My Corona

Coronavirus. She is on your TV new station. It’s all everyone is talking about. The coronavirus is closing this, that is cancelled, life is cancelled, even the coronavirus conference is cancelled. Coronavirus is getting some serious press. Climate Change called, “Bitch, who’s your publicist?”

Not a fan of Miss Corona at the moment. April Unwrapped, my one woman show, previewed in Las Vegas last month. I had worked my entire life for this and we were getting ready to open my regular run for my residency and BAM! Coronavirus hit and everything has been postponed indefinitely. This is a surreal kick in the heart to say the least, as my line of work is filled with hustle and rejection even when doomsday is not looming upon us.

More than anything, this has been irking me as a long time HIV/AIDS activist. As someone who has many friends in the long term survivor community, I appreciate the stress and fear surrounding Miss Corona. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention more people were dead within the first month of AIDS, and it took the CDC THREE YEARS to assemble a task force. It was only after activists who came before me took radical action. Or as Mark S. King of My Fabulous Disease explained, that it was convenient to ignore HIV/AIDS because “the right people” were dying, meaning LGBTQ, addicts, and POC. Unfortunately, only something becomes a crisis when it hits the straight, white, cis community.

While the privilege of the dominant culture and double standard around who matters have reduced me to screaming matches with people, I also do not believe anyone regardless of who they are should perish by coronavirus. I have been raging against the like of Katie Jo Williams aka Corona Katie who believe coronavirus is manufactured myth not to get Trump re-elected, or as she said on Twitter, “I am going to get a burger at Red Robin because I am an American and that is what I do.” So as an American you do not care about the immunosuppressed like long term HIV survivors who consider flu season hell, people with COPD, cancer patients going through chemo, children with asthma and others at risk? Look, I know it sucks but we have to do what is necessary until this is under control.

What is most disheartening is not only the selfish panic buying but racism I am seeing against Asian in the form of tweets, memes, and rhetoric. There is a story circulating that a guy ate a bat and BAM, we have coronavirus. (Okay, maybe coronavirus’s publicist needs a new spin on this). This is reminiscent of the racist myth during AIDS that some African in the forest had sex with a money and BAM, we have AIDS. (I hope AIDS fired her publicist after that one). Crappy jokes aside to lighten the mood, as an activist I find this ignorance disgusting, but a waste of valuable time and energy that could be used not only to educate others about transmission about coronavirus, but how to prevent that transmission not only to themselves but to others around them, especially the most vulnerable. Add in the disregard for science by our president and vice president and wow, I am like a drag queen who just lost the pageant on a technicality.

As I was marinating in my resentment that the world sucked and we were all gonna die last week, I was involved in a minor car accident when my car was struck by a vogue taxi cab. After seeing my life flash before my eyes, dealing with the drama that comes with an accident and Metro PD, I was star trekking in the Twilight Zone. When I got home and saw the coronavirus coverage on TV I couldn’t take it, I couldn’t do it. Yeah Miss Corona might get me, but that rogue taxi cab did a much better job of nearly getting me. Bye Felicia.

Since that time I have been focusing on myself, but most importantly self-care. Like Shakespeare did when the theatres closed during the plague, I have been writing more prose, and perhaps I will take a stab at a sonnet. I have been practicing more with my puppets, perfecting our routines so we are not just ready for the opening whenever it comes, but sharper than ever when things get back to normal. I am going outside, enjoying the sunshine, and enjoying the dogs. In a few weeks, it will be warm enough here to plant tomatoes.

A quote from another long time AIDS activist friend comes to mind, “Pace yourself.” My rage is okay and well placed, but right now, I just got to do me. I see a bath bomb in my near future. When things get back to normal, I want to call Miss Corona, “Bitch, I’m opening in Vegas. Who’s your publicist?”

Tunnel of Love (Bruce Springsteen)

For the last several weeks I have been working at The Horseman's Hollow Haunted House in Sleepy Hollow. I can say that the gig isn't perfect for a lot of reasons (no job ever is) , but I LOOOOVVVVEEE WERQQQIIINNNGGG IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE EVERY WEEKEND, OH YEAH!!!! It is nice steady side money coming in. Not to mention I get to work with full body puppets. In my journey as a puppeteer, I have worked with ventriloquist puppets, hand and rod, Bunraku, and Balinese Shadow Puppets. Never have I ever full body.

I love the people I get to work with too, which is not the case with every project you do. We even have a theatre family which we nicknamed The House of Cards. Alex, my little friend, is one I have easily adopted. He's not my son because that is too gender affirming but my moon. You get the idea.

Anyway, tonight I was minding my own business working in the Den of the Wailing Woman. You always see me when you walk in. My puppet, whom I have named Priscilla says, "Hey Sugar Puff, I am the ghoul of your dreams. You shoulda swiped right."

To give you an idea, the Den of the Wailing Woman is completely dark aside from glow in the dark florescent skeletons. I am there with 4 other puppeteers. In between patrons I turn on our black light to make sure no one has died since I have the walkie. But enoygh about that. Let's talk about Priscilla

Nevermind she is an 8 foot skeleton. Most folks laugh. Priscilla has become a sort of hit in a way as patrons have returned several times and say, "Swipe right."

Or tonight I wasn't doing the Tinder joke as much, so one kid said, "You have Tinder don't you?"

Several youngins even told their parents how funny I was and how they were begging them to take them to see the attractions, but they got a kick out of yours truly. Anyway, one young lad took it a step further.

During the walk, he asked Priscilla to marry him. I was perplexed. My character is 300, he's 13. To make it even more romantic he got down on one knee. Although the age difference is probably illegal in the State of New York, he asked better than the previous two men who wanted to marry me. Plus he wasn't a total loser with a psych illness or anger management issue. So I said, "Sure Sugar Puff, let's make this happen."

Needless to say his mother decided she didn't want her son to have a zombie bride. So she yelled, "Get up, c'mon, let's get going."

My dreams of romance evaporated into the night air.

Sigh. I am having a great time. The last time I was this happy was at the RNC in Cleveland. I feel like I am having fun, learning, growing into my own skin, learning new things and making a few bucks. I am also falling in love with theatre like I was in college. Plus I might have met my future ex husband.

Did I mention I sold a few calendars? Life is good

Calendar

Kwitting Komedy

Everyone funny person arrives at a crossroads when they have to decide whether they want to continue to sling punchlines behind a mic, or whether they want to retreat anonymously into the throws of civilian life. It’s a place that is painful, because as a comedian, it’s not just a job or even a hobby. Writing jokes take up every fiber of your being. You look at a situation most would think of as sick or twisted, and are looking for the angle to make it a good bit. Even in times of crisis, you are eagerly awaiting the punchline. Most comedians are strange, awkward, sad clowns to begin with. So in the end, it all makes sense.

But how long can you be a strange, awkward, sad clown? Especially when the art form is brutal, the life style is abusive, and the politics are just incomprehensible. Not to mention that sexism is A-Okay. I have seen things at comedy clubs that would get most normal people a sit down at HR in most places. Not to mention I have known women who have slept their way to the middle, lacking the stage presence and talent of more deserving female comedians. And the jealousy…….oh we wont even go there. In an industry where there are so many comedians and so few spots, the scorpion in all of us comes out.

So then the crossroads arrives. It could be after a number of things. It can be after a horrid bomb akin to Nagasaki. It can be after a series of onstage disappointments where you feel your mojo is gone. It could be tiring of the bullshit politics of the club scene. It could be after being denied in favor of someone less talented. It could be after a so called big break falls through and you are just tired of fighting. It could be after seeing everyone else is “making it” and you aren’t. It could be you are passed at a club, but are tired of the same bullshit check spots because you don’t have the TV credits required. It could be that you get those credits, but are bumped in favor of a more senior comedian who has the same credits but hasn’t been on those shows in years. It could be that you are tired of the late nights. It could be that you are tired of the road. It could be that you are tired of the rat race, and tired of being broke. It could be that you are tired of your family pressuring you to have a normal life and just want to give in. It could be a devastating life event leaves you wanting something other than a nonsense, playtime career. It could be that you are just burned the fuck out.

Bob Newhart even explained it in a Reader’s Digest piece. He said he almost quit comedy, because as he was getting older, living in basically a shoe box and doing the road, his friends were getting the house, the car, the wife, the kids…….getting on with it. Sometimes pursuing your dreams, especially alone, gets to be kind of old. You get tired. You want something else.

