I Can Fly (Rainey)

Yesterday I broke a Guinness Book Record as a part of the World’s Longest Variety Show. Leading up to the show I felt a lot of things, and there was not one word to describe fully everything that was going through my mind. Heck, one word would have been unfair. A thousand words too many, but when words are your friend and your napalm and elixir against the unforgiving world, the one that tries to steal the ideas of writers and comedians if it doesn’t silence them outright, things get confusing.

For starters I felt crazy. Yes, I had been going since Christmas and I recently discovered a problematic young woman had been trying to pass my work off as her own, read last blog. Another word of course would be excited, because I was about to break a world record, DUH! Of course a third adjective would be nervous, because of some writing work and film projects I have not been on stage as much. Then there is the term humbled, because I am part of such a large group effort of people who do what they love, chased their passion to the Big Apple, and continue to chase that dream. I also say flattered, because I was on the show with some seriously well known performers and cabaret legends. Thus I cannot leave out the word magical, because I was going back to the Metropolitan Room, the place where I filmed my DVD.

Then later in the day, as I got ready for my show, another word that entered the trajectory became bittersweet. Yesterday, I got an update from an acquaintance from another part of my past. It is one that I no longer associate with, and consider myself removed from the people in it. This particular woman was on a bad trajectory when I knew her, and I wasn’t in the best place either. I always considered her a nice person, and although we were never really close she was a friend on a day when I needed one. However, my life started to crash and burn, and I made a decision to change my ways.

 She didn’t. Without getting into detail because I risk being judgmental, her life is a real shit show.

It made me sad because she is truly a good person, and never slighted me in any way. Can’t say the same for everyone I meet. Also, it was a punch in the gut because my life could have easily gone the same way. It was like being sucked into a terrifying portal, a Choose Your Own Adventure Book from the deepest darkest pits of hell. Yes, the one where I had chosen to stay with the abusive fiancé and watched my life spiral from there. Yes, that ending. To say it didn’t make me ill, another word, ill, was an understatement. It also made me happy I had taken the better turn when confronted with that fork in the road.

When I got to The Metropolitan Room, the place was abuzz with performers and such. We were breaking a record. Apparently, they had been going since the night before, and there had been people performing around the clock. Some had been by earlier, and came back to support. I heard stories of people performing at 3 AM, 5:30 AM, my friend Bob Greenberg was there when the record was broken at 7 AM. The whole time the show was being broadcast around the world. Heck, some audience had been there for hours on end.

I made my way downstairs, because the room was being flipped after Marilyn Maye’s performance. While I didn’t get a chance to talk to her because of the commotion that comes with changing a room and after show fanfare, I went downstairs. There was comedy. Yes, comedy. This had been a long comedy show.

I remembered the comedy marathons during my earlier days. Once upon a time, I had hosted an open mic at a comedy club. In exchange I got a weekly spot on a bringer which already says nightmare. Anyway, after the bringer the show would change emcees and then bleed into regular club spots of fledglings who were trying to earn their wings like I was. The show could go on for anywhere from 4-5 hours. To say it was brutal was an understatement. There were the comedians who just died with the crowd. Others abandoned ship and simply just talked to the people. Then there were those who brought the energy and did alright, but it was a fight. I would have liked to say I was always the third, but not so. It’s tough to kill when they are already at the morgue.

To their credit, the crowd was engaged, but the crowd was trying to laugh but just couldn’t. They were worn out. They were beat. They were tired. This was truly the show that never ended. Then again, we were breaking a world record by not stopping.

During my waiting, I reconnected with an old friend of mine, Jack. I hadn’t seen Jack in a while, and the last time I saw Jack his life was hitting the skids similar to my old acquaintance’s. However, Jack looked good. So good I almost didn’t recognize him. He gave me a hug and mentioned after taking a break to get it together, he was singing again. Seeing Jack so happy and together not only made me proud, but also assuaged the guilt I felt about not taking the wrong door. Actually maybe guilt is not the right word. For someone that claims to know what to say and how to say it, there was nothing to describe the pang in my stomach when confronted with where my life could have headed. Jack had taken the same door I had. Like myself, Jack decided he had enough and took the fork in the road that led him in the right direction. It didn’t appear Jack was looking back, and I couldn’t either.

Jack sang, and rocked the house. I had always heard him talk about his love of music, but never knew he was as talented as he was. Apparently Jack had also won a cabaret honor. I was honored to call him my friend. Wow. And here we were, breaking a world record together.

