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.

Rubadubdub

The puppets are in the tub. Yes we all took a bath. Sweetie Pie had an important presentation at school and May....well.....the department of health called.

While Sweetie Pie thoroughly enjoyed the scrubbing don't ask and don't tell about the red on May's teeth

 

Vogue (Madonna)

I am sad to announce the death of my friend Roger Ferrer. A few years ago when I met him, I remember being arrested by his huge laugh which could light up the room. Roger in one word was a character. He always had the scoop on everyone. Back in the day Roger had been a part of the ballroom scene. He had walked with the House of Revlon and won in the Butch Queen category several times over. Roger and his faux hawk even made a cameo in one part of How Do I Look? To me Roger was that friend who always had tales of the fast life. He had been in the midst of that nucleus where the motto was live fast and die young.

One thing I loved about Roger was his honesty. Whenever we would see someone he had beef with he would tell me right out about the beef he had with them. Or when we saw someone he knew from back in the day Roger would tell me what had transpired. I once told Roger about someone I knew who was a pathological liar. Roger laughed and said, “I could never lie like that. I am such a jerkoff I would probably screw it up.”

Roger would always tell me about the Voguing he did back in the day as a member of the ballroom scene. In addition he would also tell me about all the scams those queens used to pull. One in particular was that the ball children as they were called would lift the credit card numbers of people they knew, use them in stores, and then order the stuff they needed for their little balls. Of course the merchandise would be delivered when the rip off victim was at work and the thief and company would pick it up when the trucks came. Yes, drag queens are the reason you need photo ID when you buy things at stores with a credit card.

It wasn’t just the balls for my friend but it was the drugs as well. Roger not only sold crystal meth when it was beginning to rear it’s head in the underground ball scene, but he also used it. I remember Roger would tell me the crazy stories of the places he had been and how at one time he was even a drug connect to Angel Melendez, the victim to Michael Alig. He also told me about the partying at the Limelight before the whole bloodbath happened, and how when that transpired he switched his drug selling spot to Kinkos. Walking through Chelsea with Roger was always a trip. Someone would wave to him and he would tell me what a freak they were back in the day. Or he would tell me the dirt about the gay porn store owners because he knew them personally. Roger also knew a few gay porn stars, and one thing about him was that he was the real deal. Once a guy was running his mouth about how he was some hustler back in the day. When he left Roger turned to me and said, “Hustler huh? Uptown at Paris Duprees huh? I never saw him once and I was there.”

Unfortunately Roger also paid the ultimate price for his drug use and drug selling. After being busted, Roger spent eighteen months in prison and got released on parole. Around the time he left us Roger was about complete with this part of his sentence. He also had contracted HIV and Hep C as a result of sharing needles and the unsafe sex associated with the crystal meth lifestyle. In addition he also had a heart condition which plagued him until he passed away. As a result Roger was always in and out of hospitals. Usually, he would lose his phone again, he was always big on doing that for some reason. However, no matter where he was hospitalized Roger would always, always, always ask for me. I never knew why but he always said to someone, “Please give April my number if you get a chance. Please tell her I am here.”

It was never a problem to visit Roger in the hospital. When I did he would usually have me smuggle him in food because he detested hospital cuisine. That’s when we would gossip and often I would sneak out long after visiting hours were over. Once Roger and I were so busy talking that I stayed well after midnight and the night security guard simply chuckled and let me out. Being Roger’s friend I got to know St. Luke’s quite well. Those hospital visits were always fun in a way. Once we had a mini Vogue off where he completely creamed me. Sure, he may have been sick but once a gay man always a gay man.

Roger was indeed a gay man and always had the best advice too. Once I was seeing a guy who was becoming clingy and annoying. Roger looked at me, put his glasses to his nose and said, “Ditch the bitch and make the switch.” I still quote him to this day and always will.

One person Roger loved more than anything in the world was his little step nephew named Pumpkin. Pumpkin was the son of his brother’s girlfriend. Roger’s brother was basically acting as the child’s father though. At the time that Roger was living with his brother his task was to babysit this little boy. Every night Roger would call me on the phone rattling about how Pumpkin had said some complex word or made an association. Glowing with pride, Roger would tell me about how the child had a bright future and about how little Pumpkin was destined for great things. Roger was one who also suffered from extreme nightmares and would call me in the middle of the night panicked. Mind you he was the only one allowed to do this without me taking my hands through the phone to choke him. I would ask Roger about Pumpkin and immediately he would light up and everything would be alright.

