Full Circle

Since I started this blog as an outraged rant against the early release of Paris Hilton from jail, it is only fitting that I end 2007, the year I hope to forget completely, with one last unbelievable story about said celebutante.

This actually went out over the AP wire….the apocalypse will begin in a moment….

Paris offends little people in her Smurfy Quest

Her plethora of pooches doesn’t have any say about it, but Paris Hilton recently learned that humans fight back when she contemplates adding them to her menagerie. While in Russia, the globe-trotting heiress offered to “adopt” a couple of adult actors who failed to find any humor in her request, the Daily Star reports.

Paris stopped at a candy shop featuring little people playing the part of ‘80s cartoon favorites “The Smurfs,” and passersby couldn’t believe her reaction. “I don’t know if Paris had been on the mulled wine when she saw the [actors],” one eyewitness told the paper. “We heard her saying: ‘Oh my, real live Smurfs. I always wanted one when I was a kid’ before turning to her pal and asking, ‘Can I take them home?’”

Then in an attempt at humor or an amazing display of ditz, Paris added, “I didn’t realize that this is where they came from.” The source said she “started talking about adding them to her collection and bent down to talk to them in a babyish voice. I really don’t think she was trying to cause offense. But the actors were really narked off about it all.”

So “narked” off that one man went Grouchy Smurf on the celebutante. “One of them just flipped and starting shouting at Paris. He obviously spoke fluent English and told her in no uncertain terms that he was a grown man and that she was being very patronizing.”

He then bitch slapped her knees and went off in a huff.

And now the end of the world…..unless of course Jamie Lynn Spears is caring the messiah.

Happy Holiday Days!!!!
ps-I added the bitch slapping part, it's what I would have done, and dream about doing someday!!! Viva la Revolution!!

To the highest bidder!

I hate this…I hate that I have to try and sell myself to people I don’t know for money. Job hunting is the worst self analysis you can do. In 30 seconds or less you have to try and get someone who thinks they’re better than you to believe that you can make their job easier. Now, I know I can sell myself to an audience full of people in less than 10 seconds, but at least all parties involved are having a good time. This latest run of job interviews is basically teaching me that I am going to be miserable until I get off my fat ass and get back to the dream at hand.

I am NOT corporate America. Most of these executives look at me like I landed here from Saturn. I decided to “act” like what they would want, an obedient, vacuous robot to do their bidding. Not only to I feel dirty, I feel stupid and colorless. I check my personality at the door and walk in there half dead. All the things that people love about me have NO market value in the workplace. Realizing this makes me know under no circumstances will I sell my soul to the devil. (Who I actually interviewed with but that’s another blog)

Sure more money would pay my rent increase but I need to reevaluate what the hell I am doing with my life. Money doesn’t solve anything, if I’m in a job I hate, working for someone I loathe something tells me I am going to disappear entirely. That my magic tree house will just become a jail, and the light and sparkle that is me will just go out.

Karen Friedman Cooper hired me 7 years ago because I came in and told her that this job wasn’t my life and that my dream was bigger and brighter than anything non-profit could offer. She hired me because of that, and somewhere along the way I got lazy, and forgot why I’m here. Why I live in New York, and have made it my home, it’s not to be a drone. The baby leg sidelined me and the pain I have is a reminder that I need to start living again in spite of it. 10 months is a long time to have pain everyday. It can’t be an excuse anymore, it will get better, it has too, one day it too will all be a memory.

Maybe this is what the universe is trying to tell me. That I have been hiding under the blanket of Judaic safety too long and now I have to get back in the game before it’s too late. Before the dream and the girl is lost.

The change I thought I needed to make isn’t what I have to do at all. December 15th I have a show at Don’t Tell Mama’s let’s see if I can reignite a passion that needs me as much as I need it.

Huzzah!

Someone Told Me Once that...

We didn't come here to fit in.
We came here to be who we are.
We didn't come here to work.
We came here to live our dreams.
We didn't come here for the stuff.
We came here to love each other.
We didn't come here by accident.
We each came here with a purpose that is uniquely our own.
Be
Dream
Love
Thrive
Always (semper)!

This is the motto I forgot. I used to sleep on the street for art. In the hopes of being inspired beyond my birth. Now, I sell my soul for a bi-weekly paycheck that covers the comforts, but doesn't touch what is important. Doesn't touch my heart, my soul, my passion. My dreams, they are not for sale. But I in the end they are already sold. When and where is the salvation to break this hold? Jesus is dead, Vishnu is blue so where does that leave me and you?