I studied the crowd, these were cabaret people. A large majority were well-educated with a narcissistic edge. They knew theatre and they could answer any Sondheim Quiz on Buzzfeed. If that wasn’t enough, some were unemployed theatre professionals. Schooled in their craft but without a gig, they scrutinized every angle of your performance. I felt it. I felt the bitchy middle school girl eyes they gave each performer. The hosts were all cabaret people as well. Shit, they were going to hate me. The whole world was going to see it, too.

I thought about it again and again. They were going to hate me.

Just then I saw one who reminded me of a woman I delivered a singing telegram to. Then I remembered all my telegramming adventures. There were some people that were harder than others, but because of my day job I am rather fast on my feet and can make any performance situation work. I know I sound like an egomaniac, but it’s true. Note, some are MUCH SMOOTHER than others. However, it is a reminder that everyone does need to laugh no matter who they are, and wants to do so no matter how much they do or don’t  admit it.

Then I also remembered this past year I had been embraced by the cabaret world in a way I never thought I was going to be. Not only had I begun performing in their venues more regularly, but I had done a good show and was treated very well. Oh, and I had been highlighted in several publications in that genre. To say that the insiders had supported me would be an understatement.

I took a breath. Now I wanted to go onstage and rock it. Sure, sometimes there were telegram deliveries that were harder than others. Then there were the interminable comedy shows that went on forever. Ha! While this record breaking show wasn’t ending for sometime, at least there was actual talent on this lineup. The best part was, I was performing alongside some legends and damnit I belonged.

My name was called and I took the stage. I did some crowd work to wake the people up. Then I cracked a few jokes. They were laughing. Okay. Then I asked, “Do you have any roommates?” And got no answer. Dead silence. They got the cabaret crowd look where when you lose them, they are like bodies lost at sea. You might never get them back.

I lost them. Shit. Then again, they were kind of tired. Just then, a female cabaret singer said, “Yes, I have one.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s my husband.” She responded. The place laughed.

“Do you like him?” I inquired.

“He’s been doing the same job for 32 years…..I needed to give you something to work with.” The place laughed again. Okay. Sigh. Saved.

Then I brought May out. The first few seconds were dicey. This was an odd hour and the puppet might weird the people out. Our first two jokes got eh. Then we got rolling and we got them. They liked two jokes, but then they didn’t like another. We just acknowledged that they didn’t like the joke, and when we did that, it got a laugh. Then we got them again. Then we lost them. Then we got them. Then we lost them. Then we got them again, then we lost them. Finally we almost got them again, but now we were all just tired. That is when I got the light and the set ended. They had made me work for it, and now we were all exhausted. But hey, it was fun.

When I got off the stage my friend Jake hugged me. He asked me how I thought it went. I told him I thought it went alright, but they made me work for it. “Yes they did.” Jake said and we both laughed.

“Did I come across okay?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah. For what it was you did really well, April. You had good energy which they appreciated and you didn’t turn on the crowd.”

“Were people turning on the crowd?”

“Yeah.” Jake said. Comedy 101, you never turn on the crowd.

The people running the event complimented me on my set. And when I checked my phone I saw a message from an award winning comedian I love both as a performer and as a person complimenting me on my work. This meant a great deal to me, because I respect him oh so much. It was great.

Maybe the cabaret world could be insane, but it was my kind of insane. The performers never do anything less than their best, and everyone cares about their work to an OCD fault. But then again, I always kick my own ass when I do less than my best and I make OCD look calm. Oh and the show must go on. Maybe the cabaret world had embraced me because they were my kind of people all along, and I just had to grow up a little. Either way, I look forward to a long and beautiful friendship with them.

I also know what is next for me is going to be good. I spent my 20s delivering singing telegrams to everyone from the baker to the CEO of Credit Suisse to royalty from all over the world. I spent my 20s performing for hostile crowds and doing shit spots on shows that would never end. I escaped the hell of a guy who beat the crap out of me in order to do the things listed above. There were times I didn’t understand why I was being led down the road I was where nothing seemed easy. But then again, when you can roll a boulder you can easily throw a pebble. Translated, if I didn’t have to endure some of the things I had, I would have never handled that crowd the way I did. Actually, it makes me feel like I can handle anything, anywhere. That is, until you talk to me next week.

I held my certificate knowing I helped make history. Sure, I could have gone down the path I was going. But I didn’t. Yeah, I had to keep going and couldn’t look back. No, actually, that’s incorrect. Not only can I not look back, I need go onwards and upwards.

