about what I did or I wasn’t a member of the anointed for the most part boys club. So I found myself wondering if I had wasted my ambition and my early twenties on a thankless pipe dream.

I found myself wondering what I could have done with all those nights I wasted onstage. Maybe I could have been dating, finding love? Or better yet, spending my food money on food instead of stage time? I secretly hoped that I would be “more respected” in the comedy world than I am now. Oops, unless you are boring and fit in a niche that how you earn respect. Plus standup is a dying art form as it is. Most of the time, people who get the good spots anywhere have a youtube following or have been around so long they are almost dead. It’s not about being funny. I should have dated more, found myself.

That’s when it occurred to me to take myself out on a date.

I put on a nice, spring dress. Over my dress, I dawned a gold sweater seemingly spun by Rumple himself. In case I was cold, I put on my designer jacket, payment for a gig as a result of being a reality TV star, and off I went. Like a true Libra contrarian, I took forever to find a restaurant. I didn’t want to eat at a chain, many of the sushi places were too expensive anyway, and Chipotle is not date food. I ended up going to Goodburger. Although it was a chain, I had a really good burger and fries. It was just me.

There was no man to judge me for the way I dressed, or eyed me like a medium rare burger in hopes that he could take a bite. There was no stranger, fixed up with blind, who it could be hit or miss with. There were no topics that were so hot that they couldn’t be touched with a poker, nor was there a man scrutinizing me for all the mistakes I have made. There was no feeling less than because it was one set of rules for him and another for me, making it all too painfully obvious that it is a man’s world and his game; as an object he considers servile I must make the best of it. There was no being called a feminazi for my rhetoric, because maybe I am crazy and maybe he doesn’t view me as servile. There was no telling him what an awful butler I would be and that I didn’t own sexy lingerie. There was no feeling like he was fixing to reject me, because that is the way men roll. There was no jealous former flame, popping up to make things awkward.

I liked my date.

I really liked my date.

She was great company.

I ended up walking around Washington Square Park after finishing my high fat treat to myself. The trees and street lamps lit my way. I thought about the month. Despite being barren financially, I have had a lot of good opportunities. For one I am Panic Girl, the logo for a publishing company and book series for young women. I also am potentially starting a job spotlighting my ventriloquism, and so far my potential new bosses like what they see. I am also about to publish a book about my life as a singing telegram delivery person. I have four songs that have received radio airplay, and am a leap away from terrestrial radio. One of my projects is going to festivals. I did two magazine interviews. Yes, the pilots didn’t happen but I was close which means something will happen soon. That’s when I realized that while standup might not be the focus that it once was, it opened the doors for me. Because of standup comedy the doors opened to the reality show spotlighting my talents as a ventriloquist. Because of standup comedy I could handle any audience, making me a hit on live webcam broadcasts as a talking head garnering me fans around the world. Because of standup I am quick on my feet, and people recognize me from TV because they “love my act.”

Because of standup, when I was massacred on live message boards there were those who followed my career in the clubs jumping to my defense, not only defending me as an artist but as a person saying that I was one of the hardest workers that they had ever seen. Because of standup, and fellow comedians who work in production, I have gotten auditions and jobs because they have vouched for me not just as a talent but as a human being. Yes, standup might not be the focus it once was but it was hardly a waste of time. It was a necessity.

Plus it was a way to use my talents as a performer and a writer, something acting never would have let me do in a million years. Maybe it was like the starter car, it got me where I needed to go and now it’s time for the designer model.

So I did what a guy was to an annoying girl, I told myself to shut the hell up.

Then I thought about going to an indie theatre to see an art house film. There was nothing I wanted to see. That’s when I decided to call it a night. So I walked myself to the nearest deli and purchased a container of Cookies and Milk Iced Cream, and then watched a 48 Hours Mystery about some serial killer. I didn’t put my arm around myself, that would have been awkward. I almost thought about getting Don Juan, my Cassanova in my puppet family, to hit on me. That too would have been awkward. Instead it was just me, not some moron who learned to walk upright last week, and not me slapping his hand because it was wandering somewhere it need  not go.

In my early twenties, I wanted a man. The first time it was a disaster that resulted in a separate mailing address. The second time, the time I was supposed to trust again, he turned out to be the biggest liar I have ever met. Now I like being alone. I don’t care if I ever get married. While I loved Holden Caulfield, I knew it would have never worked. In my early twenties I would have tried to save him, marry him. But now I am better about stepping away.

I know it is me and my puppet children, my puppet children and I, against the world. We are the happiest we have ever been.

I took myself on a date and had a great night. Today I will text myself to tell me what a great time I had. Hey, it’s ten steps ahead of most of the men out there. So fellas, learn some manners.

Love, April