Discomfort

This past week I have been trying to go up as much as I can to prepare. I have returned to some of the haunts of my youth in the Village, in the days before I knew what it was to have fans let alone be on national television. In the days where my ideas were on loose scraps of paper before I wrote an actual book. While I only have started to make some real progress I am a long way from where I once was. The return has been good and once again they are becoming my old homes. Same with my former home club and other places. However I know the game there. I know the crowd. I know the comics. So I debated journeying out of my comfort zone.

I have long since heard about The Creek and The Cave. There was a part of me that was curious about the place. Certain comedian friends of mine raved about it. Others insisted it was cliquish. I never had been, but already I was judging. I didn't have a weird beard or weird glasses. Although I have a doll, I am hardly alt. I don't strive to be ironic. So basically I wrote the place off. Contempt prior to investigation as they say.

Finally today I told myself I had to go. I just needed to do something different. Because the same places had become my practicing grounds I was getting bored of them, getting bored of my act, and the chip on my shoulder that I have been trying to get rid of was reemerging. After showering and putting on fresh clothes, a spiritual shift in case you have never tried it, I decided to pose the question on facebook. Everyone said shake it up. So on the 7 train I went. I got there early of course and ordered some chili. As I downed my tasty dinner I saw a couple wander in. They were theatre people talking theatre talk and using the SAT words my mother claims I threw out with the bath water as a basement comic. I wasn't sure how I felt. I am not that kind of "smart person." Yes, I write books. But I am not a shit head who corrects people's grammar. I knew this could go either way.

The comedians rolled in and I chatted it up with two newbies. They were new to the game and nervous about the whole standup world. I told them talent doesnt depend on how long someone has been doing it, and that someone could be good or bad at any level. Everyone though seemed really stoked about comedy which was a good thing. I saw some people I hadnt seen in ages which was sweet. Suddenly, as the chili settled in my stomach I had a feeling I made the right decision by venturing out of my comfort zone.

The mic began with the host, a girl named Peggy, doing a few minutes. She was very sweet, warm, and funny. Immediately, she made everyone feel welcome and creative a supportive atmosphere in the room where everyone was safe to be themselves. One by one the comedians took the mic. Each had varying levels of experience, talent, and preparedness of course, but each was passionate about comedy. Each was hunting in their own way for the perfect punchline. Each felt the love and support from their fellow comedians. Making a comedian laugh is like making a mime talk, it's hard work. However, these people did laugh and gave good feedback. I felt a love, comfort, and gentleness here that is a foreign concept in most city rooms. Here I felt a lightness, a passion not only for performing but an art of comedy itself. I felt like I could crash and burn without getting bruised if things didn't go well.

I also garnered a whole new respect for alt comedy. Sure, some of it is hard to take. However, there are also some talented alt people who are good writers and good performers. All comedy does not have to be dick jokes. As I have been crafting this clean set I have gotten a whole new respect for people who are smart and clever. Yes, it might not work in some of the basements but not every show has to be in the basement. When I speak to kids about writing I tell them everyone has their own voice and there is room for everyone's voice. Same goes for comedy. Usually I am guilty of thinking of my own set as well. However, I was busy watching my fellows do their thing which was very exciting. It felt like I was learning and growing in a way I hadn't in some time.

I was amazed by what a family this group was. One of the cohosts had a birthday and the other cohost got her a cupcake and we sang. This cohost also somehow had gotten two ventriloquist figures for her birthday. And when I came up with a real ventriloquist act she thought it was amazing. When my turn came, I did something that has been hard for me for sometime in comedy. I HAD FUN.

 As time goes on, all comedians, myself included, take themselves oh so seriously. We start to see money from comedy and it becomes serious business-ironic when you think of it. And then we develop chips on our shoulders and attitudes about the politics. Soon it becomes more about who we think we are and less about the art. Suddenly, we start writing less and get sick of our acts. We never get sick of hearing ourselves talk about ourselves or others talk about how great we are. We are sick creatures like that.