I can fly. 

PS I kissed a Marine and I liked it

www.aprilbrucker.com

Dear 2014

Dear 2014,

You and I had an odd relationship. Sometimes when you were good you were awesome. Then when you were terrible, you really sucked bottom worse than one of those fish who sucks bottom. Basically, you were like a bipolar person off their meds.

The winter was harsh, one of the worst I had in some time. You made me understand why Sylvia Plath took her own life. When you sent the Polar Vortex, I was going through the lowest of lows. My writing, the gift I share most with the world, was being rejected like a fat girl asking for a prom date. On top of that, I had some career drama that was never ending. Financially, I was lower than I had been in what seemed forever. I was passed over for a grant, one for a project I was passionate about. Not to mention I was given the heeve ho by a network for a project I wore a captain’s jacket on. After that, I had a falling out with a friend who was like a sister to me. I saw she was a jealous bitch who had been waiting for me to fall and scrape my elbow. Did I mention you also had someone hack my credit cards and made me broke and I was desperate to feed myself? Things got so bad, I took a promo job for a tyrant who owned a antique store that berated me because he recognized me from television, and rubbed it in that I wasn’t working. I walked away from that job, but you beat my ass so badly I am still trying to recover.

The darkness gave me strength to set boundaries and strength to fight on despite walking through hellacious uncertainty. I also got my own health insurance. In short, dark times make you an adult. It’s undeniable.

At the same time, you gave me some things I always dreamed of. I got to wear the captain’s jacket on a project. My writing got us in the door. I thought it was dead, but you surprised me by reviving it. Now I am wearing the captain’s jacket on the same project, but only with a more pimped out set of wings. I also earned my wings in other ways. I filmed a television pilot and began working with a manger. As far as my career went, I really got it together. Not to mention I filmed a television pilot and got a short film into a prestigious festival. This year I blogged for several well known sites. I became a sports reporter, a dream of mine since my teen years. Also, I recorded a comedy DVD and performed in theatres. These have been dreams of mine for years. I appeared on Wendy Williams several times as well, making me a regular on a national television show. My dream has been to be a working actor in New York. I abandoned that dream shortly after college because the standup doors were opening. However, this year I rediscovered that drive. You made up for my shiteous winter by making it rain in my slowest months. Translated, I was working at what I loved and earned my SAG/AFTRA card.

However, you also taught me that while driving the plane in my stylish captain’s jacket gives my ego a jilt, other people need to wear captain’s jackets, too. I learned this lesson after a mini-overload breakdown I had in latter summer. Yes, the one where my refrigerator broke, the top part worked, and all the food in there was making me ill. Yes, the one I had when I was working constantly, taking a graduate level class, planning a book signing, and trying to release a DVD all at once. Yes, the one where  I went crazy with the credit card buying things I forgot I had because I was so tired. Yes, the one where I screwed up my cellphone minutes. The one where I screamed at God and He/She didn’t seem to hear me. Yes, the one where I fought with a lesser celebrity sibling on twitter.

However, you also delivered the best birthday ever, where I delivered a telegram to a bunch of hormonally driven teen boys who thought I was the cat’s meow. I kissed the birthday boy who’s friends got a close up. I was afraid of that birthday, but you showed me I wasn’t just getting older but getting better as well. In that darkness when I doubted myself you delivered some wonderful fan letters. These came when I wanted to quit and move back home to the easier, softer, safer life. Then you gave me the gift of getting the video for my song “Hell No, Joe” featured on MSN.

Then I found out I was being sought out for a big writing project and selected to perform on a show where I break a world record. It seemed every time you made me eat asphalt you were preparing me for a bigger miracle.

As for the loss of that best friend, well I found I had ten other better friends in her place. I also realized that ex’s are just that, to be crossed out. Even when their girlfriends and wives go crazy, they are nothing more than memories. A lot of men are snakes, but a lot are good. I learned to stop taking scraps and don’t intend to any more.

I will ring in the New Year by having a magazine interview of mine drop, and being featured in the Guinness Book World Record Show at the Metropolitan Room. To see it come Friday January 2^nd at 11:45 pm, 34 W. 22^nd. You will not regret it.

So 2014, we had the illest relationship. While I am sad you are gone, I will not miss you. You were too damn crazy for me sometimes. I look to 2015, and hope you are awesome. I hope you don’t give me the darkness I had this past year. I also hope you are not as crazy, either.

And here we go on, ants marching to a new adventure. Let’s not get squashed. 

