Dear 2017

Dear 2017,

I am writing you kind of late. You were one of those years that was interesting to say the least. There were times you humiliated me beyond words. Yet those humiliations also made me reach into the stars and beyond, as you not only challenged my comfort zone but made me do things I never dreamed I could do.

There were some extreme disappointments. There were opportunities that fell through my hands like sand on a beach in a lesser Florida Key that I should have had. There were times I was passed over like an obscure government air field for things that should have been mine but there was simply a better landing pad elsewhere. And then those who got the things that should have been mine.....well......maybe it was theirs.

There was love that at times slipped away in various forms. There was the betrayal of a friend break up that still feels like a stab in the gut. There was the mentally ill former partner who's lies and deception still sting like an open wound, yet I am ashamed I still care as he struggles with both addiction and war related PTSD. There were the pharisees who claim to care for us both but smile with a gleam in their eyes as they are attacking two vulnerable people with the deadly sword of gossip and moral superiority. And then there are those who don't understand the dark and lonely road someone like myself is both destined and damned to travel as an activist, advocate, and friend of domestic violence survivors, queer people, and those who are HIV/AIDS positive.

Yet at the same time I really did fly in certain ways. I developed a one woman show that showcased at APAP. Although the woman I showcased for was a different story, I was invited to do a run of my quality product on Theatre Row. The show ran there twice more and both times was a success. The Lady and President Tramp also was nearly sold out at The Duplex and we were invited back there. Each time I polished the show and my work as a ventriloquist and puppeteer. I brainstormed, added a piano player, and learned what it really was to create, produce, and perform my own work. It nearly killed me each time, but like a good addict I always wanted more.

The Lady and President Tramp also made it's first festival. For most of my life, I have felt like I was the proverbial red headed step child as I am rejected for festivals like a desperate girl who wants a prom date. The festival not only taught me a lot, but Solocom was a ton of fun for lack of better phrasing.

I also built a bridge and got over myself. For years I have struggled with myself. It has been the patriarchy's image of what I should be coupled by the throngs of abusive men pervading my life and what was supposed to be my safe space. In the traditional sense, I have never been "beautiful" or "good enough." I shattered that by releasing April Unwrapped. I hope in challenging what it is to be "beautiful" and "good enough" I helped women everywhere. That is my goal. In a world of Miss American pageants and women presidents, we are forced to be one thing or another as society makes us one dimensional creatures. I hope April Unwrapped challenging what it is to be naked and vulnerable challenges all of that.

In that spirit I also released other merchandise, kicking it in the face of the former fiance who told me I was ugly and no one would ever want me. And I hope in doing that, not only did I challenge the stereotype of youth and beauty, but made other women in other places feel good enough as they are.

Most importantly, I invested in myself. I began taking acting class again with an amazing teacher. For years after college, it was my fear to go back as I was always the student that either hit it out of the park or missed. And I have had too many teachers afraid of my creativity and original thinking that many sadly did not embrace my gifts and imagination. Rather, I had several try to stifle it. Sure there were those who encouraged but when society forces you to be one dimensional it's hard to embrace someone who has many dimensions to them.

However, I found this experience to be wonderful. My teacher creates his own work and my classmates are amazing beings full of inspiration. Most importantly, I think I have also grown up and don't take feedback so personally. I also know that as I invest in myself, my accomplishments have not disappeared. I also do not view myself as a pathetic master of the universe, a way I saw myself at 19.

I also was in The Onion Workshop which changed my attitudes not only towards comedy writing, but a certain comedy school. I stopped viewing these students and teachers as part of the problem but people who loved comedy like I did. These were comrades, not people with conflicting interest. In the end, we are all trying to get to the same place........success with our writing packets.

And then there was the leadership position I look in the haunted house as "tent mom." While I was not head puppeteer per se, it became obvious as I was the most skilled as I have operated many different kinds of puppets. This was a pleasure as I mastered the full body puppet Priscilla and kept a tent full of less experienced, enthusiastic and sometimes overwhelmed performers from losing their minds. I was captain and they were my Star Fleet. I know, self-aggrandizing. However, my growth and all the road blocks I encountered made me worthy to rise to this occasion. If this is what adulthood can look like I was all for it. Did I mention our show made The New York Times?