It’s a scary universe picking yourself outside of show business. Who will you be? What will you do? I have known plenty of talented people who have made the great jump. One young lady won a contest and even had a hot shot manager courting her, something we were all envious of. But she was sick and tired of being funny, broke, and poor. Now she teaches math to disadvantaged students.

Another guy I lost a Laugh Off to was tired of the late nights and politics. Johnny Carson funny, he didn’t have to resort to the edgy, vulgarity many of my peers and I do. Now he is married with two kids, living back home in the Midwest, and is the funny guy at the office.

Then one of my old open mic homies who had the best tags for jokes, genius if you will, dropped out of the game after his son was born. He says he doesn’t miss it and doesn’t know if he will ever be back. Sure he hates his advertising job, but says he uses his creativity in a different way.

Bottom line, they are all happy. Do they wonder what if? Hell if I know.

Whenever someone has that conversation with me, in the midst of a meltdown, I tell them not to make any rash decisions. Sometimes they are upset, fed up. I tell them sleep on it. Give it a week, and if they still feel the same way then take a step back. Sometimes we need a vacation from getting onstage, and if we miss it enough, we often do return. Rodney Dangerfield did………after 20 years. So I always end with saying, “The universe will tell you if this is or isn’t what you are supposed to be doing. And only you will know.”

Yeah, I talk from experience. I was there recently myself

Life events had given me the shaft. Despite some attention and noise I was making, life wasn’t good to me. I was at the mercy of the landlord from hell, and was in and out of court. Because my living situation was not only emotionally unsafe but physically unsafe as well, I lost my hair. I broke up with my boyfriend at the time, and it was bad. The only thing getting me up off the floor was the fact my landlord kept taunting me with eviction papers and dragging me to court.

Ironically, around this time, I had begun working with my mentor. He’s the type where you have to have at least 10 years in for him to even consider looking at you. I had hounded this man from the time I was a kid toting a puppet. Now we were ready to work together. I should have been thrilled, but this was coming at a time when I was considering pulling the plug on my comedy career which made the whole thing more confusing.

At that time, I had a chat with a now ex friend and it was about God and faith. She was a nut, but she was a nice lady, or so I thought. “You want to do this comedy stuff, but God might be telling you no.” Veronica cooed in her nice Southern accident. “Maybe it’s time for you to just get a different job and do something else.”

I did a set at a comedy club that night with my friends words in my mind. There were lots of funny people in my city, and I was by far not even close to being the funniest. Not to mention I had worked long and hard, and still wasn’t where I wanted to be. I had some success, I made some noise on the international dateline. But maybe it was time to say I had my fun and did everything I was supposed to do with it. And maybe I was wasting my time.

I killed it that evening. This was God telling me to do comedy and to ditch my asshole friend.

The next day I got eviction papers again from my landlord. Days later he tried to burn my apartment down, and the police who came to comfort me encouraged me to leave as soon as I humanly could. Thus I moved under duress. While the living situation I entered was better, I was totally burned out. Days later, I got word a yearly test came back abnormal, and the odds of me having cancer were good. I silently hoped I would have cancer so I could just lay down and die because I was so tired of fighting.

Waiting for the test results was the most excruciating experience of my life. Around that time a magazine did a story on me, calling me “Master of All Talent.” It is a well known one, too. At that party, everyone was nice to me. Yet I felt like I was walking in a fog in a life that was once mine but wasn’t. They say you should quit when your spark is gone. My spark was gone.

Christmas came weeks later, and as usual I had certain family members pressuring me to quit and “grow up.” In the past I either let them upset me or tuned them out. Now I figured they might have a point. My aunt knew a woman who apparently made “lots of money” and worked in NYC once a month and was “interested” in hiring me. I met this woman and felt she was an obnoxious, boorish, moron and a phony at that. But she had a job for me, and my parents were urging me to take it. Knowing my options were running out, I gave it thought.

They tried to sell it to me that I could still do my comedy, but probably secretly hoped I would get so involved in this job I would quit. I had no problem with that as I wanted to quit, but didn’t want this woman to be my only option, but that was the way it was looking. Weeks later, it turned out she was a career criminal and the IRS was seizing her house. As for the money she made, looks like she cant buy a cup of coffee. Maybe she saw New York once in a movie before the electric company shut off her power and cable.

I went through a week where I wanted to go to law school, go to get the PhD in history, become a nurse, become a wedding planner, and finally turn my hair strawberry blonde and work in an office. I confided my feelings to a friend who had been through a nasty divorce. She said the following things to me, “April, I went through the same thing after my divorce. You are in no place to make any decisions at all right now, and anything you decide now you will later regret. Give it at least 6 months.”

The next week I went to Vegas and debuted a new routine with my mentor and crushed it at a legendary venue where the likes of Frank Sinatra worked. I told him about my crisis of faith. A man who has worked with the best of them, he told me, “This isn’t the universe telling you to quit, it’s telling you that now you really need to start doing this for real.”

My zeal was back for a minute.

That is until I came across an older former headliner I knew working as a waiter in Times Square. After several personal mishaps and the loss of a booking gig, he was no longer pursuing stand up but now working with a pad in hand. Beaten down and bitter, he told me “no one’s making it.” He confided in the newbie comedy friend who was sick of her office job and myself that he wished he never left his office job, because now he wouldn’t be where he was. To say he had regrets was an understatement.

I tried to put a positive spin on the conversation, but didn’t want to tell him about Vegas or the good things I was doing. Instead I said everyone had their path, and perhaps he would be back one day. But he had pulled me into his abyss. Afterwards, I began to question my decisions. Maybe this was a visitor from my future warning me about what was to come. I was still young. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to get out and be an adult before I ended up where he was.

I did about a month of spots and did okay. Nothing great or monumental. I was not inspired enough to write new jokes because I didn’t have the energy. While I wasn’t eating it, I wasn’t doing what I was capable of. Sure, I was good enough to book but no one was in a real hurry to have me back. I got the job done. Back in the day, I saw people who were greener and could best them because of experience and I knew where they were faltering. Now I was making the same mistakes they were. Bottom line, the passion was gone. I was just going through the uninspired motions onstage.

Then something happened to alter the course of everything. I was walking down the street planning on leaving NYC and marrying some random dude and having kids when my phone rang. It was to replace a guy who was having a bigger breakdown and crisis of faith that clearly topped mine. I said yes, but then kicked myself. It was an extended set on the road. I hadn’t done one in a while. This was going to be a blood bath.

I lamented my plight to my friend who is a 10^th generation palm reader. A woman of spirituality, she has an autistic son and her life is one that is difficult, but somehow she has the strength to endure. “The universe is telling me to quit, and this weekend will be so bad it will reaffirm everything I know.”

“No, this is the universe telling you to do comedy. That’s why you got the surprise gig.” She reassured me.

“What if I tank out?” I whined.

“Then it will give you something new to whine about other than your breakup, your eviction, your hair loss and your cancer scare. Just put yourself out there and dust yourself off. Whatever happens, at least you wont regret sitting home and wasting your talent.” She admonished.

The first night was brutal. But I was expecting a car crash where I lost all my limbs and was paralyzed. I lost just both my arms and could still walk, so I was actually happy that it was less of a blood bath than I anticipated. So when the club owner gave me the talk afterward that tomorrow night needed to be different, I was expecting it. I knew full well I had sucked.

Just as I was in the midst of my “I’m not listening, Mr. Club Owner” phase, he said something that piqued my interest. I had seen him go up and he was funny, very funny. And then he mentioned he had just gotten back from headlining in Vegas, something I had always wanted to do but didn’t think I would ever accomplish. There is an old saying to flock to people who have what you want, and he had what I wanted. Then he began to dissect my whole act, and had some super helpful suggestions. To say he knew his shit was an understatement. Oh and he was super passionate about comedy. And to say he was absolutely right about everything is also an understatement as well.

What happened next deserves a blog all it’s own, because it would hardly do this man or his advice justice in one paragraph. But it was the kick in the ass that I needed. Basically the universe wasn’t telling me to throw in the towel. Instead, it was telling me to stick with comedy, but to get my head back in the game because there was still work to be done. And it was a process, a journey, that didn’t happen instantaneously.

The next night I knocked it out of the park. But more than anything, I realized I forgot how much I just plain loved making people laugh, and how much FUN it was to be onstage. It felt like the days before I even knew what having a TV credit was or I even answered a piece of fan mail. It felt like the days before people even remotely knew who I was…….not that they know a whole lot now. Either way, I got a taste of what I used to be able to do, and I suddenly felt like I could do more, and that I needed to do more.