Broke and Semi-Famous: The Backstory

I just finally released my first DVD, a huge step in the comedy world. It is something I have been actively working for. Yes, it has taken me the better part of a decade to have the skills to do. Now that I am getting a bit of a name for myself, here I am doing it. Go Team Superfoxxx.

The concept of doing a DVD came after wanting to do it for sometime. It was winter, and I was living the Charles Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Fan mail was coming in, but I was wondering how and if I was going to feed myself. I remember two fans recognized me after a show, and then knew there would be no laundry money because I was spending my spare change getting home. Then fans recognized me on the street, but then I got a friendly email from my bank. My rent check had bounced, so that meant running to make sure there were funds.

I kept telling myself it would get better. But all it did was rain shit. People would write me to book me for gigs that seemed exciting. Buttering up my ego, they would tell me what big fans they were. I would ask them if the opportunity was paid. They would give me the run around. Some promised me a partnership. Which means working for free a lot and then not seeing a dime ever. Others promised me 50 bucks and a burger if I would schlep to hell and back to perform. I would map quest the locale only to find out I was losing money, which doesn’t help when your rent check has already bounced. Or they would offer me exposure. Yes, that is great when you are starting out. However, I had paid my dues. After all, mountain climbers die of exposure.

When I would demand to be paid fairly for my time and skill set, I would be told it wasn’t in their budget. Okay, fair, whatever. But why did you write me in the first place? Others would inform me I should be flattered that I was getting a gig at their shithole establishment. I have done enough 50 bucks and a burger shows to know most of the time they are hellacious nights that aren’t even worth me showing up at this point in my life. Then there were those who informed me I had a serious attitude problem and needed to “get experience.” Read my resume lately, dickhead? I have done things you will never do. Now let me wash my clothes in my sink because I have ten years of experience and no money in my pocked for laundry.

What pissed me off even more was some of these fuckers acted as if I was asking for an extra limb. 

Meanwhile I have comedian friends who do not have my television credits or visibility. But we can both successfully do close to an hour. They have been around twice as long as me, but I have more of a draw.

 How is it that I have to pull teeth to be treated fairly, but they get paid 2 grand for the same theatre show? It’s nothing against them. Truth: They sided with me and told me I was doing the right thing, standing my ground and putting up the boundary. They are actually guiding me on how to have the conversation successfully and from a place of truth and love.

The bottom descended in March. It was the month from hell. I auditioned for a network show, and while I got close to making the cut I did not get the job. Another idea I had almost got picked up by another network, but then was put in the circular file for other reasons that had nothing to do with me. I applied for a grant to do children’s programming, and while they liked the idea they passed on me as well. I also came close to landing three major writing jobs but was passed over. As for the singing telegrams, the phone was not ringing either. Who in my last life had I pissed off?

As if shit wasn’t hitting the fan enough in my professional life, I was hitting another rock bottom in my personal life. Familial drama was at an all time high. There was a lot going on, and I found myself oscillating between anger and concern for some of my relations. Also, because of the nature of this drama, I found old wounds were not only being opened, but a bag of salt being poured on them. I also thought I had finally found the man of my dreams, only to find out he was using me for both a green card and a place to live. So my heart was broken. On top of that, I had the wife of an ex of mine stalking me. When she wasn’t harassing me online, she was calling me up to thirty times a day. Oh, and she would tell anyone that would listen about how I wouldn’t leave her alone.

Yes, I wasn’t getting a break. I would pray to God or whoever is up there asking for relief. All I got was more shit storm. I still remember calling a friend of mine for comfort. She was someone I had taken in when she had no where to live. Instead, I got a scathing response where she told me I deserved every piece of bad luck I was getting and more. At that moment, it occurred to me my friend was not happy for the success I had been getting, and it made her more happy than anything in the world that I was down. When I hung up the phone with her, I had an anxiety attack so terrible I thought I was actually having a heart attack. While I wrote her off and swore never to speak to her again, it was just one more shingle falling off of the roof of the house I didn’t even have.

I tried applying for other forms of employment. Each time I was rejected. It wasn’t my education or experience. Some rejected me because they had seen me on TV, and was afraid I was going to be a distraction. Others told me that they would give me a job, but feared I would leave when gigs picked up. (They were right, I would). So after this happened five times, I was at a dead end.