I also applied and decided to go to graduate school. I secured the funding on my own. Antioch's Low Residency MFA program has proven to be wonderful for me. I love my teachers and I love my classmates. Most of all I love the investment in myself. I also love that this is a terminal degree and I can teach at the college level someday. But most of all, I love the fact that my teachers create their own work and carry the message of social justice, and are also not threatened by my need to have a unique, original voice. The next two years are going to be amazing. I know the program has only started but I was so beside myself when this first residency ended.

There are those who support me, and there are those that don't. In the end the only thing that matters is I have myself in my corner and I don't give the devil an audience. The devil is the voice of my doubters, doubters who need to be muffled.

I look forward to a lifetime as a student of the world. On the outside, I might be a pinup who refers to herself as a puppet mother. However, consider me a harbinger of change. I have no husband, but rather am married to the revolution. My puppets are my children as are the people I lead to freedom. With all your challenges, and I used that word quite a bit, you made me grow into the skin I was always meant to have. You are making me into the woman you always wanted me to be.

In 2017, I became APRIL.

So 2018, I am here for you. Bring it on, Sugar Pie!

xoxoxo
April
Support My Journey

New and Exciting

I know I haven't blogged in a while. It has been a mix of a lot of things. One is March saw a lot of death. I lost 2 people I knew to cancer in a week. One was a Las Vegas Director friend who helped me shoot a pilot. The other was a comedy club manager who gave me faith and food when I had none.

Then I had the stomach flu and work was insane. I didnt have a morning to sleep in let alone a moment to myself. Not to mention winter was like the party guest who wouldn't leave. You know, the annoying idiot who's boyfriend never lets her talk and now we know why? Oh and she kept double dipping which was so gross.

And then there was the rain. Yes, the rain was the downer party guest who probably worked in publishing that went to a preppy backup school that had a chip on her shoulder that she didn't get into Brown or her parents couldnt afford NYU. She not only just stayed with winter, but just had something negative to say the entire time.

YUCK!

Then of course I have been writing two books. More on that later. When you are writing a book, that mission is your book. It's like you are Rambo back from Vietnam dodging the cops. Except I do not have his prowess let alone emotional problems. Rambo is hot. He would be a good looking mistake.

God I have had too many of those in my life and times. But two books, does that make me more macho than Chuck Norris?

Anyway, I have an awesome show at the Duplex on June 21. It's my show The Lady and President Tramp. We have Donald J. Tramp. We have Kellyanne Oneway, Mexican President Don Juan De Casanova De Gorgita, Mike Dispence, supporters, protesters, and even a weirdo named Vlad that calls.

I have been working steadily on my show and am so proud of all I have done. Two my life was a lot different, and not in a way that was productive. If you want to know what I have been through, read my previous blogs. Either way, I am grateful for all I have today.

(God/Goddess is good, all the time)

The tickets are available here https://www.purplepass.com/index.php#157539/The_Duplex-The_Lady_and_President_Tramp_-__April_Brucker-The_Duplex_Cabaret_Theatre-June-21-2017.html

And if you plan on coming to surprise me, the address is 61 Christopher Street. Stalkers welcome.

Either way, I am closing this post with my photo of the week. Someone said I looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast before their big outing. Now if I am the beauty, who will be my beast. Tear me up, Buttercup. MWAH!

And before I forget, moment of silence for those lost in the Pulse Nightclub Shooting. One year has passed and it is still difficult. Saw the memorial last year at Pride and I thought I was going to vomit. 

Discipline

Yesterday was one of those days. I had a terrible case of the runs-more than you wanted to know-and had a tech run through at Don't Tell Mama for my show. My pianist came and was feeling the burn from the West Coast as he just got off the road. We both had a long week. Me with my telegram deliveries and him with his gigging. Coffee wasn't enough and neither was vitamin water.

The rehearsal went okay but we clearly needed another before the show. As we are packing up I am talking to a friend who's in the space after me. I was running my mouth, thinking I could put my feet up for a tad before my next destination.

Then on the subway I discover I forgot the ipad at the theatre. FUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!

I even screamed it on the train. FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!

It's the 7 so a lot of the train doesn't speak English, but they understood that word. I go home, drop my shit in more ways then one, and run to to the venue. They have my ipad. THANK GOD!!!! The bartender had a good sense of humor, but they all thought I was crazy. I earned it.