How to a save the original soul that came to this city? Wide eyed, pure and optimistic even in this political climate. Where did she go? My matinee girl that thought love and fortune lived beyond the next turn of fate's dice. I miss her. I know she's there, but just trapped under something. Something heavy and full of owe. I long to release her, to tell her that her true heart roams free that it should find all it can before the 9 to 5 beats the joy out of her.

Tell me, do you see her? Maybe she passes you on the street full of life and relentless love for what the next day might bring. If you see her, tell her that I miss her and long for her touch. I might wax dramatic but this is life we are talking about and what is more dramatic than the 8 million heart beats that pump in and out of the this city day in and day out? If only the MTA could charge for what comes naturally then we wouldn't worry about the next hike. Our souls would bare the brunt of politics and maybe we'd steal an uptown ride within the 2 hour limit.

What light through yonder window breaks? It is my heart and is there no repose for a wounded soul such as I? Billy didn't plan for me...but just wait. My soul has just begone to cry out and in the end, well if the gods smile I'll be spinning that Tony, wicked, wicked approval. The greatest writers write without regard to approval. Approval is death and my soul will not die at the hands of it. So wait, listen and long for what comes next...it might just change the world.

My 2 Cents...

I just went through my penny drawer and I have decided that I love them....flipping through the dates is like a tiny time machine and my mind tries to think of all the places these little guys have been...I just get all I don't know wide eyed to think of what their "lifespan" is like...

To try and capture it on film would be a documentary endeavor beyond my scope, so I might have to just imagine a fictitious journey and try to get it down on paper. This week I found some gems. A 1944 copper head with an alternate back that says One Cent, a 1959 and some from the 70’s that remind me of being a kid, a few 80’s but not many, probably because Reagan couldn’t be bothered to print the poor little bastards, and then pristine copper ones from the late 90’s into the 00’s.

However, it’s the ’44 and ’59 that really spark my imagination. They’ve been around longer than my parents were, they will probably be in pockets long after I’m gone and no one will ever be able to even fathom the distances they’ve travels or articles they’ve purchased. Were they someone’s lucky penny? Did they live for a decade in a loafer? Spend time in a bubble gum machine? Kept someone from going hungry? Probably all of the above and then some.

Flat Abe is regal and yet so tiny. His profile doesn’t change not even if the coin is well worn. He’s timeless and calm at his seat always looking to the right as if he’s trying to see if the train is coming. Sometimes when I see him lying in the street I leave him there, hoping that some child might be overjoyed to find him. Day dreaming of Abe’s unfolding adventure gives me more delicious respite then if I tossed him up into my change valet. Sure he would have a grand time visiting with old friends but I usually just simply nod and pay my respects and wish him a safe journey, but that’s only if he’s face up.

To Be Continued....

My Golden Girl

My mother would have been 68 today.

She would have just been hitting her prime as a sassy senior with all the strut and promise of a woman who’s lived a life full of family, laughter and love.

Both of us were born on Friday the 13th something that might seem to be unlucky to most, but not us. We always thought of it as a reminder that we were special. Nobody lifts an eyebrow if you were born on the 3rd, 18th or 23rd. But tell them you were born on the 13th and you always get a hair-raising reaction.

If I try to sum my mother up into one thing it would be impossible. She was so many things to so many different people. She made an impact wherever she went and with whomever she came in contact. The “IT” Factor can totally be applied to her, people were drawn to her, they respected and admired who she was and not just because she threw one hell of a party. She was the party.

I can remember as a little girl watching the parties my parents threw, my sister and I would sneak down the hall in our footy pj’s to peer around the corner into the grand room. Dad would be at the piano playing some swing tune that made everyone dance like no one was watching. Mom would be whirling around making sure everyone had what they needed, the laughter and the smiling faces of friends and neighbors are still as clear today in my mind as they were then. Or if my parents went out on the town, again my sister and I would be spellbound while watching Mom put on her make up and her fancy dress. Shalimar and Old Spice bring me right back to those moments.

She loved pecan ice cream and chocolate turtles. Old movies and popcorn made on the stove. She loved to dance and even won a swing contest or two with my father. Dancing with her in the kitchen between unending rounds of holiday baking used to make us laugh so hard my sister and I’d fall to the floor.