I didn’t just want to do comedy again. I needed to do comedy again. And it wasn’t going to let me quit anytime soon. When I got home I ordered a puppet stand (club owner had me working with one as per his suggestion), and began to tape myself rehearsing (another one of his suggestions) and both have been effective.

I have also been working on a new routine, and it has been a lot of fun breaking it in onstage. Actually, I have been having a blast. I have also been finding a new sense of community, as we are all striving for the perfect punchline, the same killer tag, and strive for that applause. Needless to say, I also have some recommended reading I need to do.

In closing, when you send a script to Development, they always send it back with sticky notes. I wanted to quit comedy, and the execs thought that part on my page 31 was much too depressing, so they did a rewrite. That is why I say when you want to quit comedy, sleep on it. The universe will tell you, and the universe told me no. Looks like comedy and I are going to be spending some more time together. It’s not such a bad plot twist. Actually……….I kind of like it. 

www.AprilBrucker.TV

Superstar (The Carpenters)

The other night at my show we were talking about some of the telegrammers past and present. Some were women who were shining stars while they were under my boss’s esteemed tutelage, and then decided for whatever reason to make the great exit. Yes, they decided to kill their dreams.

One was an assistant of my boss Bruce who was leaving as I was starting the job. Colette was a gorgeous triple threat and former pageant queen. Aspiring to Broadway, she worked for Bruce and was his resident Marilyn Monroe, naughty nurse, and sexy character gal. Basically me before there was a me at my job. However, she was good on the phones aka selling the product and I sucked during my short stint. Anyway, she was leaving the job because she was having a baby.

Now instead of being a triple threat in musical theatre, she is a triple threat in Westchester. She is a wife, mother, and has a job in real estate. Is she happy? I can’t answer that question because I have only spoken to her a total of three times in my life. But one thing is for sure, if she ever goes for a job interview they won’t ask her, “Headshot, resume, and best 16 bars.”

Another was Shoshanna, a nice Jewish girl from Long Island. A semi-successful Streisand impersonator, she had some high profile gigs in addition to assisting Bruce. Shoshanna was always searching for that nice Jewish husband. I remember her dating several men that I met, all whom I felt were beneath her that could only squawk about themselves and their small time show biz careers. However, she met one that wasn’t in show business. He was a civil servant of some sort. Basically Prince Semi-Charming told Shoshanna that she wasn’t making enough money as an actress, and had to get a more stable career. Not that he was rolling in bank. Shoshanna tried to go to school for Physical Therapy. That didn’t work. She talked about breaking up with him.

I remember telling Shoshanna that a man who wanted her to give up her career wasn’t worth it. Nonetheless she did, and married him. I think she wanted to be married and have a house more than she wanted to be the next Barbra Streisand. Some people are like that. Not everyone is a workaholic like me I suppose. Either way, she is married, has a house, and does some office thing. It’s all business without the show.

I have met a lot of brilliant and talented people who left show business for various reasons. Hell, a lot of the people I went to Tisch with are no longer doing theatre or in show business in any capacity. One girl I went to college with, who has a body I would die for, decided to change course and become a doctor. After spending the better part of a decade as an actress in LA, she’s doing a post bacc program and getting ready for medical school. Others have decided to become school teachers. That way they can use their creativity, change the world, and not worry about living in poverty. Some got an MBA, and others used their oratory gifts in different ways by becoming lawyers. Then there were those who started families, and live the boring 9-5 office life.

I understand why people would want to leave this career. It’s a life that is 99 percent rejection. Sometimes you will lose a role because you don’t have a look, aren’t sleeping with someone, etc. Sometimes you are denied spots because of politics, race, or some shitty booker doesn’t like women. Money is never consistent. If you want a family life, well nine times out of ten you can kiss that wish goodbye. This is a career where opportunity knocks once, and that means dropping everything to run for it. Partners and children don’t always understand it. Plus it is feast or famine. The workload is ridiculous when it is feast, which means no time for a personal life. Nine times out of ten you are the asshole friend or forgetful family member when this happens. I know, I’ve been there.

This past week I found myself tired and contemplating my life. For the better part of my twenties, I treaded the poverty line and fought hard for the career I have now. I showed up for a very long time. Often it was with no result. Often I was denied for being a woman, a ventriloquist, a loud mouth, having bad makeup, you name it.

However, as of late, the showing up has been paying off. The last three months have been nonstop work that I have loved, mannah from heaven in many ways. Additionally, the people I have worked with have all been wonderful, talented, dedicated, and kind. Money has not been an issue, and the rent has paid itself. Basically, I have been getting paid to do what I love. I filmed my DVD after a hellacious winter and everything has gone uphill from there. Also, my skills from my telegrammer past have made me able to handle any audience there is. Life is good.

The only downside is I am tired. I began to feel this way shortly before my big event Thursday. The night went off swimmingly, but then I felt like scrambled eggs afterwards, and thank God for my assistant. Shortly before my event, I was on the phone with my mother. Lately, she has been telling me how proud she is of me, and all the work I have been doing. In meltdown mode, I confessed to my mother that I was tired and started crying. My body hurt, my bones hurt, everything hurt. Not to mention I wanted to vomit that is how tired I was from how hard I had been working. In my little fussy fit, I told my mother all I had ever wanted was this career and now I was too tired to enjoy it.

My mom, being awesome, mentioned her whole life she had wanted a pool. A champion breast stroker, my mom had captained her Division I college squad and coached. My father however is not a swimmer at all. After years of begging and through the pains of empty nesting, my father gave in. After having the pool built and walking through the drama that was construction, she only got to use the pool at the end of last summer. Now this year, she confessed, she spends so much time with the cleaning and up keep that there are days when she is too tired to use it.

Then it hit me. There was another less obvious reason why people, talented people, drop the ball on this career. You spent so much time lusting for the spotlight and applause. You give up everything to get it. It wears you out. Then once you book the gig, your time is spent looking for the next gig and preparing for the next gig. And you barely can be where your feet are. Much energy is expended looking and preparing for what might not happen. And when it does happen, it happens at once and you have no time for yourself or a personal life. Madonna and Prince dedication is rare. Many people want a spouse, family, and friends. The demands and sacrifice become too much and they become drained. They have nothing left to give, and therefore they stop giving.

The day before my show I met a fan of mine in the salon. A young man from Texas, my friend Wyatt called me and said this dude had seen me on TV. I went to the salon, barely able to string together a sentence because my mind was so scattered from all the sleep I wasn’t getting. The man said I was incredibly gifted. I wanted to say, “Yes, but also incredibly tired.”

The day after my show, my boss called me to do a rapping chicken. I was indignant at the request. So tired I was getting migraine headaches and vomit was coming up my throat, I asked myself why I even said yes. It must be the German in me. While I basically failed the language the lone quarter I had it in 6^th grade, the genes are in my blood. Sure, I havent gone on a racist rant ever and don’t plan on it. But I am  a hard worker. Even my critics cannot detract from that no matter how many times they slander me. Germans work, and we don’t complain about it. We say yes to work.

I went and was a rapping chicken in Korea Town. Going to the gig, I felt a little better. The dude I did the gig for was a little resistant, and it took every ounce of energy to make him do what I wanted. My hat fell off, and the kindly Korean woman operating the restaurant got it for me. The people were nice enough to tip. I was praying they wouldn’t tell my boss I looked cracked out or that they hated me. But I got a nice applause afterwards. I gave it my best. I showed up despite my condition. I gave it my best. When I get tired, I like to beat myself up. I like to tell myself I am not enough and will never get where I want to go. If they tell my boss I sucked, great. I still did my best. Did I mention the German gives me my Type A personality, and at times I never feel I am enough?

Yesterday I was a complete disaster. I tried to do my Ranter job, and as my brain was shutting down I thought Brazil was playing again. Not to mention I was so sick I forgot I had a gig in Long Island because my body was cramping, vomiting, shitting and all that happy shit. They were nice enough to let me reschedule. My Ranter device was being crazy. It was God telling me to take a nap. In my dizziness I told myself perhaps it was time to throw in the towel. I had done what I needed/wanted to do in a way. Maybe it was time to move to Westchester, find a husband, and have a few babies. Sure, I have success and fans. But most of the time, I have no life.

Then I decided it was time to get some sleep.

I went to church this morning, my spiritual home. Being Catholic is like a crack habit, you never quite get rid of it. Then I remembered how miserable I was when my fiancé made me give up my puppet children, and how self destructive I was during that time. I also realized for as tired as I am, I am the happiest when I am working. Yeah, I was one tired bird in Korea Town, but when the people started laughing and clapping the tired went away. There is no better feeling than making someone laugh and smile, whether it is in a silly costume or behind a mic. In this ever maz’ed world where I feel like an awkward outsider, it’s where I feel most at home.