Broke and at the end of my rope, I was forced to take a craigslist flyering job. Yes, bitch work. A force feeding of humble pie of you will. It was flyering for some shiteous art fair. I remember talking to the guy Robert on the phone. He took himself so seriously. I felt like Job, cursed and plagued because for some reason God and the devil were making a bet on my ass. I wanted to tell them both to fuck off. They both sucked and would lose.

The next day I went to the gig in front of his antique store. I already hated myself and my life, but was trying to think positive in this shit storm my existence had become. I looked around for the condescending smirker I met on the phone, but instead saw no one. This voice echoed from the black van in the morning darkness, “You must be April.” I looked and saw a sadistic looking Santa Claus figure in the van.

“Hi.” I said unexcited.

“Come in.” He chimed arrogantly.

“That is a risky tact for New York City.” I snapped. I didn’t like him. This was bitch work. There was no reason I had to be pleasant.

 In the few minutes we chatted I already could tell I didn’t like him, and this was going to be a long day. I was trying my damnest to hide it, but was failing like a quadruple amputee climbing Mount Everest. “It’s amazing how many people applied for this job. One guy sent me the pictures of all the trade shows he did. It’s amazing how many people are unemployed and looking for work. You are very lucky to have this job.” Robert said. Yes me, NYU grad who had gotten a flowery fan letter the day before and was set to film her big DVD in three weeks at the Metropolitan Room. I was lucky to be working for an asshole such as himself.

The rest of the half-hearted crew came. Like me, they were trying to disguise the fact they would much rather not be there and were failing worse than I was. We rode in the car to the art fair. Sitting in the front, I chatted with Robert trying to make friendly conversation. He mentioned he wanted me to use my puppet Don Juan. Perhaps this would be an okay day, and I was just letting my ego dampen things. I had known cast members of big shows who still worked as cater waiters when things were slow. Maybe I just had to put on my big girl pants and shut up.

As Robert and I spoke, I mentioned being in Art Forum. I wanted to let this moron know I knew my shit. It had only been a few months earlier, and the whos who of the art world got featured. My puppets and I got a nice mention. Robert had never heard of Art Forum. Then we began talking about art. I mentioned my favorite was Damien Hurst. Robert didn’t know who he was. Anyone who knows art knows Damien Hurst. I took a breath and ground my teeth. Not only was this man an arrogant assweed but he was also a tremendous poser. I just wanted to die at that moment and go to heaven. Why? Because I was already in hell.

As if things were not bad enough, Robert asked “How is the career going?”

He knew the answer to that question. After all, I was working for him. No, I was not there by choice. At that moment, I wanted to cry. Everyone had warned me about this when I decided on this career. I told them they were all wrong. However, I worked hard and sacrificed most of my twenties. Maybe I had wasted my time after all. Sure I had been on TV. Sure I had written a book. Sure I had worked with some of my heroes. I thought things would be different to say the least. Maybe I had done everything I was supposed to do with comedy and writing. Maybe it was time to go back to school, get another degree, and get a real job. Theatre students come in handy all the time in non-performance related fields. This was just a nightmare, and I didn’t have it in me to continue.

Then I mentioned my writing, blogging for the Huffington Post. That is when Robert asked me if I wanted to do some art blogging. I lied and said yes just because my head hurt and I wanted him to shut the fuck up. I had no intention of art blogging for him. I wanted the fucking day to be over. Then he said, “You have all these skills. You need to transform them into an actual living.” Shit, this was like talking to my family. I felt the pins and needles being shoved into my heart and soul. I had entered the darkness and saw no way out.

When I got to the destination, I was partnered with a girl who was trying to be an actress. She was a gorgeous black girl named Gina. Living in the city for nearly ten years, student films were the most experience she had. It was a shame, because she had a great look. For the most part, she made her bread and butter from promo gigs. I remembered the days when promos paid a lot of my rent too, and thought I was past that. Her boyfriend, who was a standup comedian I never heard of, obtained some agent and got a callback for a national commercial of some sort but didn’t book it. Robert told me my job was to perform with Don Juan, and told Gina she was to wear a sandwich board. When the sandwich board comes out, it’s a job that is going to be bad. Illegals are forced to wear them. They can’t protest because they can’t work on the books. So yeah, it was starting to suck more and more.

The day was sucktacular. Within minutes of us being out there, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped like it typically does in the bipolar New York spring. I was worried. Despite being someone who layers, it had been super warm in the morning. My Obamacare had yet to kick in, so I knew I was risking my health. To top it off, the snotty art fair people did not take our flyers, and yelled at us because we were a rival art fair and that was a no no. Robert was not only an awful human being and an idiot, he was an art world pariah. AWESOME!!!