Her most treasured possessions, other than her family, were the pictures she took. She used to tell me if the house ever caught fire to grab the albums and run. She was meticulous is printing on the back when, where and who was in each shot. I guess she thought she would be spending hours pouring over the past and reliving those Kodak moments. Now they serve as the only way back for me to remember the family that seems all too distant.

My sense of humor is a mix of my mother’s and father’s both cards in their own right, but in very different ways. Dad was silly and goofy, slap sticky with a smidge of stooges, and mother was the best of what dry; witty, smart, perfectly timed English humor is at its finest. She loved to read, and when I say read I mean everything, she read books like I eat potato chips. As a young woman she wanted to go to college and be a chemist, but forgo it so her brothers could go because they would have to support families. Truly a waste since they never finished.

We planed to write children’s books together after I graduated from college and even finished one that I used in a creative writing class. Unfortunately she got sick the summer before my senior year and that dream got shelved. We all traveled that last year together, after I graduated, doing and seeing as much as we could. Packing in all the life as a family before we knew it would all disappear.

I try to think about what life would be like if she was still here. How different I might be or if I would have made other choices due to her influence? Where and who would I be if things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong? She was my best friend; the one person I know loved me just for me. Even with all my flaws and insecurities she never made me feel like I didn’t matter. Her pet names for me were, Missy or Princess, to unlikely words to describe the Brandy of today.

Being from the south nobody really went by their given names. My father went by Doc, my mother was Rea or Aunt Rea, my sister until puberty was Scooter, and I forever and always will be Brandy. None of which appear on our birth certificates. My parents even had nicknames for each other, Pooh Bear and Boo Boo Bear…which naturally just became Pooh & Boo. I think that’s why people with out nicknames worry me. It’s almost like nobody cared about them enough to make them their own, to put a stamp of affection on your relationship is to me the highest form of flattery.

November 13th, 1939 (The year both Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz premiered) my mother Mariea Gladys LaCone Rowell pushed her way into the world. I miss her everyday, and on this day especially, so I try and do something we would have done together. After work I am going to see a show, she’s the one that introduced me to the theatre and supported my every endeavor in my pursuit of finding my light. My only regret is that she never got to see me perform.

Well, that’s not true, she saw me entertain at the dinner table, and when we where out with friends. But that’s not the same as standing alone on stage at Caroline’s in front of a packed house. She probably would have been so nervous for me that she wouldn’t have been able to watch. Wringing her hands until that first wave of laughter burst forth; yeah I would have liked her to have seen me shake my jelly.

She would be so proud of all the fears I’ve conquered, but frankly there are many more and while I know she’s watching out for me, I wish she was here. I wish I could remember her voice. I wish she could meet all the wonderful people I have in my life who are my family now. She was the greatest birthday present I ever got and I’d trade anything to hear her call me Missy just one more time, I love you Mom, Happy Birthday!

When your friends start turning 40….don’t panic!

Recently I have had some dear friends turn 40. Realizing not unlike Sally Albright (aka Meg Ryan) that I will too turn forty, “someday”! However, to me it doesn’t seem like the big dead end that caused said starlet to shed tears in 1989. I myself have turn 25 & 30 more times than most, but age is not what it used to be.

My southern roots oblige me never to reveal my true age because that would not be lady like, and frankly when you’re in show business such a revelation can be a speed bump in the ever growing youth culture market. Youth obsession is getting well…old.

I watch young people on my way to work; they are like aliens that when grouped in packs speak a language that I can barely decipher. They are shortening the English language into what is almost comparable to that African Clicking sound. Totally has become Totes, Whatever has become Whatev, things are getting so fast that they barely have time to articulate. Unfortunately, like is still alive and well and will probably be the only word they don’t deteriorate. My point is this there is no value in being young, other than being young. My mother used to say you are as old as you feel, and frankly I look at the wide spectrum of my friends whose ages range from 22 to 60 and on the average I’m thinking I will hang at 32 for awhile.

Last night I was out for Halloween, I was dressed as the Fuzzy Crippled Pumpkin Girl Avenger of all Squash! I was accompanied by Hot Slut Harmionie, a Flapper, Saucy Pirate Queen, Popeye & a Pretty Kitty. Clearly friends from the 20something range…Pretty Kitty looked at me and asked how old I was, I told her, she was “Like” no way! I thought you were 24 maybe 25!!!

