I don’t know why I’m feeling like this because you’re dead and you’ve been dead, but I’m still here on the planet and its sucks because something is wrong with me because I don’t want a boyfriend I question whether my sexuality is in flux and although women are far superior beings the bad news is I’m straight but I don’t like anyone even a little prob cuz everybody over forty is a catastrophe they say things like “cool beans” which was never hip and sometimes they have small beings that fell out of some other woman’s vatootle that hover around them who according to their Tinder profile are “their life” well your “life” smells like he soiled his trousers I can’t believe everything I’m writing to you so that you will read it from wherever you are (how strange) even though you were from the Bronx I’m very confident you went straight to heaven we met at Nicks in Boston my home club I just thought you were so good on stage and you were covering for a comic who incidentally was in my wedding (WHAT) ya it’s weird and then you didn’t say you didn’t drink but after your set that’s what we all do in Boston, I did ask you if you’d go out with the gang and you said something that resembled a “naw” and your girlfriend walked up but it was really weird because we connected later anyway through Myspace (ridickballs) Myspace? feels like centuries ago but you said hey next time you’re in New York, hit me up and I think you texted something about going to the Cellar I got really excited because my comedy career was in a holding pattern at best and New York was on my radar (to keep with the aviator themed analogy) I was just waiting to get enough money to move we hung out it was great I totes didn’t like you like you, I just thought it was cool to have a new comedy friend one time we went to the Strip. After my divorce moving back to Boston was weird because the scene was younger douche-bro’s who started after me and not the guys that I knew from waitressing & from being around the clubs in the 90’s a New York friend was more than welcomed and I swear I didn’t like you beyond friends but you asked about my life and if I had kids and about my parents and what was I doing with comedy and then we went to get Thai food then we went to HA where we waited around forever and then I bombed in front of 4 people – I ate it so HARD we eventually went to the Cellar and I thought your shoes were weird. I didn’t really see anybody else because you were all I could see and you had the symbols for Om Mani Padme Hum tattooed on your bicep J.C. on the your forearm and we talked about one man shows and how all comics need to explore other avenues of expression and I always thought I would write one and you did a Moth and I wanted to be with you and I couldn’t eat and I told you about my noir fascination. You hugged Geraldo who was surprisingly humble and such a cool guy and you had to drive me back to Valley Cottage because my 82 year old aunt was worried and had made me promise I’d get back no later than midnight and although you both were puzzled at my indulging her request, the three of us went up FDR Drive and he was frantically arguing with some broad on the phone who kept hanging up on him which was making him furiously mad and we all couldn’t help but to laugh because it was crazy. Months would go by and we didn’t talk and more months and your career got big and you were travelling and I don’t recall when I took a shine to you because we lived in different states, maybe it’s cuz you were funny, then you let me crash at your place when you were away so I could look for a job and I brought your mother raw honey that I got from Amish people I’m not sure she liked it because it was the kind that’s hard in consistency because there are no chemicals so you have to put the jar in boiling water and she was nice and your dog barked a lot but then he warmed up to me and it’s weird that night you called from a tv contest show you were on and said you were losing to a dishwasher which despite it being a slam against his heritage was very funny only because you were incensed that you didn’t win. At your bedside there was a book about Buddhism with a prologue about Asoka Maura who I had written a paper about in an ethics class in college and I knew it was a sign I asked you how you could even do a television show and you said you just have to relax more time passed and we didn’t talk and I grew bitter and eventually gave up on you. I was really hurt and disappointed because I guess its because you made my heart feel so good and I couldn’t even remember having something to look forward to you finally did call but I was away then you were going to Boston and expected me to drop everything which I did you kissed me finally after 2 years and it was amaze nostrils because it was soft and unexpected and you were a gentlemen because we held hands. The very last text you sent me said “I can’t wait to see you.” How cruel the world is that it took you so young. I got that text a couple of days before you passed. I cried for six months which I know you know because the psychic told me it’s really hard to write about you because it makes me sad I don’t cry any more but it makes all the blood go to my face and I get weird and some moisture happens around my eye area it’s like a silent intense cry, but I pretty much am dead unless I’m performing or writing I guess I could say thank you which is weird but for the writing part? I was so mad at you for dying but it’s not like you had anything to do with leaving your body and I know you didn’t end like completely but I still have good days and some bad ones I don’t cope well with feelings any more so for now and to end this rant all I got is om mani padme hum.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Here’s what being in denial that you are in your forties is about. I have an extreme aversion to the opposite sex and I have two unsuccessful half careers. (I’m being dramatic) (and then there’s office gigs - Oh, the humanity!) All this while I’m spiraling towards a narrow margin where people feel compelled to comment about my reproductive functionality, “well, you still have time to have a baby,” which is downright impolite, never mind implausible.
What is also happening is that I’m beginning to loosen the grip some. Who knew? Getting older has wisdom? No kidding. Trying to manage a creative career can be maddening. I also just up and moved to New York City. I always like to make things complicated. My life consists of doing standup gigs, often travelling for them on the weekends. I will do some writing and go do a set somewhere a couple of nights during the week. At times, I also work an awful full-time job, so my schedule can be grueling. I’m also a visual artist, but lately, I almost never have time and I currently have no studio to make art (the other half career).
I said to myself “for reals I’m out” which translates roughly to “I want to quit.” Actually, I had arrived at this conclusion as a result of wanting to rid myself of worrying about money, and to live in a nicer apartment. So I entertained the idea of letting go. It’s not performing that is difficult. The “grind” is working some job that takes up all of your energy, and then writing and performing anyway.
I emotionally gave up comedy because I wanted to see what it would feel like. I wanted to just live life for a minute and avoid furiously trying to stay relevant. What I noticed is work floods in. When you’re not frantic and trying so hard, it puts you in the space to step aside and allow the universe to do its thing. This new found detachment also allowed me to be freer on stage.
I can’t really fool myself. I’ll never give it up. But in my false quitting, I noticed that finding contentment with exactly where you are has a lot of power.
It’s not evident whether my uterus will be all for naught. I can’t seem to get the online dating thing to have significance, particularly because, gross. But, perhaps when I am in the right state of mind, I will consider a relationship. As far as my half careers go, I don’t really have an answer. Writing, performing and making art are really just about doing it. Living in New York makes me scoff at such liberties because it is so expensive. I’m telling you, I was born in the wrong era. I would have been perfectly happy being a mafia moll with a tommy gun.