I had a lot of fun though. The room was also very kind to me. Some of it was that they like comedy. Some of it was that I have been working hard on the set I am preparing. Some of it is that they were supportive. However, a portion was due to the fact I let go and felt comfortable doing so. Afterwards people told me I did well and asked if I would be back. The answer is yes I will. My experience at The Creek and the Cave was a good one. It left me more stoked about performing and more excited about writing than I have been in YEARS. Comedy has a good home and every comedian, old and new, has a safe place to perform, experiment, and grow in whatever way they need to.

This winter I wrote a blog about stepping up my standup and not being sure how I could do that. The answer is to be around people passionate about comedy, writing, and go to out of your comfort zone. And maybe this place has it's little circles but so does every place. Whenever I focus on being funny and don't focus on the politics, I don't feel that sting. I am there to perform, not pass notes. When I do that I get along with every comedian and do decently with every audience, no matter where I am.

So yes, I will be going back to the Creek and the Cave, I will be eating more of that delicious chili. I will be chasing the perfect punchline. I will be wandering out of my comfort zone. Just like the twenty year old kid who dreamed of being on national television and carried her ideas on loose pieces of paper, I won't stop until I get the perfect punchline.

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

Fear and Loathing

Comedians are like bitchy scorpions. There are only so many spots at any club, only so many people who can be on any show, etc. It's like we all can't have nice things. This is most apparent on car trips. It starts by bringing up one comic and then it is a trash fest. Some of it is out of jealousy that they got the spot we wanted. Some of it is out of fear that we might never get what we want. Some of it is out of insecurity because we must trash people we feel are lesser. Deep down, it is more fear. More fear that we will be forever trapped doing shit open mics, shit bar gigs, shit check spots, and at the end of the day we will languish in obscurity only to die unknown.

Early in my comedy career I saw people floating around who had been at it for years. One woman had been doing open mics for fifteen years and still sucked. I deeply hoped that wasn't going to be me. However, I was afraid it was going to be. I saw others seemingly never move from the bringer system, damned forever to be comedy cattle running and feeding off of dream grass only never to get the nutrients. At other venues I saw people bark for what seemed to be forever never to move up. And then I saw some people do the same terrible set for years with the same lackluster jokes. Running the open mic marathon it seemed as though the lanes were clogged like a bad LA traffic jam and I would never get the red light. As for the road, I did that as a feature. I opened up for guys who were either really funny and would never have their talent recognized, or incredible hacks that killed for audiences that didnt know better. For a while it felt like there was no way to make it.

As a comedian I never believe my fans or the audiences that love me. In the initial early stages of my career, I very well knew I wasn't very good. When I would have a bad set, it followed me for sometime in my mind. When I had a good set, I bragged about it. Some of it was that I was proud of my work. Most of it was because I thought it would never happen to begin with therefore feared it would never happen again. I was accused of having no humility. It was true. I was deeply insecure and not the biggest April fan. But humility is not thinking less of onesself but thinking of onesself less. I was thinking of April all the live long day.

Time went on and I accomplished some things. It wasn't so much talent but hard work. I will admit, there is always someone funnier, prettier, and a better writer than I could be at any given moment. However, none have pounded the pavement like I have. Even my enemies have to high five me for my work ethic. In order to accomplish that fear and loathing, I became even more bragadocious. I don't think it was an accident that I found myself more depressed than ever deep down. Yes I was releasing a book but why did I secretly feel like dog shit run over by a mac truck? Answer, I was chasing the wrong solution. I thought ranting about being a woman in comedy was the solution. If I were a man I wouldn't have to fight so hard. I had fans writing me letters. Fuck open mics. Let me tell you how successful I am. Want to read a copy of my book?........

This past winter, I found myself unsure of how to step up my comedy. How to grow. The answer was to drop the fear and loathing and to do the work. This past week I did a show where the audience was slower to warm up to a ventriloquist act. However they got into me and I ultimately ended up doing well. After I stepped offstage I didn't hear the congratulations from the audience or felt the love I received from my fellow comedians. Instead I could only focus on the fact they didn't dig me at the beginning of my set. I was talking to a fellow comedian about this and how I always focused on the weak part. The audience members who didn't like me. My comedian friend concurred that she did that too. We all did.