I am a burning vision of timeless youth. An eternal Pan sans flute.

Ponce del Eon thought it came in a fountain when really it just comes from within, silly Spaniard. As time marches on I continue to hold my own with people who are a decade younger than me...so you see, I am not getting any older anytime soon, time is my bitch and I will have my way with her. I suggest you do the same.

Letting Go!

I am not one to "let go".

I hold on until my knuckles turn white and the feeling in my hands fade.

Most of the things I clutch to so dearly I can't actually touch. Ideas, feelings, dreams, all of which live in my heart and mind, ironically two other places I can never touch.

I hold onto people, even if they are bad for me because somewhere in my mind I feel that if I dream hard and long enough I will get what I want.

Story tellers speak of crossroads, legendary places in our hearts and minds or maybe even actual addresses where we as naked humans dance with the devil of choice in the pale moon light.

This is where I stand now, on the edge, scared, scarred not sure of what to do, but knowing that things must be said. Change is afoot and I must heed it's call. Some people say I am a 6, LOL and a phobic 6 at that, they are right, this is my curse my struggle against my own fear that keeps me crippled. I want so much and expect so little.

I wonder if this feeling lies in the spirit of every adopted child or if it's just a quality of bastards? Either way I am bound, trapped, the one place a 6 never wants to be. I must chose and for me in this moment choice is life. The wrong choice is metaphorical death. Confrontation is something an adopted child avoids with all sincerity. Confrontation, or resistance could lead to expulsion or rejection the 2 things a bastard can't be apart of again.

We go to great pains to keep people from leaving. If someone leaves that means we have failed. Period. What is radical and what I am faced with today is the notion of pushing someone anyway because it is in my best interest. I have always put myself last, something I learned from my mother. Bringing others joy and peace always out weighted my own needs.

Hahah, my needs, sorry that makes me laugh, what I need and want has never been available to me. It seems the more love and give the less I get....of course after 3 years of intensive therapy I know what is wrong I just can't manage to fix it.

My biggest sin, I love the wrong people. It's like I pick the ones who will hurt me the deepest and the longest. Which brings me back to confrontation, do I say what I feel, risk rejection which I know is the verdict? I know I am worth it, but do I have the courage to be brave enough to say good-bye?

Frankly the answer is yes. I know it is yes. I am a person of means and worth, my friends would do anything for me and I for them, they are my family, my home.

It's time.

Time to love myself enough to say enough I can bare no more. I will lose something that I prize more than any amount of money or any memento, but in the end I will gain so much more. I am finally hearing the voices of those who love me and finally realizing that my inner critic was right, Brandy deserves more and in the end will find what she seeks.

Neglect...

I have a tendency to neglect things, usually inanimate things, like this blog for one. For the most part I am responsible, I walk the dog, pick up the poop, I wash my bits and send my clothes out to Helen who takes such good care of them, but this blog has gone dormant and that is too bad.

Life happens while you wait for other things to manifest. Dreams, goals, your hearts true longing, but that is all in your head. Pulling it into reality takes, pluck, and gumption, moxie if you will. I have set some balls in motion and hope that the return will force my tiny little life to change. Change, both thrilling and terrifying all at the same time and you never have to leave the ground.

My will to manifest change has kept me from my blogging, lame excuse I know. My fellow bloggers I am sure are all so sorry. lol!! As if anyone reads my prattle, but nonetheless, I have been neglectful.

Writing defines me yet I do so little of it. In fact I try not to...as if I am running from the one thing that gives me comfort. Such is the idle pursuit of an adopted child, not worthy of what makes her truly happy. Seems 3 years of therapy has been a bust. Well not a bust, I mean I know what's wrong, I have the skill set to fix it and yet still remain idle in making my life all it can be. Tragic but not irreversible.

So where are we? I neglect my blog, I neglect myself, I lose track and find every reason not to pursue what makes me feel the best I can feel. Seems like The Secret isn't going to cut it. I'm going to need a double shot of something else to find my way back to my path of self evolution.

I am on my Autumnal Break, a string of Jewish Holidays and Vacation Days that afford me this luxury to have the time to return to my blog. In the next week I have lofty goals, job interviews, play dates with friends, theatre, music, and all the DVR I can stand before my dog drags me to the park for a romp in the greenest place in Manhattan!