I met a buddy for a gnosh and then went to charge my phone in Port Authority. I dunno why I went there, but finding an outlet in NYC is like finding Waldo in a crack den where everyone is dressed like Waldo. So I find a plug and a homeless dude hits on me. Then a dude with one leg comes over and wants to use the outlet. Of course he's homeless so he spills his booze. Then he gets into a fight with an old homeless dude who then begins fighting with a tranny.

That's when I pick up and find another outlet.

At that moment I am approached by a man speaking his own language. He asks me where Chelsea is and I tell him. He then asks what's in my box. When I don't answer he starts screaming at me. I run. He follows. I run. I lose him. What the fuck just happened?!

I get to a diner and kill some time. I drink some coffee. I talk to the mentor. I watch the clock as I kvetch. He laughs at me. The weather is warm where he is. He's paid his dues. He thinks my life is funny. Is it? I dunno.

Finally I get to the last stop on the train. IT's New York Comedy Club. It's the Paid or Pain Show. I know I am gonna get disciplined by the dom. It's fine. Yes, they have a dom. Jay Nog has worked hard and made quite a show and now it's on Sirius. I'm gonna be on the radio. Life is good.

I am first up. I am gonna get pain. I know it. I even tell the audience as much. They laugh. I pull out Donald J. Tramp. I'm doing fine but it's a puppet. I am gonnna get pain. Jordan Carlos does a great Trump impression where he tells me I'm great but the puppet is a liar. The other judge says I'm funny but a puppet act is difficult to kill with consistently. He's right.

And I do get pain.

The violet wand. It's fine. It's the perfect end to this trippy day.

But a producer offers me more spots. I make new friends. I'm gonna be on the radio in 2 weeks. And I shill out a few bucks for the cab ride home.

Come requires dedication. It requires discipline. It requires a violent wand. It requires a brave heart. It requires just relaxing and enjoying the ride. Sometimes we all need a little whipped into shape

Come see my show
The Lady and President Tramp
February 20, 2017 7pm
Dont Tell Mama
343 W 46 street

Block Me

The other day someone reported one of Donald J. Tramp's posts to facebook. It was stupid. It was ugly. It was a low blow. I have a feeling it was either an ex boyfriend or someone who wanted to thwart my progress. Or maybe it was a Trumpkin who was offended I was making fun of our president. Maybe it was a liberal who didn't vote for either candidate that just wants to be offended by everything.

Either way, the whole thing was stupid. It pissed me off. I had to fight not to break every blessed thing in the room I was in. Then I was like fuck it. I need a day or two or five off of social media. Away from the right who can't have a conversation but instead want to shove faith down my throat. Away from the left who wants to censor everyone and talk about how there is no God. Away from the Nazis on both sides.

It has become a dangerous world.

It has become a world where when you make a joke, someone gets offended. Someone liberal gets butthurt. Some Trumpkin gets angry and boycotts and whines on twitter. You both need to put on some big boy/girl pants and grow up. You are both worthless. You are both what is wrong with America. If something offends you, change the channel. Don't go to the page. But by God don't censor the person.

If you disagree with someone have a conversation. You might learn something. A lot of gun owners and members of the NRA are not evil people. My sister is a champion markswoman who cares about gun safety. As an ER doctor she treats gun injuries and has given a presentation on gun safety and prevention several times. Others, like my cousin who is a teacher in Alaska, carry a gun to school because he might meet a giant Polar Bear or Grizzly Bear on the road. He has several times. Hey, it's a safety thing. Others are ranchers who live miles away from the actual cops. Many are not evil racist people.

Does abortion offend you? Have a conversation. Many times pro-lifers yell and scream about dead babies. Let me tell you not everyone who has an abortion is evil. Some are cases of rape and incest. Other times the woman is on her own and doesnt have familial support. If the guy can walk away why can't she? Additionally sometimes a woman is pushed into a pregnancy by a partner against her will. Her body, her choice.

Of course they always shut the discussion down by screaming about the genocide and the babies murdered as a result of abortion. How about this. We have the babies, drop them at your door, and tell you to raise them. They kids are gonna be on welfare as are their mamas, and you're gonna be paying for them anyway. Why not? When I have said this a few idiot pro-lifers have sputtered.