I also thought of my Nunni and Pop Pop. My Nunni had acted in local theatre, and was very proud of me for going to New York to chase rainbows. Pop Pop passed Thanksgiving Day, but his last big outing was my book signing in Pittsburgh. He was so proud of me for writing that book, and would brag every time I was on television. I also thought of my great-grandfather Brucker, a man I have never met. His whole life he had never been more than a roll turner in the steel mill of Pittsburgh. However, he had been a sports nut who listened to several games at once on different radios in each room of his house. He would be so stoked about my job at Ranter, just as he was proud every time he saw my dad sing a solo in his church choir.

In my mind entered Joe and Chacho, my dearly departed friends. Joe got me to write again, and convinced me I had the talent to make people laugh at a time my spirit was crushed. Chacho always wanted to be someone, and would talk about his “famous friend” whenever I was on TV.

Then I thought of my fans, and how much they mean to me. Yeah, I am only starting to get a following, but it’s pretty sweet I must admit. I also thought of the young people who write to me telling me about how they dream of being like me someday. And then my father’s words echoed through my mind, “It is your job to hoist the next generation on your shoulders and bring them to another level.”

I also thought of how, despite being tired, this was only temporary. I always felt good again when I stepped onstage and heard the laughter. Sleep and some me time could cure tired. Nothing could scratch the itch that the spotlight and applause cures. As I go to the next level, I am bringing those around me with me on my journey, whether they are coworkers, friends, or family. I love what I do, and am blessed to do it in the greatest city in the world. My journey is not only mine but their’s as well, and I have to remember that.

It’s easy to contemplate life in suburbia when I am tired with a husband who will less than sexually satisfy me. However, it is just a passing thought.

Truth: I will run towards my dreams even if my legs fall off in the process. I will run towards my dreams even if it kills me. And if the journey kills me, they will have to pry the stars out of my cold, dead fingers. 

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

Twenty-Six

I was at Skipper and Wendell's graduation when I met their friend Johnny. Hanging out in Providence's Hope Club, Johnny mentioned it was his birthday. That Friday had been Wendell's birthday making them both born under the sign of Gemini. This makes sense. Wendell's specialty will be working with adolescent kids who suffer from eating disorders, addiction, and a host of other things. In addition, while it was a surprise because he was a former football player, Wendell worked with transgender teens and enjoyed the experience. He also lectures on the dangers of child abuse. Wendell's lectures are so entertaining they often don't want him to stop. While this was a surprise at the time it shouldn't have been. Wendell is a people person. He is funny, outgoing, and extroverted. Wendell has never been afraid to be himself. Most Gemini's are not.

Johnny was having a slight quarter life crisis because he was the big 2-6. He mentioned has his beautiful wife Leah sat there that he counted gray hairs on his head. I laughed. I remembered feeling the exact same way when I crossed the that mark in my life. Then I remembered how much fun that age had been. I was literally on national television every week. I was hosting a web show on the internet. My music was on the radio on the internet. And I had my very first publishing contract. Not to mention I was recognized on the street for the very first time. At the big 2-6 I learned the lesson of not limiting myself.

That is when I told Johnny how much fun I had at that age, and how he should look forward to aging. Johnny is a brilliant idea person who is currently using his medical knowledge in an independent business venture to help others. Like many Gemini's, he is creative, smart, and funny. I told him that at twenty six he would come into his own, and would shake off the molting skin from his earlier twenties. At twenty six I told him I saw the work from my earlier twenties begin to pay off. That he should look forward to each approaching year because it meant the coming and dawning of more new adventures.

Yesterday I wished I could have been around to take my own advice. I was totally not where my feet where when it came to my head. After receiving the shiteous news about my book signing event and the technicality that prevented me from achieving my goal, I just wanted to run into someone as an excuse to deck them. I ended up in Norwalk, CT where I delivered a telegram. Going back to the train station, I crossed the street and was almost run over several times by the worst drivers ever. There is something about New England drivers that makes me nervous. In Rhode Island it is worse, not only do they break traffic laws, but when they see a pedestrian they drive faster. It was the same in Norwalk. When you cross into NE, expect some terrible driving. Move over Asian driver stereotype, meet the New England drivers.

As I was unintentionally playing chicken with the cars, I remembered my boss from the web channel. I often said the universe spoke through this man. Once when I was green in my activism I had a blow up with an ex con over the fact that the accused have too many rights. After my meltdown my boss called me and said that sometimes my problem was I didnt let things go. Life was too short and sometimes you had to laugh it off.

I always thank God for my guy friends, gay or straight. Men tend to see the bigger picture. Women always concentrate on the minute details and we drive ourselves crazy. Maybe that is why it has taken women so long to advance. It's not that we aren't smart, we are very bright and more so than men. Hell, any dude with half a brain and is confident in his stride will agree. It's that we sweat the small stuff. However it is easy to arrive in that head space where I am the worst writer ever. No one wants to read my book. I suck. I am unfunny.

Just then I saw a Dunkin Donuts. I figured it was time for a frozen drink. It was hot outside and I figured it was Colatta time. So I ordered a Colatta. Then I called a friend to cry. Let me tell you I felt loads better. I got on the wrong side of the track and missed my train. But it gave me time to cool off and get my head together. I got back to Manhattan and met some friends. On my way I saw an old friend from college and told him all about my book. Yes, my book. The land of the written word. I am F. Scott Fitzgerald meets David Sedaris in my mind. My former classmate was impressed. Suddenly I began to feel better. I wasn't a complete waste as a person let alone a writer.

Then I saw Arianna Huffington's video of her commencement speech to Smith College. I have never been about these things, I didnt even walk at my own. I had finished in December and was working. But in her speech she spoke about the importance of sleep and how at the Huffington Post she had nap rooms. So I went to sleep and slept like ten hours. And how I am recharged. Ms. Huffington also spoke about redefining the metric of success. I know I put a lot of pressure on myself. It is hard not to as a woman. Sometimes I have to realize there is more to April Brucker than the reality star, comedian, ventriloquist, writer, and singer. Still it is hard, really hard.

This morning because it is hot I decided to go to the pool. On my way I saw an old friend. When I was twenty four I worked as a flier person for a strip club with his bestie. We talked. Twenty-four was one of the lowest points of my life. I was out of money, going no where, and the career was stalled. I spoke to him for a few minutes and he was really impressed when he found out about my book. I felt good. It always feels good to laugh with an old friend. In that covo, I realized how far I had come since that time. This week so many people have told me how proud they are of me. Whether it is my boss telling me no matter how famous I get I still must deliver telegrams. Or my sound engineer Archie who can use dope and many moons effectively in a sentence. Oh and in there are some of my fans pushing my book.

As I continued my journey to the pool I began to realize at twenty six I experienced what is known as Amazon Feminism, doing and living in the absence of a man. At twenty six I was on my own for the first time in forever and paying my own way. I didnt need a guy. I think that is when the chip on my shoulder that took steroids that turned into a cinderblock began. Some of it is being a career woman, choosing to make this my entire life and not have the husband or the family like many of my former female classmates are. Some of it is the stubbornness of going a path that is dark, uncertain, and unsure and for the first time seeing results.

I also discovered how much fun the pool at my gym was at twenty six. While I have plenty of friends in the free weight area, the people in the pool are happy. It's because they can swim, talk, laugh, and lay of the sun deck.

Then I remembered my boss from the internet channel talking to me, at twenty six. I was green in my activism and got into another one of my spats. As usual, he was stuck telling me it wasn't that serious. Then I realized that it wasn't that serious. This wasn't a road block but a temporary traffic jam. My publisher is currently on it. At that moment it hit me, there were two lessons that twenty six taught me. One, sometimes you need to go back to basics. Two, sometimes you need to cool off.

And that is when I dove into the pool.

Love

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

Egg Drop Soup and Old Friends

Yesterday wasn't such a hot day. I was sick. My body hurt. Walking up the stairs was a chore. Not to mention I had the runs, I know, overshare. Anyway, I called my mommy with all my health concerns like I always do. My mom said it was lack of protein. But I am always getting protein. She said it was bad protein. I mentioned I had been eating a lot of cart food and she said that was it. But my food cart is usually pretty good. Maybe I had gotten the old Denny's Style Rainbow Meat. Either way, my mom recommended a chicken from the supermarket. But I had been getting the runs so badly that nothing was staying down. So I figured chicken tomorrow,soup today.

