#12

It was dull outside. I heard the distant sounds of morning traffic. No birds that I recall. Is it ever going to be summer? I fumble for my phone. Morning tweets of atrocities going on in the world and then...what?!...when did Sam Champion leave GMA? What the? How did I miss that? My priorities are beyond screwed.

Anyway, it looks like it might rain but I don't take an umbrella because I'm a rebel (but really it's because I just don't want to carry one more thing).

I'm relaxed today--wearing jeans and a black shirt and my Converse All-star basketball sneakers. I've said it just like that since I was 10. "I'm wearing my Converse All-star basketball sneakers" and that's that! I also say things like "Stereophonic unit" but that's another story.

I heard that Irish Mike died. We were probably around the same age. Actually, he might have been younger but years of alcohol abuse made that impossible to determine. I didn't know him well but in his more lucid moments he was a seemingly nice guy, a helpful one and genuinely liked by most who came in contact with him. He just couldn't get it (sober) and maybe he never wanted to get it having lost his wife and children in a bad accident years ago. It was more than sad but I can't tell you in all honesty that I didn't expect it and it is a sad thing to expect.

The thing is--no matter how bad it gets, I just don't want to let the bad win. There are too many things in life that make it worth living.

Last night, as I walked home at dusk through Central Park, I was surprised that there were not more people about to witness its splendor and at the same time I felt it was a treat for me...having the park almost all to myself. Still, serene and magical. I had no home. I had no age. I just was.

Did I lose you? Fine. Back to comedy.

What I'm trying to say is that many times we think we know what's ahead but we don't. Plans are ideas we try to set in motion and the "best laid plans of mice and men" (there I go again).

Man, all I'm saying is that I want to be around to see it all...all the possibilities. To take part in the conversation and mostly to laugh...

even and if mostly at myself.

#11

Panic! I wake as if someone or something shocked the bejesus out of me! I'm disoriented. Where do I need to be? What time is it? What day is it? "Hold on!" "Pull yourself together" are the things I tell myself. It's 9:30 am. and I never really have to be anywhere at 9:30am. My breath slows and softens and I look at my phone (because I no longer have a clock or a watch) and note that it's Friday. 

Friday, is going to be busy and I better get up NOW. I want to tackle the day! I don't want to wallow in whatever this headspace is.

I need to be at the club for a cornucopia of reasons. So, I shower and pull together an outfit and get a move on. As I walk down the five flights, I'm met by my super. He is a slight man in his 60s who I've known for over 15 years and who I recently learned had suffered a mini stroke only a few days earlier. He's a good guy. Not only handy but has been an ear for my shenanigans over the years. He also knows this city's politics which has made for some colorful conversations between us. I'm glad to see that he's up and about. We chat briefly but I have to hustle to get to the club.

I'm expecting some guys to come and pick up items that we've stored for an inordinate amount of time and that we no longer use, need or want. Additionally, we have festival shows going on tonight so the phones are ringing consistently and the place is abuzz.

Once in the office, I brace myself. I check emails, have a few conversations with my boss and assimilate all the goings-on. Throughout the day, there are mini interruptions ranging from tourists, passers by that have inquiries, aspiring comics wanting to know how to get stage time and performers coming in for rehearsals of one kind or another.

At some point I will take 10 minutes to reconnect with my breathing, to assess my body, to just calm down. To meditate. Whatever is going on, I want to maintain focus. I want to get things done efficiently and I don't want NO FREAKIN' PROBLEMS!

Happy customers and smooth running shows are the aim.

However, there is another side of me that runs concurrently with the person that shows up for work 6 days a week.

This person wants to lose control of everything. She wants to abandon trying to manage every detail of her life---every person, every outcome.

She spontaneously flies to Paris, speaks french with ease and is a painter and poet (both skills come effortlessly for her) and she is impossibly thin and, of course, beloved and admired.

But I'm sitting in Agata & Valentina on East 79th Street as I write this eating a mix of pancakes, bacon & eggs from the breakfast buffet so I don't think She is going to materialize today.