However, I know some pro-lifers who will have the convo. There are many who support adoption as do I. I have 6 adopted cousins. I say we need to make it easier for people to adopt. We need more options for single mothers who keep the kids to finish high school. When Pro-Lifers are open to this convo and want to create options, I am all there.

But we have to talk to each other. LISTEN! We have lost the ability to have a discussion. IT was asinine that Mitch McConnell shut Liz Warren down. Let Liz speak. Yes, disagree with her. Don't evoke an archaic statue to shut her down when you don't do this with your male colleagues. Let her speak. Even some pro-Trump freedom of speech peeps agree with me here.

Bottom line, the First Amendment means you have the right to worship and the right to your opinions and to voice these opinions. Someone else has the right to tell you that worshiping a man who rose from the dead is stupid, but they have no right to shut you down. I might tell you Trump is a maniac xenophobe, but I have no right to intimidate you into voting the way I want you to. Just as someone feels divinely inspired to speak out, someone else feels divinely inspired to oppose. That's how freedom of speech works.

So to those of you that do the little bitch thing of reporting someone, you're making me famousssss

Come see The Lady and President Tramp

February 20, 2017 7PM

Dont Tell Mama

343 W. 46 Street

An Open Letter to the Muslim Doctors Who Helped Me

To the Muslim Doctors That Helped Me:

I would like to open this letter with my gratitude. Not only for your service and commitment to science, helping others, and the advancement of technology, but for treating me with compassion during one of the worst personal/medical times in my life.

A year ago, I was in a bad living situation. I was living with bed bugs and mold. Instead of taking care of it, my landlord thought he would run me out. That way he could jack the rent up in my apartment. One which I had lived in without incident for 10 years. When I called The City on him, he proceeded to torment me through the legal system. I was in court once a week with this man. He proceeded to follow me around the neighborhood, until one day he told me that he wouldn't stop until he saw me homeless. While in court, he attempted to burn my apartment down after going through my things. He knew where I was going to be. This was the perfect opportunity for his wish to come true.

Due to the stress I had to endure, my health began to fail. My hair was falling out, and I was so stressed I could not digest my food properly. I could not sleep, and when I did I feared bugs were crawling all over me. Often I was so weak I couldn't make it up the stairs, and routinely fainted/passed out. Not to mention I had problems breathing. Do to the stress and poor diet as well as lack of self-care, a test for cancer came back for a certain virus that causes a certain type of cancer. Often, abnormal tests are triggered by stress and a broken down immune system as was the case in my particular situation.

During my first visit to the doctor, I was scared. You often are when you fear they will find something deathly wrong with you. I told the nurse this. Then you walked in. Yes, my Muslim doctor. You heard I was afraid of doctors, and to put me at ease walked in without your robe. In order to get me to relax, and made me laugh. Then you asked what brought me to you. I told the truth. You listened with compassion, and no judgement. By the way you spoke to me, I could tell you cared. At that point in my life, no one else did. You discussed doing some tests to find out why I was so tired, and you told me regardless of what you found, we were going to design a treatment plan so that I could be healthy again.

My second visit contained my test results. This time I had a second doctor. Another Muslim doctor. This one female. It was because my first was back home to visit his family in his home nation. This young woman was fresh out of medical school, and discussed a treatment plan. She told me I was going to be alright, and suggested vitamin supplements that could help me. She also suggested a higher iron diet, and perhaps moving out of my unhealthy situation. While I didn't walk out of there cured, I had a plan. I was going to be okay.

A year later I am healthy. I am out of my horrific living situation. My hair has grown back. As well, I no longer faint and am running anywhere from 2-5 miles a day, depending. I am also weight training. My diet contains more iron, fruits, and vegetables.

I also want to express gratitude for the fact you saw me as a patient, and did not judge me by the color of my skin. You cared about my well-being as a doctor should. As a matter of fact, I kept my same insurance so I could keep you as my doctors. That being said, I apologize for the closed minded bigotry of the leader our country has picked, and I apologize for the Islamophobia that you have experienced at the hands of others.