The Chinese place around the corner serves the most delicious Egg Drop Soup in the world. I had some and it was like heaven. My stomach settled and I began to feel relaxed and went out like a light. Not only did it taste good, but that settled my stomach. I slept for a few hours, just tired from a week steeped in action. Monday I had a gig in Westchester. Tuesday I had some book stuff. Wednesday more book stuff. And yesterday I donated one of my books to a worthy cause.

I woke up for a little bit, fought with an old friend online, had some iced cream, and went to sleep.

The Egg Drop Soup had helped. My stomach was settled,just a little tired.

When I woke up I saw an old friend Maura McCarthy decided to follow me on Twitter. We had done a theatre camp together when we were kids in Pittsburgh. She looked good, had become a red head, and was acting in LA. I had remembered liking Maura and it had been forever since we spoke. I tweeted at her and said I was glad she was still acting.

Maura tweeted back and said that indeed it had been a long time and she saw my article in xoJane! I was like wowsa! Way to reconnect. In case you have not seen my article here it is xo http://www.xojane.com/sex/i-am-a-female-ventriloquist-who-got-asked-to-have-a-threeway-for-money-with-my-female-puppet

This was awesome. My friend Mandy Stadtmiller, who is utterly amazing, got me to write the piece. The whole experience has been exciting.

Anyway, it made my morning. I am feeling better today. Also am getting my first royalty check for my book in the mail. SO EXCITED!

EVERYTHING IS COMING UP ROSES.

OKAY CRAY CRAY, STOP WRITING IN CAPS!!!!!


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


Come to my book signing
December 27, 2012 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Public Library
5100 W. Library Ave
Bethel Park, PA

When To Throw in the Towel?....A Week's Journey

Sometimes the show biz dream is more like a dream. There are the lights, the cameras, the red carpet. One or two things happen. One you get them for a brief wrinkle in time but then much like coming down from a controlled substance, it sucks when you have to return to the real world and deal with the fact that nothing lasts forever and you are back to the grind. Or your alarm clock rings. Often it is a combination of both.

This past week I have been doing some thinking. Is this whole dream really worth it? A lot of it has been that I have been walled up in my house with the hurricane and all and have too much time in my head. My head can be like a haunted house when I am isolated and alone. Then again that is anyone. Here I am twenty eight. Although it is still young I am hardly a child, hardly the eighteen I was when I came to the city to attend NYU. Many of my normie friends have seemingly moved forward with their lives in the way that normal people do move forward. They have things like a house, a spouse, perhaps a child or two or three, a car, and not to mention a job with benefits as well as savings. I on the other hand feel like a perpetual Peter Pan. Held back and retarded in some ways because I am chasing that elusive and invisible star called my pipe dream, I live in a shoe box. There is no spouse because in between delivering the telegrams, writing, and the comedy gigs with my puppet children I dont have time to date. As for children I have puppet children. Those ingrates always eat up my money. The job with bennies is nonexistant, and savings, arent those for rich people?

Sometimes the dream turns into a nightmare. When I was a kid I had an acting teacher, a former NYU grad bitter and hardened from years of rejection and now reduced to being a housewife and mother, give us the horror stories. She said a lot of people wasted their youth waiting tables and chasing something that might never materialize. She said people approached industry people for a job and they were dodgy because they didnt have one for them and it's just the way it went. She said flat out, "If you can picture yourself doing something else do it." I had an acting teacher in college who was similar. She had been a favorite, slated to be a star but it didnt happen and now she was back to the fold because it was better than waitressing. Everytime it was bitterness. At the time it was alarming, but now I understand. This dream is a lot of late nights, a lot of uncertainty. There are a lot of talented, well trained people tending bar. There are a lot of morons that are stars. There is the looks factor but when those fade you are back at square one. Then it's who you know and who you blow but that only takes you so far. Some of it is luck. It is all the intangible.

A lot of people I know have left the business in the last few years. It is like dealing with a bunch of scorpions sometimes. There are only so many spots and everyone wants to claw each others eyes out, and it's never fair. One woman I deliver telegrams with is back in school part time for physical therapy. Her fiance says she doesnt make enough and needs to make more for them to get married. As a liberated woman it is easy for me to say that she shouldn't give up her hard earned dreams for some man. But the fact of the matter is, in this day and age both husband and wife have to work, especially if they want to have a child. Plus the fact of the matter is, my friend wants to have a house and have a baby. At a certain point in your life you get sick of the insecurity show business offers, and how you have to deal with phantom factors. Slugging it out on your own gets to be old. It's not about the baby or the house or even the man who's commitment and love are so so, my friend is getting tired and is asking herself, "Can I do this forever?"

Another woman I came across used to perform at UCB quite a bit but got tired of being what she calls "a delusional actress." She thought she was going to make it and after a while got tired of working promos. Now she uses her skills as a storyteller working as a special ed teacher. This particular woman doesn't regret her flight but says it was worth the journey.

I was at the PIT last Saturday after a show and a former classmate of mine, a fabulous actress, revealed she no longer acts and does makeup. She was talking to a friend of hers. Both had done an internship and were burnt out on performing. While the other woman was still performing, she said it best, "You are either one of the cool kids or you are not."

That hit me like a knife in the gut. So correct. Since things have started to turn around for me in 2010, I have had the chip on my shoulder about not being a cool kid. I am not male which works against me in comedy. Rather, I am female and in my act stand up to men. Not to mention I have a puppet which is a strike against you. Despite my television time and my worldwide fan base, I still constantly have to prove myself and apologize for never being cool enough and never being male enough and am still the bridesmaid. Actually make that retarded flower girl. However, because of my exposure I have done things with the cool kids from time to time, boring people for the most part. The Golden Children have been forced to swallow me. Still, while some of it is revenge some of it has produced a chip on my shoulder that I have yet to shake off.

After a while not being a Golden Child gets tedious. How hard to I have to work and prove myself? How often should I apologize for being hard working and ambitious simply because it lets some man sleep better or makes some overweight woman feel unthreatened?

As I felt my self-doubt pang I picked up a Backstage to see what auditions were being listed. One of the articles was "How Do You Know When It's Time to Quit?" I read it hoping it would guide me. While it mentioned Louis CK as making it in middle age he is a man and that is more likely to happen to him than anyone. It asked if I was being called regularly to audition, yes. It asked if I had a respected agent or manager, no. It asked if I was well known-well I am a brand. Still I felt baffled. It said do the five year check see how you feel.

I then spoke to my mom. She pointed out that if I worked a full time job I would be getting unemployment for the natural disaster that just occurred. I told her I wasnt so sure about that and no one even those will full time jobs could get anywhere because there were no trains or gas. My mom agreed. In the next sentence however she told me how proud she was of me and to keep up the good work. Still I was confused.

All signs were pointing to exit it seemed. Where would I go? What would I do? I was unsure but had felt so sure when I embarked on my dream. Where were the signs pointing? So I went to my tarot cards. I drew Judgment which meant the end of a phase. Then how I felt was the Tower, which meant disruption and is never good. For what was going for me was Death. Total ending. What was going against me was the moon, which basically means my perspective was muddying the waters. The outcome was the chariot which meant all outcomes were ending in victory. Now I was enlightened and confused.

Just then, I asked the facade a random question about a boy I met. Without my googling or planning or even knowing, something nuts happened. The Amazon ad for my book popped right up. There I was on my cover in my little heart costume. Excited, I took a screen shot with my phone and called my mom. She was excited and told me that she loved how things were coming together. She also expressed that she was printing it down and putting it in a scrap book.

Then it hit me. Maybe I wasnt a Golden Child but that was a really bad Eddie Murphy movie, and I had won the respect of many of those folks because of my ability to be myself. God didnt help me because I was lucky, He helped me because I got off my butt and helped myself. Plus I never spoke victimese about how I wasn't one of the cool kids when things were down, I just kept chugging. On every forum I have ever been dissed on, and there have been a few, someone always chimes in about what a hard worker I am. Suddenly I knew the answer to my question. The answer wasn't to go. Just like my single that was number one for five weeks on the internet my answer was to "stay."

Sure the cash would come, and it would come soon. The recognition was coming as well. The surprise of my little pop up put a little pep in my step. Not to mention my book is being reviewed by Mensa. It was God basically saying, "Listen, I got you. It's gonna be in my time, not your time. And I am always on time. But it's coming so be ready. So shut the fuck up and stop whining."

As I exited my house to get a sandwich and soda, much needed solid food, I saw a familiar face. It looked like my deceased friend Joe. But then I remembered it couldn't have been. I remember when Joe was alive and when he spoke to me through Thomas John, dead talker, he told me to relax and not to push so hard for things. Let them come to me. The universe was also telling me to chill the hell out. I could live with that.