As it turns out, it rains (no control over that) pretty heavily on Friday night but that doesn't stop a sold-out show from happening. We're busy and all the shows turn out solid. So, it's a successful night overall with "manageable" issues in between.

Having worked and 11 hour day,  I decide to take a walk. It's 63° and it's the perfect night for a stroll which I love to do to unwind after the shows.

I pass Columbus Circle and make my way to Lincoln Center where I'm drawn to 3 bronze "Spirit Totem" sculptures that were created by jazz musician Herb Alpert, called "Gratitude", "Grace" and "Freedom". Precisely the mood I'm in.

I place my hand on one of the sculptures which is still wet from the rain. I'm dwarfed by it. Life.

I am one small creature but I am grateful, alive and free in this moment.

Mercí. 

I even speak french.

#10

I'm sitting in  a little side street park--breeze blowing with a warm hint of the summer to come. Just finished my volunteer shift at the  yoga studio. It is nearly noon. My day began at 8:20. For the two hours I spend at the yoga studio (each hour translates to a free class) I think of nothing but towels --loading them in and out of washers and dryers. I get to wear blue rubber gloves because the towels are saturated with the sweat of the yoga practitioners.  I put the gloves on with the speed in which I believe surgeons do before they operate. I do this because it's necessary and in case I get a movie role where I get to play a surgeon. The "laundry shift" as it is called, is a little monotonous but it keeps my mind off anything negative. Being around the energy and the people at the studio is uplifting and I get to observe the classes (which is good) and taking my free class later makes me very very happy!

Outside on the bench now, I realize days have gone by since I wrote anything. The pace of life has made it difficult but that's no excuse. Some mornings, I simply don't want to. Other times, I can't collect my thoughts long enough to get to writing them down. I can't assess them and wonder if my they're even worth assessing-- they come in and go out like waves--flooding my mind and then disappearing.

Whatever. I watch an old man walk away and the breeze picks up some.

I went to the theater last night as I mentioned I would in a prior blog. I saw Of Mice And Men on Broadway with James Franco and Etc Cast.  I say Etc. Cast because I highly suspect the play would not get the recognition that it's getting if he were not in it. Which isn't to say that the other actors including the Tony nominated Chris O'Dowd, lovely Leighton Meester and ensemble aren't extremely talented--it's just obvious what is driving people to this play (including myself). I'm no hypocrite. I've seen the play 1 million times (okay, three) and watched countless (okay, six) actors in scene study classes perform it, why else would I go?

I had arrived at the theatre having spent the day earlier with my boss and my comic sisters of The Red Light podcast. Interested parties may listen to the podcast at: theredlight.podomatic.com. It's sassy, explicit, scattered and informative. That's as much of a description as I'm going to give you. We definitely try to have fun.

So, I get to my balcony seat. I'm wearing a black dress and pearls but I am cloaked (I get dramatic when I'm in the theater) in my jean duster--which I particularly like and which I thought would lend to the authenticity, tone & mood of the play--because in my mind I'm in it. What can I say? I'm all about immersing. I like to immerse.

Seated behind me is a middle school class from Seattle. There are probably 35 to 50 kids--most of them teenage girls and all of them proclaiming that they will have James Franco's baby.  I want to tell them that they don't stand a chance because I will pulverize them (and he and I will adopt) but mostly I just want them to shut up.

The play is as compelling as I remember it to be and all of the actors do their jobs. Because I'm aware that this is live theater, I know that some nights may be better than others and I had a slight suspicion that this night was not one of the more engaged nights (which isn't to say it wasn't a good night it just felt slightly off for some reason).

As I exited, throngs of young girls gathered to take selfie's and Instagram photos with James Franco. I disappeared into the streets where I was promptly met by promoters trying to sell me comedy club tickets!  

Geesh, guys! Don't you know who I am? I must be having an off night. ;)

#9

I'm laying in bed with no rush to get out of it. Being busy and being productive are two different things and there are times I feel like I take 2 steps forward and 3 back with a lot of side-stepping in between. 

