New Year's Blog

This is day two of the New Year. I should be more excited but I'm not. Instead I am drained and poised for disappointment. It's sort of a weird time of year. Christmas is over, Thank God. There is so much stress leading to the holiday. Family drama is at a maximum. I can't take it. No one can. Of course we had Christmas this year at my parents house in Pittsburgh. Don't get me wrong, it was wonderful. But because we had a bunch of people-my dad is the second of seven and my mom the first of six-we spent days cooking , cleaning and decorating tirelessly. Of course I was coming off of a stressful month and a half. The fact this was the first Christmas without my mom's parents was painful. They both passed this year.

Yes, I was on what I lovingly refer to as a work bender. I kind of have some producer duties on a certain project and felt like I was kind of called to save Christmas. I also had some opportunities present themselves with my writing which were cool, as well as my comedy and ventriloquism. I hear about all these things and more in the New Year. I will find out if I sink or swim. This should be exciting but I am shaking in my boots. Actually, I am terrified if sinking. I have worked so hard and there are so many factors.

There is kind of a darkness that descends this time of year. It's because it has no personality. Christmas is over, and Valentines Day, curse it, isn't for another month. It's just cold and dreary. I have been in the sink and swim spot before. It was 2009. I remember things were coming together. I had been on national television three times. I opened for Aretha Franklin's concert. I filmed a pilot. And then it all seemed to stall. The telegrams dried up and I was paying in my pocket change. I ended up working a promo job outside a TV studio I had entered only months before. It was the soggiest, grossest, most humiliating stale piece of humble pie ever. And now I am at this crossroads again. Will I be able to cross or be detained by the boatman?

Since that time the thought of a New Year has frightened me. To top it off I got a horrific letter yesterday. It was hateful and this dude called me a bunch of names. Because he was so vile I went to block him. He had posted a KKK avatar on his page. By the way, he is Spanish which makes this funny and he said I said nasty things about Spanish people. Aside from being alarmed at some of his other pictures showing women being raped and his status updates saying hateful things about black people, I thought his KKK affiliation was ironic. When the guys who wear white robes with the Nazi symbol in the middle speak of "mud people" they mean anyone brown, Latinos included. (Note: These morons have no teeth so if you are a person of color don't take them seriously ever.)  Yes, the KKK doesn't like you if you ain't a white Protestant. His level of hate and ignorance was alarming, especially since he was the most ironic recruit ever. So basically it was okay for be to use the n word, joke about raping women, but I can't make jokes about Latinos and whites. (He used the n word several times on his page. This whole thing was bizzare). Aside from being hateful and ignorant, this was the most ironic recruit ever. But the images he had on his profile of women being assaulted and the jokes under it were disgusting and absolutely creepy. Enough to upset me so I couldn't sleep.

I tried going to sleep and had a nightmare. I dreamed that I was leaving the gym and driving-dream cause I dont drive-and was pulled over. I had a hearing in front of this judge who started out by telling me that she was a fan. And then she went on my facebook, didn't like my status update, and sentenced me to 40 years in jail. The dream was so vivid as my father was trying to petition for my appeal and I was crying. My cellmate beat me up and then I woke up. Thank God. No prison and no evil judge with a beehive hair do.

I did what I do when I always wake up from a bad dream. I looked around, made sure I was okay, and then remembered it was Thursday. Kickboxing. So I went to the gym and kicked some ironic KKK and evil beehive woman ass. To a better New Year.

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

Sludge Hammer (Peter Gabriel)

Every comedian has had a hell gig. Some of us have had many. It's part of being in the game. Several years ago, I had the mother of all hell gigs. Curtain up and enter the Moose Lodge. A buddy of mine named Jimmy McCaffrey who was a sometimes comedian and in full time conflict with his ex wife had booked it. The show had a mix of folks still in the incubation stages of comedy like myself, seasoned comedians, and of course headliners. I figured the show could have gone either way when I got there. After all, this was Jersey. These were all white people. I had done well in a black room only the week before. This would be a breeze, right?

WRONG!

The show began and my friend did a minute and a half up front. The rest of us were looking at each other like "what?" The first comedian went up. He was a slight fellow named Paul Mazeroff who's gift was the business side, but as for material, he had a solid minute and a half. Paul wasn't even onstage for a minute and he was already being heckled. I was supposed to go next. OH SHIT!

After three minutes of this nonsense Jimmy gave Paul the light. The next comedian was Howard Feller, who killed it. This was an awesome experience and even more awesome to watch. Okay, maybe they weren't going to eat us alive after all. After Howard I went up. I brought May out. Some of the room was into me. Some wasnt. Actually, they were divided down the middle. I didn't care. I just wanted to survive. Some drunken white racist idiot said, "This isn't standup comedy. She has a puppet." No shit Sherlock. I have a puppet.

The next comedian, who's name escapes me, was a blur. After him they interrupted the comedy show so this weird looking Napoleon Dynamite kid could say a prayer. In a surreal blur the comedy show continued. Some of the comedians battled with these bizarre angry white hecklers. One lady, a mom comic who's name escapes me that kept talking about her kids, gave one guy a t shirt. They were silent during her set, which meant they were paying attention but not laughing is the most brutal form of bullying in comedy. The show finally ended with Danny McDermott taking down and ultimately verbally killing a heckler.

After the show, one of the worst hecklers said, "I felt bad for the comedians. No one would even give them a chance." Yeah asshole, you heckled. A bunch of folks gave me and the rest of the comedians backhanded compliments. One tattooed dude said he really dug me.

They say from every hell gig you learn something. One of the weirdo hecklers said he saw my jokes on my hand cause in those days I wrote my set list on my hand. I stopped doing that and just memorized it.

Years later, when I was on TV the tattooed dude who liked me dropped me a fan note.

Last night Chris DiFate and I saw each other after a number of years. While it was good to see an old friend, it was even better to laugh about the shared shiteous experience we had together. I had forgotten about the horrid prayer. Chris reminded me. The beautiful thing about comedy is everyone pays their dues. As you move up the ladder, you laugh with others about the same harrowing experiences.

There is no business like show business

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