And I made the decision not to throw in the towel but to battle harder than ever. Those Golden Children will one day tell stories of how they knew April Brucker before she was a star. With that I began my next project, writing the musical version of my book.

Love April

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

877-Buy-Book

www.buybooksontheweb.com

Three dollars from every purchase goes to benefit victims of Hurricane Sandy

Sigh.....

It has been a busy weekend. It is a bad thing because I am tired, but it is a good thing because I am MAKING MONEY. Friday I was Marilyn on Long Island and then I did an awesome show with awesome comedians at Broadway Comedy Club. Yesterday I was starting to feel the heat of a long week. It was long Sunday last Sunday where I did an errand in Queens and then got onstage. Then Monday brought delivering a singing pickle and performing at night. Tuesday was auditioning for a puppet show, getting my book into the store, and appearing on CFR with my boys which meant not one but two trips to Jersey. Wednesday was pure work and stalker drama. Thursday was a falling out with a booker, drama with Marilyn transportation and finally a radio appearance. Friday was Marilyn in LI and then an awesome show in which I sold two books. Saturday was the singing chicken at Kessler.

It was in West Orange which means its not a hop, skip, and a leap. It's a bus trip. I took the subway, PATH, and then the bus. Everyone was nice to me. But when I got on the bus, for some reason East Orange has a lot of Nigerians. Anyway they wear this freaking perfume, this freaking coca butter crap, and this shit in their hair. Between the three and all the Nigerians getting on at once it started to heat the air up. Plus the bus driver turned on the heat. Needless to say I got car sick. Nothing against Nigerians, but because I didnt grow up around that crap and I dont wear it I am just not used to it. It's more a reflection of me and less of them. Still it made me sick as hell. Plus the bus trip was bumpy, there were a lot of hills and winding roads, and I was leaning forward to make sure I didnt miss my street. When I got out I was SICK.

I walked to the alloted destination, and ended up buying a Poki Mon card from a kid, fire. Anyway, my stomach hurt but the cool air was making me feel better. I jay walked on a busy street before meeting a sidewalk, and then walked up a huge hill getting my aerobic exercise.

The delivery itself was good and the children on the floor sort of held me hostage. My lady had a spinal chord injury. The bottom floor were amputees and the top floor brain injuries. There is something about delivering there that makes me think twice about all the jay walking I do on the regular. Only the day before had I been in an eatery, the hero of the night, and someone said, "Do you know she's a great comic?"

To which my buddy the GM replied, "Yeah, she has been on TV."

The only TV show it was looking like I was going on was the 6 o'clock news, or I was going to end up a patient at Kessler. Welcome to the wonderful world of show business. Friday you are killing and selling books, Saturday you are jaywalking playing Russian Roulette in order to get on that stage. But you are using the gift God gave you to make people laugh. So jaywalking is only a small price to pay and a risk to take because this woman seriously enjoyed her chicken.

However I took a car back. The people at Kessler are great and I was a hit.I can wait to become a patient.

The bus trip back was slightly better. When I got out I thought I was going to die. Needless to say, tums were my bestie. I met a friend in a diner and we laughed about it, and then I got a chance to bump into Maddog Mattern, road stink and all, who gave me a big hug.

Tonight I am Claudette Colbert.

When tonight it over, it is bubble bath time.

Love, April

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

www.buybooksontheweb.com

877-buy-book

Family Support

Last night I was on CFR and Sean Morton drove me to and from the train station. During our trip back we talked about comedy and the subject of bitter comedians came up. We both stated that we were thankful we were generally optimistic, hardworking people and had a support system to fall back on. For Sean it is his wife. I have only met her once but remember liking her a lot. Sean stated that his wife was awesomely supportive, coming to every single one of his shows openly supporting his quest for a comedy career. He said, "My wife is great."

I was like wow, does she come in a boy version, seriously?

But then I thought of my family and how awesomely supportive they are. My mother has been my biggest fan since day one. Almost ten years ago to the day, I was getting ready for my first round of college auditions here in the city. I didnt want to try for NYU but my mother made me. We went, we prepped, we curled my hair, and we went in. Two weeks later I came home from school and on my front lawn was a congrats sign made by my mother. Before that she was always there when I was doing cable access, as either a secret director or making sure the crew was fed during my long, arduous shoots. When I started doing comedy here in the city, my mom had me mail her the venues I played at and printed out the webpages of the places and made a scrapbook. She has come to see me several times in the city to perform and has always been a show in herself taking photos of me and my friends. Whenever I am down my mother says, "What have you done for your career?" And then she has been so incredible with my book. She took it to our local library, the one I got my first library card in, and they now have a barcode on it. My mom is one of those folks in my life that whatever she asks for she gets, end of story. Iam grateful for her.

Of course there is my baby sister who since day one has either acted as my graphic artist or camera person behind the scenes. When her ex-boyfriend lived here in the city, they used to pop into my shows as a surprise. She even did some of the leg work in the early stages of my book publication for me. They are currently assembling funding, but I will soon be a part of an instruction video with my puppets for medical school students sponsored by Brown University Alpert Medical School. This is a gig my baby sis scored for me.

Of course there is my dad, who has also been there since day one. He is the man I go to for honest feedback. Believe it or not, my Pops is actually an amateur joke writer. While he may put on the suit and tie as a tax lawyer and college professor, he spends his spare time writing jokes. Since my advent into show business, my dad's love of telling jokes has only gotten stronger. He is always calling me with new ideas for jokes and bits. Some are actually half decent, others like all ideas need work. Aside from that, my dad always taught us to work hard. While he was a tougher sell on the pipe dream, I have earned his support and respect because I am driven and refuse to give up. My dad also told me when I scored my first big gig in NYC that, "When you are there, be nice and listen. Be nice to everyone you meet. Afterwards send a thank you note. If you do they will hire you back again. I am telling you as someone from the business world, no one likes an asshole." And they did rehire me. My Pops has good advice. Who knows, when he retires maybe he will be my opening act. One of my comedian friends said I must stop this now. But my Pops calls Romney a poser on the regular. Maybe this could work.

Then there is my brother and sister in law who watch all my shows. They both are currently working in a hospital so they cant travel as much. But during one comedy festival in PA my brother's brother in law Alfred was informed I was in the area. He was working in a hospital at the time and we didnt hear so it was like, whatever, he's busy. But when me and Paul Hooper, another comedian and funny guy were greeting audience I hear an "APRIL!" I turn around and it is Alfred. He picked me up, gave me a big hug, told me he enjoyed my set and off to the afterparty we went. Best surprise ever. On that vein my sister in law's bestie Kristen follows me too. She posts of my wall everytime she catches me on TV or something. It has been cool.

Then there is my cousin who is a painter in Brooklyn who occasionally pops into my shows with his artist friends and then even gets me gigs sometimes too by word of mouth. Next to him are his sisters, both dancers who's friends follow my exploits.

Then there are my grandparents, supportive as ever. My grandfather just had eye surgery and stayed up all night to finish my book. My grandmother is currently on page ten, but she is reading me in between reruns of Murder She Wrote.. My godmother I believe is also starting on it as well.

My aunts and uncles are cool too. My Aunt Chris and Uncle Bob brought my cousins Bobby and Kelsey to NYC and they popped into one of my shows. The clan also came enmasse to see me in Pittsburgh. My Aunt Rose purchased and read my book in a single night. My Aunt Diane, God bless her, purchased copies of my book for her and her kids. She also reads my blog on the reg, shout out to Bulger. My Uncle Joe and the fam came to visit me earlier this year in NYC with my three baby cousins who are oh so adorable. And then I get my baby cousins in Peters who when I was on the Britney Spears website told everyone that their cousin was famous.

Sure, they might drive me nuts and their logic might confound me. Sometimes, our political beliefs differ. However, at the end of the day I would have to say I really lucked out. I can't get much better than what I have. Wait a second, I wouldn't want anthing different than what I have. I can't get any better than what I have. Even when they are crazies they are my crazies, make fun of them and I will give you the People's Elbow. Yes, me. In the words of Joe Greene,"The four foot two inch white chick."

Make that five four.

Whatever, I am just trying to say I am grateful xo

Love, April

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

877-Buy-Book

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Marathon

Yesterday I found myself talking to a young man who has become like a little brother to me. He was auditioning for a show he really wanted to be in, but got cut in the final callback. Sad was an understatement, it was more end of the world permeating through his veins. He wanted this role badly. I know the feeling, I have been there many times. I told him what I once was told by a club owner after an unsuccessful audition when I was a mere lass, "This is a marathon not a sprint."