October 8th is 7 days away, it's the day I return to the cube, but until that day I swear not to neglect any of my wildest dreams, my passions, my TRUE work in this world. So let this blog be a herald to any and all who might read. Brandy is back, the baby leg is near perfection and nothing will cause me to slide back into this neglect again...nothing.

Lost but Never Forgotten...

After a full and wonderful Taco Tuesday I headed home to walk the baby girl, my Kayla. She was doing the pee-pee dance and so we made haste for the curb. Only to run into Henry's Mama.

See that is what it is like to own a dog in NYC. You don't know the owners name, you just know them by the name of their dog. She is a middle aged woman, I have talked to her practically every day since the first week I had Kayla.

Kayla never liked Henry, he was a beautiful English Bull Dog who never gave her cause to bark but for some reason Kayla never liked Henry. She made me feel embarrassed because he gave Kayla no cause for concern. She's moody what can I say.

However, tonight I saw Henry's Mama while Kayla and I made our nightly rounds. Henry's Mama stopped me to say that Henry had died. He wasn't sick. She had just taken him to the Vet for a check up and for some reason he started to vomit. Then he choked and died. Poor, beautiful, sweet Henry. He was a good boy and always welcomed me scratching his hind quarters.

An accident, took him away from his Mama. In her reaching out to me in her pain, I realized that our pets give us so much more than we give them. Maybe it's because I am an orphan, but honestly Kayla is my heart. I have no doubt that if it should arise she would fight to the death for me. Her sweet face, her smile, how she picks people to say Hello too. Such an honest, caring soul for someone with out words.

Henry's Mama was so hurt. I didn't know what to say. But what struck me most was the fact that I don't know her name. She is just Henry's Mama. What does that say? I am planning to leave a condolences card for her with her door man. Even in the wake of not knowing her name, I will just leave it for Henry's Mama. I am sure the doorman will know who I mean. Henry was quite a good boy and I will always remember him sitting in the sun with his Mama waiting for a good scratch from a friendly neighbor.

RIP~Henry, I will not forget your smile...and neither will your devote mother.
xox,
b

in my stillness....

in my stillness is a purity all it's own. if I want to compare it to something that you can relate too. Go to your bathroom. Fill the tube. Undress. Get in and submerge yourself into it. Wait. Wait for it. Your ear drums will equalize and suddenly you are still.

You are in a world of your own making and the only thing that betrays it is your need to breath. It will come, as sure as time passes over the face of a grandfather you are not related too.

It's an urge, a surge of need. Our bodies betray us and deny us a prolonged visit in the stillness. As if we are not worthy of it's grace. As if we are genetically flawed.

Breathing air. Our only real constant brings you back to the surface away from the quite, away from our minds ramblings, back into the sound of our lives.

I have few vices, but the one thing I wish would last is the stillness in my tub. A world that doesn't judge, there is no one to tell me I can't, the only thing I live by is the rule that will not be denied, that I must breath.

To break the surface tension, to leave the center of my soul, to take nourishment and remember that I am human. Something I will be until I die.

Still again in a box waiting for a breath that will not come.

holes...

For he past 6 months I have had a hole in my left leg that will not heal. It swells, it bleeds, it oozes, but it doesn't compare to the hole in my heart, or soul really. It's a deficit, a lack of...hmmm good question. I have been trying to be an adult for awhile now. Masquerading as someone who thinks they have the answers but it's all smoke and mirrors. I have a razor sharp tongue and guts full of mush which means, I know where I want to go but don't have the stomach to get there. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Depends on who YOU are.

In spite of my dead relatives I do have a family. One of my own making, people who are AMAZING!!! Fortunately they think I am too. I am constantly surprised by the wealth I have, not in dollars mind you but I have invested in people. A commodity that most Wall Streeters over look. It is people after all that we deal with everyday. I am determined to believe that my wealth lies in how I am perceived.

Weather it be real or illusion. Mind you, I do not play games, I try to be as above board as anyone else however, let it be noted that effort in all things is highly underrated.

If nothing else I am true, blue and unshakable in how I treat said family. What I have is theirs for the asking and I hope this is vice versa. Even if it's not I live by this code and will not waver.

So what is this blog about, am I making a mission statement, am I trying to tell the people in my inner circle that I will be there for them no matter what, am I just trying to be endearing? Someone you can take home to Mom? I think it's D: All of the Above.