On my walk home I worried that I was never going to go where I wanted to go. I also worried that I was going to settle again. Then I realized no. That wasn't going to happen. The mistake I made was falling victim to the fear and loathing. My ego seduced me into taking April the Reality TV Queen and April the Author into comedy clubs. That person doesn't always belong. Instead, when I go to a club I am just another name on the lineup. My job isn't to primp my feathers and remind people of who I think I am. It's to make the audience laugh. Also, there is something to be learned from every comedian on the lineup whether they are a household name or whether they are unknown. When that is my attitude there is always something gained.

These days when I step onstage I take the twenty year old kid who was awkward and had a weird looking, antiquated puppet. She wasn't afraid to fail, and was humble enough to do the work. She took tanking hard only to keep doing more of it until she got good. The beautiful thing was she wasn't so egotistical she wouldn't take a suggestion. As a result, the Comedy God's smiled upon her again and again. She was a good kid, sometimes taking things too hard but always chasing the perfect set. She always knew she could do better and the secret was more stage time. These days I bring her to the clubs. Not April the Reality TV star or April the Author. Those two idiots wouldn't have been possible without that weird, determined, and tough kid blindly chasing a dream.

Good things have always happened when she has been around. Sure she succumbs to the fear and loathing, but only to get up and try it again.

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

Bitches Be Cray Cray

I am always astounded at how I find myself on the wrong side of some women. Usually it is the current girlfriend of an ex or the current wife of a fan or former high school classmate. I don't get it. And they are so psychotic about it too. Wowsa.

Two years ago I had just been on national television a bunch and everyone from my childhood and beyond came out of the woodwork to congratulate me. Some were classmates, some were old friends, some were original fans from back home. One was a former neighbor of mine who played football with my brother. Although he was older than I was, I always got on with the dude. Anyway, I was making videos and doing well and posted one on her dude's wall. She writes me a scathing message. I was like WTF?!?! I don't want your man. We don't even live in the same city. I don't even know you lady. Well he got smart and dumped her like the fat bag of wet laundry that she is. Oh and he got full custody of their kid. Now he raises his young son as a single dad and is doing well. We were talking about Miss X and it turns out that she is bipolar and refused to take her meds. How lovely. You did the smart thing by getting away. I should know.

After her was this baby mama of a fan of mine who wrote me a profanity laden email threatening to kill me. Then when I basically told this breeding lump with a bad tan that all she ever did was push children out of her vagina that probably is so loose that it swings like a kiddie tire swing I blocked her. Then she got her red neck friends who are probably so inbred that they are their own grandpa to write me nasty notes. After I blocked all of them she started an I Hate April Group. I was like wow, you must really have no time on your hands. God forbid you catch your husband reading Playboy or watching Baywatch. Eek! She had some redneck name too. I mean, I saw her mother's wedding pictures and they all had that white trash ink. Who knows? Maybe her man had to look elsewhere. Dreaming is free

Lest we not forget the former girlfriend of my psychotic ex fiance. He was nuts and she was even nuttier. She basically was a childhood sweetheart of his that reconnected with him in the myspace days. Our relationship ended and this trouble maker started sending me nasty messages. As if it was even her freaking business. Then when my ex was stalking me, she starts stalking me biproxy leaving nasty messages too and doing some of his dirty work. When he posted drawings of someone that looked like me being gored, the cunt (I dont use the word lightly but when the shoe fits wear it) was the first to like them and claimed she wanted more art work. She too had a hobby of making babies with numerous men. An obese semi-shut in, she coached cheerleading and liked the same music her children did such as Z100. Note, when you are in your thirties listening to that music and putting hearts next to Justin Beiber end your life now. Then when I got on TV she starts posting shit on every forum there is about how I slandered my ex, stalked her, and how I had so many mental problems she needed to block me. No you big fat cow. I had to block you and as I recall I was working with myspace at one point who limited the things you could do on your page and blocked my ex from using again because I had proven my case. WOW. Anyway, she has moved on to taking one of her baby daddy's to court. So I don't have to worry about her. Maybe she will die of a heart attack.