I remember when I was about his age it looked like I was going to be on a hit reality show they were casting for in NYC. My dad even talked to the president of CBS Music at the time. However, the contract sucked and there was no way I could afford to go to Hollywood. So I passed up the opportunity. I remember second guessing and my dad told me a story about how he was offered a job with Arthur Anderson and they invited him to move to DC. Something told him not to take it and we all know how that ended. Anyway, the show didn't happen, the production company went bankrupt, and it would have been a waste of my time. But when it all went down I was heartbroken. I remember at the time crossing paths with author Mary Karr who said to me, "You are angry you didn't get what you wanted. Sometimes I look back at what I wanted and I say, 'Thank God I didn't get what I wanted.'"

I have been thinking of Mary's words lately. Shortly after the reality show debacle I did another infamous TV appearance with May Wilson where we met Jerry Springer, we all know how that turned out. Apparently it was a big deal when meanwhile they okayed our jokes.....hmmmm. Anyway, we also filmed another pilot, were on WE, opened for Aretha and I thought I was on my way to becoming the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Well I didn't. Instead the day job I depended on dried up and my phone stopped ringing. It was the worst thing in the world. Where were the lights? Where was the red carpet? Why was everything falling through my finger tips like sand in the hour glass? At the time I felt like I was going to die as those around me seemed to be taking off like birds on flight. Meanwhile I was struggling harder than ever. Looking back at it, I wasn't ready for the spotlight. I was so stupid and so emotional I would have screwed it up. My career would have ended before it even started. Maybe the universe knew what it was doing when it cast that dye.

On the otherhand, I made it my business to become a good comedian. I got up everywhere and worked every odd job imaginable. I also did an indie film which upon release gets me fan mail still. I also started touring every weekend and really got comfy onstage. In addition I began street performing for as many as eight hours a day every day. Sure it was ego reducing, bare bones, but it's what I had to do to keep from slitting my wrists. Sure enough, my hard work helped open doors and people took notice, enough to get me my first hosting job on web tv. The following year I started producing my own videos and interviewing celebs with my puppets. Then I began writing a book. After that I was on a successful reality show with a successful press tour and became a talking head with my puppet children and blah blah blah. The rest is history.

I was angry about being fired from the club I hosted at for a while. Looking back, I am glad they fired me. If I would have been slaving there I would have never embarked on the endeavors that I did. Not to mention published a book. The crazy thing is, they called me begging me to take my old job back. I was like, "Um....no."

There are so many people who sprinted the race and are no longer in it. One young woman I knew back in the day was slated to be a star. Instead she dropped out of the game, got married, and had a kid. There were a few like that. The dream was glamorous but the pursuit was not. Several folks I went to college with, all extremely talented, are now doing other things. The one had the voice of an angel. It's a shame. A guy who was like my older brother that had a very promising career basically drank it away. He came around less and less until he disappeared entirely. Another young woman who was slated to be very big disappeared from view, and the last time I saw her lost her luster. I also found out another woman I shared the stage with many times that had the gift to the point where it was hard not to be a little jealous threw in the towel, got into a relationship, and left the city. She says she is happy. Yes, the lifestyle is exhausting and I am glad she is at peace. But these people were supposed to be big stars. There is not a Where Are They Now? for those that never were. If there was a Where Are They Now? for those that almost were most of the contestants from Last Comic Standing would be making an appearance.

One alum from such a show and I dated for a brief minute. We hit it off at first, but then he took me out and started picking my brain about my career and my finances. Once proud with a bunch of TV credits and now wandering the Lower East Side on a radio show that no one listens to looking for the meaning of life, he was picking my brain. Maybe he had status I did not because he has been around forever, but it has been forever since he had a job. The whole experience was strange, sad, and educational. Sometimes success in show business is not long lasting but short lived. He is probably bent over by the sidelines in this marathon, holding his side because he smokes so damn much expecting a woman to give him a job. What a user. YUCK. My revenge is not to diss him in convo. When his name comes up I act cool. Instead it's to have the better career. At this rate it's not hard to do in comparison to this fallen should have been star.

Then on the flipside, there is another alum who people trashed when she started to get recognition and television time. Because of her age and gender, they bashed her giving her a horrid nickname and rumors spread about how she was getting ahead. I will say this, whether or not the rumors are true, she has been my friend since things have started happening for me. Never once has this young woman not congratulated me. Even before it all started coming together, she never stopped knowing me on the street. Success has not and did not change her. A great many people have stopped speaking to me. A great many so called friends have not congratulated me. She on the otherhand, always supportive. I think she knows what it is like to have people say things that aren't true, and she knows what it is like to run the marathon and sometimes feel like you are dying from your last breath. A surprise friend, I treasure her. And I also know to have her back in return.

There are probably people who didnt think I would last, the folks who had the boring acts who have faded into the fabric of obscurity. They laughed at me, and got spots I didn't because they were boring. They never had to struggle or fight for anything. The second they ran into a road bump they quit. Rejection was too much. Tanking hurt. People ripping into them was just too much to bear. So they hung it up. I don't feel bad though, they deserved it. Welcome to my world people. Stay awhile. Don't worry, it sucks. But so does kharma.

I am back at the same place I was years ago, where things are beginning to happen. Scared to hell is the understatement. The fear they will slip through my fingers is ever present. Things are better than ever as they are coming together. I am back at that spot where everything is hitting. This time my attitude is different. Instead of sprinting and hoping to catch my star at the three mile mark I am more or less on a nice jog. I take each break as it comes and now have a sense of humor about the whole process. I now have fans who are very loyal and that are buying my book. I have a stalker or two and laugh that off. I kill onstage and brag about it still. I am a meglomaniac that way. I bomb onstage and cry wanting to stuff my face. I care. I will be getting up more now that things are coming together with my book, in part to promote but also because it is where my puppet children and I are at home. For as much as I want to walk away, I have to be onstage or else I get into trouble.

An old acting teacher of mine classified me as a have to, as in I have to do this or else I will probably die or kill someone else. Sometimes I wish it were different but as the spirit of the dead rapper Eazy-E once told me in a dream, "Sweetheart, it's not about what you want."

Josh Homer once said it best to me. While Josh slams me for being a meglomaniac who freely brags and self-promotes, on the otherhand he also guides me with words of wisdom and a balanced Libra perspective. (Somehow he got the scales and I didn't). He once said to me, "The important thing is, you enjoy the journey."

With that I'll shut up.

Love April

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

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As If We Never Said Goodbye (Sunset Boulevard)

I have written a few blogs about how I was angry at the NYC standup scene. I had a falling out after leaving an open mic aka unpaid galley slave bitch position at a club after I busted my ass for them. I also wrote about the pain of busting my ass and being passed over time and time again for lesser comedians because they fit neatly into the man made box but I didn’t. Not to mention living on the road, sleeping in the same clothes because I traveled the tri-state, and all the perils that come with pursuing a life of passion. However, the truth is, I hate to admit it, standup is my home.

Around the summer of last year I was starting to feel the burn out. I was taking less dates because I was writing a book, producing a webseries and then not to mention shooting another pilot and pitching another. I was busy, just not in the clubs. I was tired of the late nights, the politics, the weight gain from eating fried chicken when the industry got me down. I started to ask myself if the standup dream was even worth it. Here I was with a good education. Here I was with a great mind. Here I was telling dick jokes and thankful if I got a few bucks from generous drunks out of the bucket.

The problem was unfortunately was that standup was the only destination for me. Like so many mice, I was looking for the cheese in the same place when the cheese had been moved long ago. My friend Nicho Mendez who works as a life coach gave me this analogy not so long ago. Being the best and the funniest was not going to get me where I needed to go. I had also started to settle. The dream became less to be great and more of being a working comic. I didn’t mind being poor for as much as my mother said I couldn’t be poor and uninsured forever. I saw all the people making it and steadily I became allergic to success. I told myself that the odds of me becoming a superstar were slim and none and became more and more bitter.

Around October of last year something happened that changed me forever. My buddy Roger died. While technically a heart attack took him, Roger had battled for a long time with addiction. Sure, part of being Roger’s friend was not killing him most of the time. But after he died I realized the boy was smarter than I thought he was. He lived his life fearlessly, and perhaps that is the reason he is no longer with us. He lived his life fully, even until the end calling me at two o’clock in the morning with his misadventures. At the same time he never felt he deserved better than the back hand life gave him. When Roger died something in me snapped.