If you are lucky enough (and I say that with all humility) to fall into my circle of friends, know this, my love and support is without bounds or limits. If you ask, you will never be denied. This is my pledge and if you hurray you can still buy me a drink at the bar! :-)

truth...

I started blogging as a way to vent. I tend to keep things closed off from my friends, and the people I work with, my family or what's left of it. I am a fail and fragile creature not that anyone would know.

I keep up a tough front, as the only "son" born to my father. I have tried to be the perfect child. Only to fall short of their dreams. They loved me I know that, but I wonder, am I who I should be? Who can say, how we tip our hand to the passerby next to us or the "friend" that seems engaged in what is going on in our day today lives.

I like to think that people think well of me. That I am someone that people might treasure in the Pantheon of their lives. Grand thinking for a fat kid. I get glimpses of what I think I mean to people. These quick flutter-bys of information, a kind word, or gesture that might mean more than thanks for the copies....who can say. The human creature tends to tuck away their true feelings for fear of exposure. Or maybe that's just me.

On the up and up, I love too much and say too little about how the people in my life that effect me. I've been through enough therapy to know my patterns, to know my skill set, to know what it is that I want, yet am still paralyzed to obtain it.

Someday I hope as we all do, to be the person we are meant to be, to give all that we can to make society a better place. Wow, maybe I am that bleeding heart liberal my right wing father always warned me about.

Either way, I stand in the wake of loss that would cripple most people. Yet, I still reach for that which seems unreachable. I stand on the shoulders of my ancestors and I wait for the moment that I can be the notion that passes through my mind 13 times a day.

Be brave, be smart, be open to love and it WILL find you...if only it was that easy.
Maybe it's too late, maybe I'm a fool, but I look forward and hope that the love of my parents will watch over me, because in the end that is all that I have.

Mad Men...Thursday Night 10pm on AMC!!!

Last night was the 4th episode in my new favorite show…Mad Men.

I can not tell you how amazing this show is, if you aren’t watching it start!! All the episodes are available on demand on the Free Movies On Demand station (if you have Time Warner) and I believe online at amctv.com. Make sure you watch the 25 minute “Making of…” Special it really shows you how deep they are going to make this series a back in time travel piece. The Producers are crazy over accuracy and detail, which I LOVE!!

It takes place in 1960, and follows the lives of a group of Ad Executives at a firm called Sterling Cooper. The CEO is Robert Morse, who played J. Pierpont Finch, in the original production of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying!!! Plus they have two other theatre people in the show John Slattery & Bryan Batt. Batt plays the undercover gay brilliantly, watch for the homo clues!!! Here is the website if I’ve peaked your interest http://media.amctv.com/originals/madmen/

Also, during commercial breaks they give you little factoids about the advertising world followed by a commercial pertaining to said factoid. Soooooo genius I can’t even tell you. As much as I hate being manipulated by the corporate pirates I adore that they are using the show as a platform to launch into commercials. Almost, poking fun at how obvious it really all is, how they come into your home and push their products.

It’s commentary on the generational gaps, then and now, how men behave, the office politics, sexism, adultery, drinking, smoking, racism, anti-Semitism; they don’t hold back at all which so refreshing. Plus, it’s darkly funny, and asks the question, “Have we really changed all that much?” One of the writers says, “No, we just are more polite.”

If you start watching the show, please let me know, I would love to have a water cooler gang to discuss what’s happening, right now it’s just me talking to the television and Kayla (the dog) looking at me like I have lobsters crawling out of my ears!!!

myface....

Recently I joined the facebook nation, and every time I tell someone of my new profile, I slip down Freud’s ally and say, “myface…” instead. Which made me realize that I have TOO MANY PROFILES ONLNE!!!

We run around the internet slapping our faces all over the place and yet we don’t even talk to the people that live next door. Multiple lists of our favorite things, music we like, movies we love all in some vein effort to get people to notice us through fiber optics. I can’t take it anymore. I am craving interaction with live people, not your Simpsonized self or your Wee Me!! You, actual you in the flesh with all your flaws and secretions.

Plus, if you haven’t noticed all these profiles are an infinite series on how to spy on your friends and family. The aforementioned facebook book gives you a running feed of who is doing what to whom and when they do it!!!

We have become our own Big Brother. Everyone is watching and looking at pictures of friends and their friends and friends of their friends. I am not sure I need all of that information in my young and sensitive mind. I joke that I am going to start a website called, myface…which will sort of be like The Onion, the twisted version of profile truth and its role in the media.