Although its 10am, my bedroom Is still dark and right now the only light there is, comes through from a gated window. I look up at Botticelli's Venus; a poster in an elaborate frame that I purchased in Titusville Florida many years back. It's an image that has been over-saturated in its uses through the years and what I once loved, I've  now outgrown. So, Venus languishes lonely on cracked wall in my bedroom. A metaphor? Perhaps. I don't know. 

My thoughts turn to James Franco. I mean, why wouldn't they?

I'll just say this, there was an occurrence, a  "blip" of sorts as to why this happened but I'm not going to explain it because I'm not even sure I  believe it myself.
Nevertheless, James Franco has been in my consciousness ever since.

As you may know, I am a comic and an actress that also manages several comedy clubs. Because of my background, I am naturally drawn to creative types--actors, other comics, writers, artists, musicians, poets, dancers etc. and probably more so now than ever because of just how terrifying the state of the world seems to be.

For me, anything that can take my mind off the harsh realities of what we're doing to this planet, to each other, to ourselves (even temporarily) can be a moment of meditation. I've had a lot on my mind lately regarding my father's health, finances, etc. So, a James Franco detour came at a good time. After all, he is talented, creative and good-looking. I could get lost in that for a minute.

But that minute turned into a full week of consumption of all things James Franco. What's odd is that I never thought about this person prior to the aforementioned "blip" and now I couldn't stop. 

With the help of the internet and Instagram, I was overwhelmed with the popularity of James Franco. I discovered his achievements and the diversity of those achievements and I was truly struck by them.

Several months ago, I listened to Nick Cave for the first time and I've become hooked on his music ever since.  I've listened to everything of his I could get access to including interviews. I went to a screening of a documentary about him and have plans to see him in July with The Bad Seeds in Prospect Park. I started this blog as a practice because I found Cave's own inexhaustible drive to write so inspiring.

This James Franco "blip" triggered a similar reaction--a further need to delve into lyrics, words, thoughts, feelings, art. It gave me even more incentive to explore and push the boundaries and limitations of who I am, who I think I am and what I do.. I believe that is the mission of all true artists (and if we can make you laugh that's an added bonus).

But I haven't gotten out of bed yet.

When I finally do rouse myself from the James Franco coma I put myself in, I consider the day ahead. 

I notice that the pain in my knee (from over locking it in bikram yoga class) has diminished. I assess myself and soon realize that it's my day off and I have to get ready for a lunch date I've arranged with someone from an internet dating site. I have a real personal life I'm trying to attend to. A need to find a companion. I leave to meet my date. He arrives wearing a white T-shirt, gym pants and sneakers and he is immediately disgruntled because I've accidentally sat down a restaurant that we agreed to meet at but I wasn't supposed go into. He deems that the weather is nice enough, so he relents and says we can stay seated outside. After some awkward exchanges and efforts (on his part) to control, he tells me he's Italian from the waste down. It's a sales pitch. I see where this is leading and ask for my share of the check and leave.

Turns out, this date was more of a lesson in what I don't want versus what I do. Gone are the days where I try to tough things out. He has one thing on his mind and it's not about getting to know me because he thinks he already does.

(I want you to feed my soul. Can you do that?)

So, I stroll and turn my head to the sun and decide that I could use an ice coffee. I wasn't awake for that date but I was definitely awake enough to know there wouldn't be another one.

I end up at Le Pain Quotidien. Classical music is playing. In front of me is a New York Times with the Weekend Arts section splayed out. On the main page is an article about the upcoming  Spider-Man movie. Here we go. James Franco was in a Spider-Man movie. Coincidence? I start to drift.

Whatever the reason or whether the "blip" led me, I'm going to see James Franco in Of Mice And Men on Broadway. Grateful that I can lose myself in the theatre. 

I'll get the chance to suspend my disbelief and maybe even my belief a little longer. ;)