Of and then there is the current girlfriend of my ex. A wannabe singer, comedian, and half assed poet this big, fat, heap of a woman who gains more weight the longer she stays with my ex made my winter/spring quite interesting. A true wannabe, this wench began copying my look. When I put up a video, so did she. When I announced the release of a book, suddenly guess who starts writing poetry and she had never written poetry before. Guess who keeps a blog and guess who announces she is working on a book? I would have dismissed that nonsense except she began prank calling me. Oh and then she and her friends made a video where a girl named April got her head beaten in. After that, she insisted I was harassing her and spread her filthy lies about me like AIDS. Meanwhile bitch is copying my look and career and doesn't have the talent. Oh and she wrote a nasty poem about me and plagiarized a line from one of mine. Couldn't even diss me with her own words. From the looks of things she does drugs and drinks all day and doesn't have a job. I have done nothing to this woman except  I once dated her boyfriend and now am doing well with her life. She no longer bothers me either. Now she plays shows with her shitty rock band for three people who can tolerate the out of tune nonsense she calls a voice. But according to my friends she still alludes to me on twitter. Let her talk. She's got a good subject.

Last but not least is the wife of a former classmate of mine. The dude who I will call Johnny went to school with me from elementary school to the end of high school. We were always friends actually. Anyway when I graduated I went to NYC and lost contact. I guess in the meantime he met this beast creature that he married. Johnny always liked pretty girls, but this one could crack a mirror. Anyway she looks like a weed whacker cut her hair and is heroin chic skinny, probably from shooting up. So this spawn of Norman Bates writes me a nasty letter about how she wants me to "stay the fuck away from her husband." Wow. We don't even live in the same state and you live in a shitty white trash part of my former city. No problem. And then the freaking internet tough girl blocked me so I couldn't reply back. Nice to see my former grade school chum has found himself in a codependent power struggle with a woman who is cat shit crazy. Then I looked on her page to see who she was. This nutcase kept posting videos of her smoking, getting trashed, and then her statuses were about how she hadn't slept. I saw a photo of her and my former classmate and they both had pock marks on their faces, circles under their eyes, and looked like they were either coming or going to their neighborhood crack house. How sweet, two addicts who found love. Tell Flaco and the rest of the crew at the crack house I said hola. Hope it works out for you both. Until then, know your husband does in fact secretly dream of me. It's not because I am pretty. It's because I am not you, you crazy bitch.

Still, this makes me not want to get married ever. All marries seems like is an exercise in codependency. If anything it makes me glad I am single. The older I get the less I want to be married with kids. Some feel the need, after the shit I have seen I don't. If your marriage or relationship is that much of a power struggle get out. You don't need a man to complete you. You can make it on your own. You were a person before you started sucking his dick and you will be a person afterwards. No man is worth wearing prison orange over. Good riddance.

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

Sludge Hammer (Peter Gabriel)

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

WRONG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no business like show business

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

All Dicked Up

A few years ago I was invited to audition for Puppetry of the Penis. I thought it was a dirty puppet show. Being a comedian and puppeteer, I thought this touring show would take me out of my career rut. I hadn't booked anything in months. So I figured, why not? They sent me pictures of different shapes one could make with said organ, and I just thought they were going to be lifesized puppets.

I arrived and was greeted and given paperwork. However, I was also given an odd look by all the guys who showed up to audition. That is when the director emerged and asked what I was doing there. I told him I had come to audition, and even bought May Wilson. In those days we were waaaaaayyyyyyy dirty. Anyway, that is when someone told me that this perhaps wouldn't be the job for me. And that is when I found out that it truly was puppetry of the penis. The director and producer met as to decide what to do. So before the show began, and they invited me to stay and watch, they had me do my act for everyone. It went well. After that the pants came on and the dicks came out.

The director, an Australian, said, "Okay, time to warm up." That is when he dropped his pants, rubbed his dick and made it pliable and flexible. The rest of the men in the group did the same. Suddenly I was looking at ten random dicks. I felt like I wandered into a gay bath house and forgot my crystal meth. Despite the fact that a woman's presence could be intimidating, these guys were not floored. We all felt awkward. Penis tricks include wrist watch, propeller, pretzel, and many others. Some of the guys were less penis savvy than others. One dude was real good. Apparently he was dropping his draws and doing all his penis puppetry at the theatre arts parties at Pittsburgh's own Point Park University.