So make sure you get on the band wagon early and tell all your friendsters, facebookers, and myspace buddies that there’s a new kid in town. myface…the sight where you can use any face that isn’t your own!!!

Barbara Wa~Wa!!! Time to Go!!!!

Is it me, but ever since Rosie left The View and Barbara Walters has had to show up everyday to be the backbone of TV "morality" (a term I am not sure is the right thing to say here nonetheless) she seems to be lost in her own mind. I am not saying she is doing drugs, or is drunk, I just think that BW is NOT all there anymore. She rambles herself into corners with no exit. Her puns, quips and attempts at humor fall flat like flapjacks in January!!!

I have a lot of respect for her career that seems to span 4 generations, however the daily toll on The View without the buffer of Meredith or Rosie has put a spotlight on the seemingly feeble minded Walters.

Maybe she isn't getting enough protein? Maybe she is not sure how to be anymore, I mean after interviewing practically every major Hollywood star and every head of state on the globe how in the world can she regress into Restless Leg Syndrome???

I remember when I was so enraged by Debbie "The Greek" that I wrote a few "hate" emails objecting to her "view" as the one that was supposed to represent me from my generation. I am not saying that my words prompted her demise however, I don't believe I was alone.

So now as I look into the Whoopi flavored future I wonder? Will she bring Hot Topics to a warm boil? I think not not!! Whoopi herself is a hot topic, just because you swap out comics doesn't mean you are going to suddenly be the breast milk of the masses.

I look forward to what The View will become...the topics, the fights, the humor which undoubtedly be at Elisabeth's expense due to her narrow corridor of views on major issues.

Oh, BW may think the tussles are over but watch out Babs, Whoopi has a forked tongue and there will be NO sacred cows!!! Regardless of what's in her contract!!!

Good luck and g*d bless!!!

So surprised...

So I am up watching Jay Leno which I never do, I am more of a Dave person, but Claire Danes is on and I have always had a sweet spot for the Danes. Anyhoo, she is have witty patter with Jay. Then all of a sudden he uncovers that she is an avid Golden Girls fan. Me likey that answer. He asks who is your favorite golden girl. She responds, Betty White, "I went as her for Halloween one year," more points for the scarily thin Danes.

Jay retorts, so if you met Betty White what....before he can finish Danes is like I would just die, I wouldn't know what to say...and yes you guessed it...enter Betty White.

Now Betty has been doing a few spots for Jay recently including a segment of an archer aiming arrows at her face through plexiglass in something called, Will Betty Flinch!!! Freaking HI-Larious!!

This however almost brought me to tears because out comes Betty, Claire can't believe it, they hug, Claire searches for words, Betty presents her with the first 2 seasons of the Golden Girls on DVD. Danes is overcome with nothingness, and in a quite voice Betty says, "Let me get out of your way," Betty White!!!! Excusing herself as if she could ever be a burden on the viewing public EVER!!!

Then she quips with Jay, "I had a chance to have legs like that but I turned them down," Gesturing to said Danes gams. Danes then did repeatedly the I'm not worthy bow a'la Waynes World. AS SHE SHOULD!!! As Mrs. White made her exit!!! A great moment in late night talk as the young guard serves props to the old!!!

BIG POINTS for you Danes and I'll see you on Broadway in Pygmalion!!! Tread lightly Stardust NYC has fangs!!! BRAVA!!!

Holy Hashem!!!!

I can not believe I left out my Jews in the last blog. How could I forget my chosen people??? I owe so much to these friends who have become family to me by complete accident 6 years ago!! You are a part of my heart for all the good, the bad and all the holidays this Goyim will never be the same and I am truly blessed to be your faux Jew.

Shabbat Shalom!!! My Mishpacha!!! xoxox

Universes Collide

In my young life I have had the great pleasure of knowing quite a few people. After losing my parents I realized it was up to me to redefine what I was to call my “family” after all I lost them really young and have a lot of years (knock on wood) to fill.

I started with a solid foundation of acting apprentices with whom I earn my Equity card. Ronnie, Katie, Erin and Allen are the cream of that crop, friends I have known now for 12yrs. They have seen me at my lowest and fattest and still love me just the way I am, because if they don’t I know where all the bodies are buried!! LOL!! Hello, pot this is kettle, you’re black!