Though Roger was gay, no question about it, he still had the macho manly streak in him. When I was with him typical of the Latino male he would walk on the outside of the street. Not to mention Roger almost always paid when we went out. He would always tell me with him women never paid. Roger would be quick to inform me unlike a lot of gay men he had dated women and also had sisters therefore it wouldn’t make him feel like a man to have me pick up the tab ever. Not to mention Roger always had an opinion about who I dated as well. Usually when Roger didn’t like the sound of them there was a reason for it. The truth of the matter was, Roger was the real deal and he could spot a fake a mile away and made no bones about it. Sometimes I wish I would have listened more. The crazy thing was at the end of the night he always got all big brother on me walking me to my door or telling me, “There are a lot of bad people out there sweetie. Get home safely.”

For as crazy as Roger could be he also was insightful and had more clarity than anyone I ever encountered when it came to speaking about what he was going through. Not to mention while even at the end Roger could not avoid the bad boys and men who were wrong for him, same as yours truly, Roger didn’t want me to share the same fate. Once I was talking shit and Roger stopped me. Gripping my hand he looked me dead in the eye and said, “See how sick I am. You don’t want this sweetie.”

Towards the end of his life Roger was a regular brunch buddy of mine in between hospital visits. We would sit outside and check out the boys rating them on a scale of one to ten. We would giggle and gossip like, or as Roger put it, “a fag and his hag.” For as ill as Roger was he dreamed of doing better things with his life. He talked about going to Aveda to become a colorist, something I thought he would have been excellent at had he lived. He also wanted to go to Paris to live for a while. When I would talk to Roger I always spoke to someone with a good head on his shoulders and a mind like a steel trap. He was someone who was much smarter than he knew he was.

One of my last encounters with Roger I had met him and we were hanging out. He had just gotten out of the hospital and was having chest pains. Being in between houses he was currently homeless and was scared to go back because he thought they would discharge him because he was faking it. The way he was clutching his chest let me knew he wasn’t. After having sushi I insisted that he go to the hospital. So I threw him in a cab, paid for it (he insisted but I told him he had bought me sushi, this one was on me) and then dropped him in the emergency room. A few hours later I got a text from him, “I had a minor heart attack. You saved my life. Thank you.”

Roger was supposed to begin cardiac rehab but he didn’t want to because instead he wanted to go to Puerto Rico. Of course he also wanted to see Niagara Falls before he died as well. We were supposed to go to the Hamptons one weekend and that didn’t quite happen. When I chastised him for being such a bad patient, and Roger had his moments trust me, he said something so profound. He said, “I am always in and out of hospitals and am sick of it. The doctors will always be there. The sunset over Niagara  Falls might not be there tomorrow.” At the time I remember being angry with him for not taking care of himself, but looking back I think he knew he was going to leave us soon and wanted to make the most of his last days. The guy was right. Doctors will always be there same as the hospitals. Go Roger.

I heard my dear friend had a massive heart attack last week and something told me to check on him. When I don’t hear from him it is never usually good. Anyway, I was busy with the career and all so it slipped my mind. But when I heard the news it hit me like a ton of bricks. For as cliché as it sounds I felt like a piece of me had gone. Being Roger’s friend made me more careful with how I handled men because when you see a friend sick with HIV and other complications you wake up quickly and become very careful. Roger also made me want to stay clean, sober, and continue to fight the good fight. His body gave out long before his spirit did. I know he was proud of me for turning my life around and he basked in the glow of the fact that I was starting to make something of myself.

Once during one of my visits to the hospital  I told him I had been a part of Fashion Week with Betsy Johnson. As I was telling the story he stopped me and said, “You always  dress like you are broke. Stop dressing like you are broke when you see me.” Before I could even protest he waved his hand like he always did. As a result I started experimenting with new looks and followed his advice and the only reception I have gotten has been positive. People ask me what happened to me as if I grew a horn or a third head. Instead it was none of those things. A kick in the ass from a gay angel made me self aware and now not only do I look better but feel better.

Today as I dawn my makeup and dress in an effort to look like I am not broke I think of my dear friend Roger Ferrer. I think of a man who was always sharp, on point, the real deal, and never hesitated to call it like it was. I also think of someone who made me look within myself and not only made me dress better, but made me a better person. As I continue my climb up the ladder called life I will always remember my friend. Just because he is dead doesn’t mean that his story should not live on.

Roger sweetheart, I know you are in heaven. I know God took you because He needs angels. While we are on the subject don’t get into too much trouble with them because like me, you always want the ones that you can’t have. On the other hand, my only request is you save me one as well as a seat in the back. That way we can gossip about people like the old days. Just do me one favor, don’t get into a fight with a drag queen. This being Earth and you being in the sky I don’t know if Verizon is ever going to cover that one.

Rest in Peace Dear Heart.

Harmonica Sunbeam on May's World

Ballroom legend Harmonica Sunbeam and May Wilson yuck it up at the Cage in Hoboken. Two blondes yucking it up....

Follow this link to see all http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyAoX2JhfDs