After being struck speechless I saw a fellow comedian I only met once or twice at the mics. I introduced myself and we both laughed about what happened, cause how could you not? He shook my hand and said, "From now on, you can always call me Shane."

I said, "And you can call me April. I saw your dick and therefore we will always be bonded." Max laughed. He agreed. I suppose while awkward keeps being the choice word, it was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.

"This is the most interesting lunch break I ever had." Shane said.

We laughed. How could we not? Afterwards I ran into church and said a few prayers. While I am not terribly religious I kind of had to after that.

Since that time Shane has gone on to appear with me on Wendy Williams. Today I saw his girlfriend Trixie at the health club. We were talking about Trixie's film, her new book, and I found out Max was her boyfriend. I asked her if he ever told her about our infamous audition at Puppetry of the Penis. Apparently he had. Truth is, we have both seen her boyfriend's penis. She wanted to, I did by accident. Does that make us tied for life? I dunno. It's just something else that we laugh about as New York Comedians climbing the ladder and following our dreams.

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

Starving the Devil

When I first started comedy, the only thing I had were my dreams. I was a kid from Pittsburgh. Having no idea what it really took to be a New York City comedian, I chased my dreams running on the hard pavement like Hussein Bolt. Of course I made friends with other young people chasing theirs as well. We saw each other at mics, grabbed pizza, and talked about how one day we wanted to be on TV in some capacity. We also traded punchlines and sob stories as we journeyed towards our pipe dream. We were going to be friends forever, right?

Time passes, and comedy is a vicious game. Being funny is part of the equation, along with the business and being at the right place at the right time. There were times I was acid tongued because I believed someone less talented advanced for no reason whatsoever. Of course there were other occasions where I was just bitter in general. We were all mice going for the same three pieces of cheese. There was going to be a little resentment over the fact there were so many spots, right?

Finally two and a half years ago my comedy luck began to turn. It seemed I was getting on TV quite a bit. Granted, I had a niche skill and was working for it. Not to mention that I branched out into music and was on my way to publishing a book. It looked like spending my twenties as a poor bohemian were finally starting to pay off. Sure, my high school and college mates were getting married, having kids, and starting their lives. I lived in a cramped apartment with no man and no money and a shitload of puppets and costumes most of the time. Yes, my bathroom looked like a drag queen vandalized it. However, I was also getting fans around the world. I was getting my music to chart on internet radio. My job as a talking head was fun and exposed me to even more folks in different reaches who saw me on TV. Oh and I published my book. My friends were going to be happy for me, right?

WRONG!

Suddenly it seemed I was public enemy number one. I was dissed on several blogs, and my so called friends from back in the day were the first to take shots at me. Some accused me of sleeping my way to TV time. Others said I lied and cheated my way to get things. Then there were those who called me an open mic hack. Meanwhile I was featuring and sometimes headlining. When they saw me in person they would be fake after slandering me online, which was even more painful because one idiot even left his name. Then there were some who decided to shun me all together. It was like we were friends who talked about our comedy dreams and then they couldn't say two words to me. Of course there were the brave idiots who took shots at me whether it was something backhanded or outright fought with me. Translated, I was being bullied and paying the price for seeing success. I couldn't get a break.

For a while I tried to tune it out, but it's hard to when people are nasty for no reason other than the fact they are jealous. I tried to keep in mind I earned these things: living off my laundry money and being so poor that sometimes I washed my clothes in my bathtub with my own shampoo. Soon I became nasty to counteract these people. Fighting back is the only thing a bully understands. Finally, as doors opened elsewhere my attitude became that I was too important to pay for stage time. I would show up if I liked the venue, was getting money, liked the producer, or if a fan was booking the show. Of course when any idiot started with me I would be quick to remind them that I was on TV in case they had forgotten. I thought I was showing them.