Gina and I began to talk. She said Robert had told her he would pay her at the end of the day Sunday. He told me we were getting paid at the end of the day Saturday and then same Sunday. I was hoping at the end of the day Saturday. I had no intention of returning for more fun Sunday. I told Gina my feeling was he was trying to rip us off. Gina pointed out he was an old man.

I began to grumble. It was cold and this whole thing sucked. Gina and I decided to move up the block. No one was taking our flyers and it was warmer. Sure, I had done all these things. I was forced into servitude at the hands of a fucktard. Bills had to be paid though. And in three hours I would be out of there. Maybe there was a silver lining.

We broke for pizza. I took my time eating. It was cold and only getting colder. While I was trying to be optimistic, I knew I wasn’t going to last the whole day. When I got back outside, I got an angry phone call from Robert. The old bastard claimed to be looking for us for an hour. I explained we had moved up the block. No one was taking our fliers and we were cold. So Robert said, “I DIDN’T PAY YOU TO COME UNPREPARED!!!!!!!”

At that moment I knew my instincts were right. We weren’t seeing the money, and I wasn’t lasting the entire day. Additionally, I wasn’t like those other flyer people. I had done things and didn’t have to take his shit. What landed me there was fear I wouldn’t have enough money. Fear was also keeping me in self-pity. This was why things weren’t getting any better. At that moment, I stopped being afraid. Calmly, I said, “Sorry, I don’t think this is working out.” Then I hung up the phone.

“Where are you going?” Gina asked.

“Home.”

“Was he mad?”

“Yeah, and you are probably never going to see that money. So you should leave to. And here are his flyers.” I said dropping them on the ground. I then hailed a cab, heading home. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, and was living on credit cards anyway. But I wasn’t afraid. I knew whatever happened next was going to be okay. I just had to keep moving.

From there, I spent every waking minute preparing for my DVD taping. I hit the open mics, bar shows, and then practiced in my room. I sent invites and terrorized everyone I crossed paths with until they agreed to come. I also began to talk to myself more positively. Each day, I woke up and told myself I was going to do this. I had paid my dues, I had earned my fans, and now it was time I stopped working for shit money and for free. I was not being a diva. I was being reasonable. To prepare for my event, I also watched Rocky every night for the next two and a half weeks. Not only did it make me feel good, but it made me believe anything was possible, especially getting out of my own quicksand.

Slowly things got better as I stopped feeling so sorry for myself, and the event at the Metropolitan Room was a success. My show went before Annie Ross, and that evening I found for years I had been using an Annie Ross line without even being aware. Some say this was coincidence. I believe it was fate. For as tired as I was at the end of the big night, I felt things beginning to shift for me.

The months of May, June, and July proved to be busy. So much so the rent has basically paid itself and I have not longed for anything. Also, I now work with a manager, who not only helped me secure a job that paid well and that I liked doing, but now helps me have those difficult conversations about money. Additionally, I inform people I will not work for free, and now they no longer ask. But as I said, things have been so busy in a good way that now I am finally releasing my DVD. Also, I am starting to learn how to save money for when the inevitable shit storm comes again.

In a bittersweet salute to the terrible, long, cold, brutal winter and the events leading up to my taping, I decided to name my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous. When people around me heard the title, they thought it was very funny and they laughed. That is when I knew in my heart the hellacious last few months were really a gift in disguise. Without them, I wouldn’t graciously be able to receive what is in front of me, but also wouldn’t have busted my ass to make the event the success it was. I have already sold a few. Click here to check it out. http://aprilbrucker.com/buy-broke-and-semi-famous-dvd/

Also, if you are reading this, please don’t quit five minutes before the miracle. Sometimes you just have to keep going. Sometimes for as tough as if is, you need to stop being afraid. Fear is the devil/negative/whatever. Fear wants you to give up and go home. Fear wants you to settle in self-pity. 

Someday I will be on HBO and will play Carnegie Hall. No, I am not giving up and going home. Yes, someday I will be rich and totally famous. Yes, I am bringing my damn spooky freaky puppet children with me. 

Ms. Fairweather

Lately things have been interesting. I have a lot of things on the burner, one being my impending DVD taping at the Metropolitan Room and then a headlining theatre gig in Long Island amongst other things. These are two things I have always dreamed of doing since I graced the stage. Yeah, it took me some time to do it. But the truth is, sometimes things don't happen in my time. Things cannot happen before their time. Does it make me happy? No, but it's the nature of the beast.