I don’t know if it was for better or for worse but I started to chase opportunities with a ruthlessness and fullness that I never had. I suddenly wasn’t afraid to talk to casting agents and producers. I wasn’t afraid to be laughed at. I also wasn’t afraid to tell people to fuck off and to walk away. I also knew it was time to say I deserved better. I also knew it was time to move up, up and away into more opportunities. I remember Roger once telling me, “People are in our past because we passed them over. When we look back at they are right where we left them doing the same things and even wearing the same bad clothes.”

He also said once when I got some air space, because Roger’s favorite subject was himself, and I was bitching about my life, “Either be Queen Bee or get the fuck out of the ball.”

Something about those words clicked and I found myself definitely moving in a good direction. I left a bitch position I had at a club where I was much underappreciated because I didn’t feel like settling. I also found myself using my talents in other ways and had a very busy calendar whether I was filming a movie, writing a script, looking for a literary agent, being submitted and interviewed for other TV specials, doing man on the streets or whatever else. I began doing less and less standup. While the sets I put away for the most part were good, I wasn’t chasing bookers like I used to.

As for my relationship with the standup community it became a strained one. For starters, I felt alienated because there were people talking trash about me for doing a reality show, for doing a press tour, for doing all these things. Then of course there were others angry at me for leaving my open mic even though the club in question was shady about letting me go. Plus I got tired of the gossip and removed myself. I would see my fellows at shows here and there but didn’t really care to see who was doing what and which club owner was on the shit list that week. When I did that I actually enjoyed the standup more and the bullshit less.

I remember one night I bedazzled myself and performed at the Stonewall Inn hosted by my friend Steve Ryan. Not only did I have a fun night, but I did well. Afterwards there was a dance party and I ended up dancing with a little gay boy who fixed my strap, a lesbian in a lumberjack flannel, and an older gay blonde dude who was so drunk he kept calling me Britney. It had been a long time since I had a dance party after a show. Hell, it had been a long time since I had that much fun at a show.

A week later I did my friend Nate Mitchell’s show for the first time. It was a good night in that I did a good set. I also got to see a lot of good comedians work. While we were all good, it seemed I wasn’t as sharp as I once was because I wasn’t getting the stage time I once did. I told myself in my heart it didn’t matter. I had been getting more TV time than anyone. But still, after that night there was something in me that missed being part of the community.

A week and a half after Nate’s show, I ended up going to South Jersey to perform with Andy Julia and the Mixed Nuts Comedy People. I almost bowed out because it was in South Jersey, I would have to go through Philly and there was no fucking way I was going there at 1 am after the show ended. Andy told me he would get me there hell or high water, and I could sleep on his couch because he lived with his wife and five daughters and nothing was going to happen to me. I ended up getting a ride from Craig Loydren, who lives on Staten Island though, and the car ride with him was a blast! Of course it was the night the world was set to end and we pranked our friend Rich Carucci and said, “What do you mean Rich, you weren’t chosen?”

To which Rich responded, “Hell no, I am telling dick jokes tonight.” When that happened I just felt this surge of laughter coming through me. For as much as the comedy elistists pissed me off, I did have friends in the community and missed them. I also missed the car trips, the stories, and the general bonding the road gives a comic.

When I arrived at the show I met Andy and his wife Stacy. And I also had an amazing set! Actually, it was more of a high than the best prescription diet pills with the most speed one could have and trust me I have been on all manners of diet drug. It was a fun night but I had to cut out early because Craig had another spot down the road and it made more sense for me to go with him than for him to do his gig, get me, and then go back. You get the picture. But while I was there I took a fan photo or two but I was also approached by a young comedian who told me that not only had he seen some of my clips but he looked up to me. At that moment it clicked. It didn’t matter what I thought of the industry. There were young comedians looking up to me and some possibly emulating me somewhere. That was a cool feeling.

A week and a half later my spread with my puppet children appeared in Chat Magazine. I got fan mail from the UK but also received an online message from a young ventriloquist who wanted to Chat with me. That was the coolest thing in the world. This kid was fifteen, did his ventriloquism at school, was a little bit of a misfit but then again I was at his age too. All and all adorable. We chatted about ventriloquism and stuff and he gave me the name of his figure. Then it clicked again. Young people are looking up to me and following me. Therefore I owe it to them to get visible in the clubs again because if I built it they will come.

However I was still reticent. While I would take bookings if they came my way I wasn’t chasing the standup dream the way I used to. I told myself the art form was dead. There was no way I was doing xyz. I had paid certain dues. On my way to meet a friend last night I ran into Jamie Rosen who was on her way to host a mic for a friend of ours. She asked if I was coming. I told her I was meeting my friend to jog. I was in a foul mood and was in no mood to be around groups of people. However she told me about an open mic she has every Thursday. At that moment it occurred to me, whether or not I liked it I was being beckoned back into the standup world.

Last night I found myself jogging with my favorite new friend Nicho Mendez. Actually Nicho jogged and I jogged/walked. Never call a gay man a sissy. Odds are they can kick your ass. Nicho proved to be just what I needed that night. He told me this wonderful story about two mice and the cheese. One day the cheese was moved and the two mice went back to the same place to find the cheese. They went back day after day after day. One day one mouse changed the routine and went to a few different places and found the cheese while the other mouse waited for the cheese to return but never did. The mouse who changed his route was happy whereas the mouse who kept waiting for the cheese went hungry and was pissed.

The point of Nicho’s story is that change is the only constant we have in life. Sure, the standup was the only way for me but then the cheese was moved. I found the cheese. Well the cheese has been moved again. And this time it is time for me to get back into the clubs and slug it out again. Not to mention the cheese has been moved again in the sense that my attitude is different. The people who dissed me a while ago aren’t my friends and they never were. Instead of being bitter I tell myself it was a relief to find out before they fucked me over when it came to money. And their anonymous dissing got me on Gawker, a website their names will never be mentioned on let alone be a main page entry. So I win, hah!

The jog with Nicho also put things into a good perspective too. When Nicho jogs he tells me when he puts the right foot down he says thank and then when he puts the left foot down he says you. That’s thank you. And during that ass beating it occurred to me that I should be saying thank you more. I have problems that many performers would die for. I have a life many would kill for. I have the privilege of living my dream in the greatest city in the world.

It also occurred to me that I had not chosen standup. It had chosen me. A comedy show at Boston one rainy night that I entered just to escape being drenched during a period when I was going to leave NYC and abandon my dreams changed everything. The standup world was beckoning me and I had no choice but to come.

Ventriloquism had chosen me as well. I had been thirteen, shy, and discovered one night by accident while watching TV that I could talk without moving my lips. Eight puppets later I am still at it. Not to mention one of the few like me running around.

After I got home that night I got several emails about shows people wanted me to perform in or shows people wanted me to host because they had heard good things about me. And I also realized there was no law in the land saying I couldn’t do my standup, produce my webseries, be a reality TV star, pitch my book, and pursue an acting and TV career. In my quest for my own manifest destiny and not settling after my friend Roger’s departure I realized in almost leaving standup completely I was punking out. While the might brag about knowing me in the after life, because he saw me on TV once and bragged about knowing me when he was alive, I know he would be disappointed to see me selling myself short.

So I am not settling. I am reaching for the stars. I owe it to all my friends and fans, alive or dead, to do so. I owe it to my mother in Pittsburgh to do so as well. Sure, I may have wanted to give up the standup completely by doing less stage time and cutting corners. But life is not about what you want sometimes. I am being beckoned back to the Mother Ship. I don’t know where my spots will come but they will come. Why? Because they are coming already. My fans already are inquiring about where I am next. Oh the problems I have.

As I get ready to host an event tonight for an organization that raises money for third world economies, A Global Friendship, I think of how standup got me this job. I think of all the wonderful things it got me. I also tell myself I am not settling. I will ruthlessly bust my ass whether it is onstage or anywhere else. This time I wont let the standup politics get me down. Oh no. Instead I will remember those fellow comedians of mine sometimes are just jealous nobodies who will always be jealous nobodies. They don’t pay my bills and they don’t do the hiring. They don’t count as far as opinions go, and like assholes everyone has one. I stick with the ones I like and trust and leave the rest. If people have an issue with my ambition and the way I chase my star fuck em. I guess I wont be seeing them on the way up.

Out of the corner of my eye I see my faithfully departed friend Roger, fresh from his botox with his Gucci bag saying, “Either be Queen Bee or get the fuck out of the ball.”

With each step out my door to my event tonight I will hear my friend Nicho telling me, “The left foot is thank and the right foot is you.”

With each step I say thank you.