I also know that Isis does not speak for all practitioners of your faith, just as Army of God and the KKK do not speak for all Christians, my faith. If you are what we are letting in when Muslims come, I say let more in. You are welcome in the America I know and that I grew up to understand. Thank you for being so willing to contribute, even though so many of us are not so kind back.

This summer in Cleveland I was able to march against Trump when he got his nomination. There were shirts that said, "Muslim Doctors Save Lives." I know this to be true.

Thank you for saving mine.

April

The Lady and President Tramp
Monday February 20, 2017 7PM
Dont Tell Mama
343 W. 46 Street

Death Threats and Other Things

The Lady and President Tramp had it's New York debut at Don't Tell Mama this past Sunday. LEading up to the show, there had been some fireworks on twitter. A man claiming to be a delegate from Michigan threatened me, and then emailed the venue saying that if they didn't pull my show he would go to the press. This individual who called himself Jack Holmes said he would take me and my message down.

He didn't. The venue didn't pull the show.

However, Don't Tell Mama received several aggressive messages, some death threats, on their facebook page. I didn't know about this until I got to the theatre. To say things were crazy is a complete understatement.

The night of the show was actually successful. At first it didn't look like it was going to be because my tech was a mini disaster. However the show itself was marvelous. The audience LOVED IT! We are even talking about doing a run. Life is good. As a bonus I didn't get shot.

The venue administration was amazing in standing behind me this entire time. When others there were panicked, the owner said the show must go on. It's free expression. It's what America is about.

Now that being said, today I feel a little unimportant. No one is threatening me. I always knew I would be close to a bullet in some way for my outspokenness. This is not the first time. However, it is the first time I could picture the bullet. That in itself was a little scary.

I have a show tonight where I am Lady Gaga. I'm not being political. My mom is relieved.

Someone sent me a message that they saw my show and it wasnt good. This person was a pro-Trumper. Who knows if it's true. People are so tough behind the internet. Either way, it has been an entertaining past few weeks.

Donald J. Tramp and Hillary Clifton debate

18 Cents......

Yes, that is a real Christmas song. My dad and his family used to sing it when I was a kid. Apparently unknown artists before the days of the Countdown Singers put out little records. 18 Cents is the most depressing Christmas song ever. It's about this poor kid who has no money except for 18 cents and how he divvies it up. But damnit, 18 Cents is our depressing Christmas song.

I am glad 2016 is almost over. I am so tired I feel as if I will die some days. There are moments where I want someone to throw a blanket all over me. Yesterday I was so exhausted that I nearly fell asleep in the train station. That would have been a bad idea, but eh.

Lately, I have been running around so much and there has been so much to do. I have been dealing with folks overseas. Then I have been getting ready to showcase my show The Lady and President Tramp at APAP. I have been interviewing piano players who work everywhere and are more tired than I am. In between I have been getting onstage and delivering telegrams. Today I interviewed a young woman still covered in my Lady Gaga sparkles. I know, STABLE.

I asked her about her life as if I had the right to judge anyone covered in my sparkles. She lived with her boyfriend. I asked how their relationship was because I had a piano teacher who broke up and wouldnt get out of bed. This is why I don't know how to play piano. She said things were fine. I said I had to ask. Then I remembered I was covered in sparkles. I was in no place to judge anyone anywhere.

Two weeks ago, I did a podcast with an Irishman who was recording me from a bathroom in Poland. It's not what you think, often the bathroom is the quietest place in the house. I have a soft spot for the Irish because my dad's family is Irish. Heck, my pop's himself is the stereotypical Irishman in a lot of ways. His dad even more so.

Either way, I am ready for 2016 to be over. I am ready to hear my mother's lecture about how I need more protein in my diet. I am ready for my father to shame me about my life choices as we watch Big Battles and I admire his train platform. I am ready for my male younger cousins to tell me about how they realized recently that women were jealous. (Honey, we all jealous). I am ready for one of my female cousins to have a meltdown over a guy and spill the truth via eggnog. And I am ready to tell her at least he went away on his own, you didn't have to get the cops involved.

I am ready for my cousin to get out his trump and to start playing 18 Cents

Here is the link to the podcast I did with the Irishman from his bathroom in Poland. Enjoy. http://thecomedycast.com/podcast/the-comedy-cast-interview-with-american-comedian-ventriloquist-and-writer-april-brucker/