When life gets full, things get a little stressful. Sunday I was having a meltdown. Yes, an April being April moment. A cry my eyes out and pull my hair kind of day. It's ugly when it happens. I am the type of person that will worry you to the ground. Seriously, I will. Anyway, I ended up calling an old friend whom I will call Cassidy. The day before I had been having the same kind of meltdown and Cassidy kind of talked me off the ledge, kinda. Still, she can be kind of a know it all. She's one of those people who tells you how to drive the bus but doesn't have a license. When I say she kinda talked me off the ledge she said some things that made me believe life was worth living but made me think a leap might be a better idea tomorrow when the weather was better for suicide. Well I wasn't suicidal but one of those "feel like I am gonna die oh shit" meltdowns.

To let you know she kept asking me about my financial situation and if I had my rent paid. In my mind of course I am already evicted and on the sidewalk. Nevermind I have two weeks to make the money materialize. She kept asking if I would starve. No bitch. I am having some money and career angst and feel overwhelmed but I am not starvin like Marvin. After that she tells me she lost her job and is living on unemployment. And you have the nerve to ask if I have my shit together. I told her my fear is always being homeless. Cassidy said, "I have been in that spot many times and don't feel sorry for you." Didn't ask you to.

The next day we spoke again because she knew an old friend of mine. Anyway, she proceeds to tear down a  lot of the things I am doing with my life. She mentions xyz, things I am looking forward to, might not happen. No shit Sherlock. I think of this daily. If I wanted that anti-reassurance and to feel deep pains in the pit of my stomach I have several family members I could call that would tell me the same thing. Then she proceeded to tell me how to proceed with a certain thing. As I was listening to her I was thinking, "You have no idea what you are talking about, bitch." I began telling her about something and she hung up on me. WTF!?!?! Either I was crazy when she was my friend or she was crazier than I remembered. Perhaps she had gotten crazier over time. Still, it left me feeling hurt. I needed a friend to tell me it was okay. Instead, she left me feeling like I wanted to jump in the damn Hudson. The only thing stopping me was it was cold. Oh and I am not suicidal. I just had my brain sucked out.

I wondered what happened to my old friend. Cassidy was hippy dippy but positive. Once upon a time she had really been there for me through some tough shit. Granted, she has always been on the edge of indigent. Still, Cassidy went to the crystal store and stuff. The whole encounter left me drained. She had been crazy in the past but she was never negative.

I felt crappy and went to see some friends. Instead of making me feel all doomy and gloomy they listened and told me it was going to be okay. They told me it would pass. They asked why I didn't call them instead. I laughed and started to feel better about everything. I called a woman who's like my mom and she lovingly suggested my nut ball friend might have totally lost her mind and might have deep seeded psych issues. And she too suggested no longer calling Cassidy.

Second Mother also suggested that now I was getting to see Cassidy the way a lot of other people did. Cassidy has been kicked out of everywhere she has lived. Additionally, she has gotten herself in other jams. On top of that, her know it all has come out at the wrong time and people have flown off the handle at her.

Later I went and hung out with a buddy breaking up with her girlfriend. Yes, it's a lesbian breakup. She joked, "My ex girlfriend is like winter. She won't go away." I told her everything and this friend not only made me feel better, but she made me feel excited about everything I was doing. Bonus, she said these were good things and good problems I had. Yeah, I am scared and don't know what is next but I am also excited.

We went to a bar to see a friend perform Marilyn Monroe, and our friend killed it. I also made some new friends and danced the night away. I heard all my favorite 80s songs, which was God's way of telling me it was going to be alright. In between being around good people, laughing until my sides hurt, and dancing the night away, I felt better. Oh and a creepy guy kept pursuing me which kinda made me feel pretty in a sick way. LOL.

This morning I went kickboxing. I woke up early but it was awesome. My running buddy aka The Mexican was there in full force. We trained hard and then went to Dunkin Donuts and talked about karate, street fighting, and ways to kill people. We ended up striking a convo with a former hockey player turned lawyer about the best way to cripple someone in  a street fight.

Then I hit an open mic and tried out a new tag a friend had given me for a joke. Not only was I excited for my new tag, but the new tag killed.

A musician friend joked, "Yeah, if you call her, you will jump. Better not let her work for the suicide hotline."

Translated, I have a lot of love around me. I only need people to bring me up, not drag me down. Spring cleaning means cleaning out my closet and cleaning out my refrigerator. But it also means cleaning out negative people from my life.