Instead I was only hurting myself. I felt alone more often than not, because I was also shutting people out who were my friends regardless of whether or not I was successful. Because I wasn't performing as much, that side of my personality was emerging in ways that weren't so good. I played a prank on a friend that I thought was funny. She thought it was mean and ended the friendship. I was increasingly glib to the point of being mean. The chip on my shoulder became uber magnified. I had been a woman slugging it out my entire youth and had faced so much sexism. When asked about all I had accomplished I came across as the biggest, most whiny victim in the world. At the times I wasn't sporting a bad attitude, I told everyone about the book I published and all I was doing with it. I claimed I was too tired to write jokes because I had written over 300 plus pages. Meanwhile it was all just a way to run from my bullies. In a way to fight the jerks I became one myself.

Finally I hit rock bottom. I found myself very depressed around the time I published my book. Some of it was the let down from a huge project. However a lot of it was because I wasn't writing new jokes. Standup had been the outlet for my rage and awkwardness back in the day. The stage had been my safe place. I no longer had that. Soon my urge to say the first thing that popped out of my head was getting me in trouble as well.I was turning into someone that no one liked, not even myself. One morning, as I felt the rage build up inside me I messaged a friend whom I will call Mr. Ed. To give you an idea, Mr. Ed is not a talking horse (irresistible hack joke), but an established comedian who has always been a friend that I admire. Positive and successful, Mr. Ed is one of those magical people who still loves to make people laugh.

Mr. Ed is somewhat psychic. We started the conversation about his headlining gig and he told me he killed in a whole new way because as he wrote in caps he HAD FUN. The universe was speaking to me. This was something I had not done in a while. Then I proceeded to pour my heart out and told him what I was going through. I asked Mr. Ed how he handled the jealousy and negativity. Mr. Ed said the only way to handle it was to starve it. I told him that would be hard for me. Like the blind karate master in the Kung Fu movies he had another move. Using the caps lock on his computer he typed it again in big letters. Now it made sense. By fighting back against these bullies I had been feeding into their negativity. They were just nasty people all around, and the only one I was hurting was myself.

I spoke to my mother about this who also had some good input. She said, "They had the same opportunities as you and didn't take them. That's not your fault."

Of course there was an old friend of mine who informed me that my attitude was becoming a problem. He also told me that the people bullying me were "shitheads" and I had to ignore them. Finally, he told me I was alienating people who could assist me. While it was harsh it was also the reality check I needed. Before my success was making people despise me. Now I was just doing it on my own.

Things steadily became easier, but I still had some hang ups. However as I strive to get this audition set ready, I am struck by how many people have come out of the wood work to help me. Some are old friends. One by the way is Mr. Ed. Some are new friends. This has enabled the walls to come down, and some of my old friends have reappeared. It turns out they still cared about me no matter where I am in my career, and are happy for me as long as I am happy. As a matter of fact I have never felt so much love coming my way in my life. It has been amazing, and it has made me love comedy in a whole new way. Since my energy is renewed, I am meeting others who perform simply because they love the art form of comedy and ultimately hunting the perfect punchline. Despite the fact comedy and I have had an abusive relationship as I run after the perfect clean set, I am more stoked than ever to get onstage.

I have also learned that while it is mean to be gossiped about, it is also mean to gossip about others. While sometimes all humans envy, it is important to be happy for others when they are successful. I am also seeing that while everyone is crazy in the beginning of the comedy race, everyone ultimately goes their own way. Some become performers, others writers, some club owners/bookers/managers, or go into TV production. However, those of us who finish end up working together which is kind of cool.

My pink cloud was a little bit obstructed yesterday. Someone who was an old friend back in the day who's second rate hack career has gone no where took a very public jab at me. This moron has no business critiquing anyone, especially since my second toe on my right foot with fungus has more talent. However it upset me because we were friends once upon a time. It was the same knife to the back piercing my heart. Yes, I did cry like a Goddamn woman. After calling a friend and sobbing wildly, I took a shower. I tried to brush it off but felt badly.

That is when I realized it was about him and not me. He had the same opportunities that I did. This man wasn't worth my tears let alone the paragraph above. That is when I threw on some clothes and got onstage.

I found out I was on Wendy Williams which was cool.

I also botched my clean set because I had wasted my energy. TV time is nice, but doing the work got me thus far. Don't stop the thing that makes it all possible, right? Plus in all that goes into show biz so much is beyond our control, so make what we can control good.

With that being said, haters make you famous. On that note, my clean set still needs a butt load of work

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