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

Dream Lover (Mariah Carey)

I had two dreams about crushes this week, past and present. Earlier this week I had a dream about a crush from my past. He was a Sagitarrian. Yes, as in the sign that refuses to work, gets by off of scamming women and their bedroom swings like a NYC subway turnstyle. They are probably as dirty as one too, seeing that Sag's are more often than not homeless.

Anyway, this tattooed dream boat who I will call Bobby met me when I was a teenager. At eighteen, I was this fawn trying to find my voice and he was just a bad boy. Seriously bad. I mean, obsessed with cars and doing drugs bad. Oh, and he also tested the judicial system kind of bad. You know, my future husband. DUH!!! Anyway, I liked him and he liked me. But the way of these things is I did what I was supposed to do with my life and he didn't. So Bobby ran around with trashy women who hated the fact he always gave me free rides in this car he painted and remodeled. One evening I tried to impress him and failed. Yeah, we were friends after that but eh.

Well Bobby kicked drugs, found God, and now is more annoying than ever. According to my friends who have stayed in touch with him, Bobby will read the Bible and preach to anyone who will listen. Most people don't, they just run like they saw Godzilla when Bobby comes. Apparently, he has a tattoo of an angel on his back with the words "Jesus saves." Yeah, he should have stuck to heroin. Bobby is also married to another women he met in drug treatment. Apparently they are opening a church with a tattoo shop in it. She also has angel wings on her back and didn't cover these up in the wedding pictures. Just cause you met in rehab don't mean you gotta dress like it.

Several nights ago, I had a dream I got another chance with Bobby. We were at an old hang out in my hometown, Benny's Flat Bread. Anyway, Bobby and I were in the parking lot. I looked into his deep, dark, bad boy bedroom eyes. He went to kiss me. I had waited so long for Bobby Thomas the bad boy to kiss me. I would be swept off my feet, right?Oh wrong. Hell to the no. Bobby Thomas gave me the sloppest, wetest, emptiest kiss. Oh and he slipped me the most vile tongue. I just kept thinking, "NOOOOO!!!!!" Granted, you are a disappointment in real time but at least you could have been good in my dreams. On the regular when I hear about Bobby Thomas the universe is telling me I dodged a bullet. Looks like I double dodged a bullet. When a man is a sucky kisser even in your dreams, there was never a future there. And to think I let that failure break my heart.

A present crush I found myself dreaming about is a friend of mine. He is born under the sign of Cancer. To me, a man born under that sign is like crack cocaine laced with kryptonite. Yeah, they start out like a good time but end up ruining me forever. This crush, whom I will call Arliss, is so not my type. I am not usually into dudes like him, but I am kind of into him. He called me out of the blue a few weeks ago and can't get him out of my mind. We were always friends, then we worked together, then things got crazy, and then they didn't. Arliss was a little bit of a mack daddy back in the day. Between him and his roommate/best friend, they slept with every girl I knew aside from me.

Eighteen months ago I saw Arliss's bestie and he introduced me as the only girl he knew from that time period that didn't sleep with him. Yeah, I was a little bit of a good girl and prude during that period in my life. Beyond prude, I didn't even know how to talk to a guy. Hell I still don't. Anyway, I remembered how those two were Mack Daddy Supreme.

So things got complicated cause Arliss had a gal pal. Things were on the rocks when we reconnected, but he still very much loved her. It got even more complicated cause Arliss's new bestie liked me, but was too weird to make a move. Even though I am far from the prude Arliss knew back in the day, he is still too much of a Mack Daddy for me. Plus I never pegged myself for his type. Oh and I wear wayyy too much clothing, LOL. Not that he works in a strip club, but his job puts him around a crappola loada of beauties.

Well I have not been able to get Arliss out of my mind. In the middle of this week I had a dream. We were at a party and he told me he liked me. He told me he always thought I was pretty, but didn't want to ruin our friendship (AWWWW!!!!). Anyway, he told me he always wanted to kiss me. Arliss took me out to the patio and kissed me passionately. We then proceeded to make love like the world was ending, and let me tel you he was HOTTTTTTTEERRRRR than ever in my dream.

I asked him if I would see him again. Before he could answer me, I woke up.

Note to self, Sagitarrians and Cancers disappoint and disappear in dreams and for real. Still, the sleepy time surprises were worth it. Bobby Thomas is married but that could all change. Arliss is coupled but apparently they are on the fritz. There is always summer poppy seeds.

Gulp

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