After moving to New York and discovering that Stage Management was NOT the true course of my life. I stumbled into a Learning Annex Class on How to be a Stand-Up Comic. Not exactly a paint by numbers course but in the process I have collected a menagerie of comedians all of which share the trenches with me on a weekly basis. We support each other in shows, help with bits and of course drink our way to the stars after slaying them in the aisles. I have met both amazing comics and amazing assholes. Luckily I can tell the difference and there isn’t a day that goes by that I am not thankful for those who have stuck with me since the beginning. Vinnie, Poppi, Jeni, Andrea, Ron, Darlene, Ophira, Ann, Fiona, Karith, Susan, Nicole & Erin, just to name a few, but then there are the new comics that inspire and keep me going Michael, Cooper, David, Wendy, & Jackie they remind me of how fun this all is and why you do it for no pay (most of the time).

Then there are the theatre folk….the talented gypsies that have strolled into my life and have stayed, because I’m not one to break up a party. They are singers, dancers, singers who dance, dancers who sing, there’s even a dog act. I’ve done shows with them I’ve kissed a few and dated even less. This family grows the quickest because not unlike the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon Game, show people know other show people and so on and so on. You can’t sling a cat at a party with out figuring out that so in so went to grad school with the guy you just closed Fiddler on the Roof with in Indiana. Not to mention the “showmances” that occur when working, they say the Lesbian community is incestuous, we have nothing on theatre whores.

This lattice work makes me believe that we are all in this together. That if you hang in there long enough you will find yourself on a stage somewhere shaking your jelly and maybe someday someone will hand you a TONY for it.

So here they are in no particular order but alphabetical the cast of thousands that keep me smart and polished: Abe, Angela, Angie, Anne T., Blake, Brian D., Brian E., Chan, Chris G., Curtis, Danielle, Francis, Ginger, Jake, James, Jen R., Josh, Jules, Julia, Katy, Kevin, Kristin, Laura Beth, Leigh Anne, Liisa, Madeline, Mark, Michelle, Meish, Missy, Ned, Nora, RAJ, Ryan, Sara, Shannon, Sorsha, Stephen, Suzanne, Tom, & Wayne. Honorable mention to Buddy & Vickie…the invisible glue.

I am sure that I have left out a few and I am sure I will hear about it, but whether you’ve known me for 12yrs or 15 minutes hang on, it’s bumpy, but it’s one hell of a ride.

Oh, and momma, don’t worry, I’m fine, these angels are watching out for your princess. TTFN!

Clearly they didn't read my review...

WTF????

Pirate Queen Cast Album Comes Ashore July 3 - God Help Us Everyone....
By Kenneth Jones w/colorful additions by Brandy Rowell

The Broadway cast album of The Pirate Queen, the new musical by Claude-Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil, will be released July 3 by Masterworks Broadway. ARGHH!! LOOK OUT!

The disc of the drum-thumping, pennywhistle-kissed score is all that remains of the $16 million staging that closed June 17 at the Hilton Theatre.

The producers of the Irish-history musical yarn are seeking a European life for the epic by the Tony Award-winning authors of Les Misérables and Miss Saigon. Serves them right for sending us all that tea.

The show opened April 5 following a Chicago tryout and New York previews from March 6. Upon closing, played 85 performances and 32 previews, at a loss of most of its reported $16 million investment.

"We are proud of The Pirate Queen and the talented cast and creative team that has brought this epic musical to Broadway," producers Moya Doherty and John McColgan (Riverdance) said in an earlier announcement. "We are also pleased to report that there is international interest in Pirate Queen productions. Plans for a European English-language production are underway and will be announced in the near future."

The Pirate Queen did not receive a single 2007 Tony Award nomination. NOOOOOO Really???

In the months leading up to the Broadway bow, following its fall 2006 tryout in Chicago, the show was rewritten and re-staged, with the help of 11th-hour artists Richard Maltby and Graciela Daniele. Who have now retired in shame....or should!!!

In the name of the father (Shakespeare) and of the son (Fosse) and of the holy ghost (TN Williams), May she never reach American shores again...Amen.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Another year over….well another Jewish year, our annual Campaign comes to an end as of midnight June 30, 2007. I can honestly say that I am exhausted. However, we finished $3 million ahead of what we raised last year and that is quite a feat for any not for profit in these financially in climate times.

As much as I bitch and moan about having to even have a day job while I try and figure out how to be a self employed stand up comic my gig with the Jews isn’t so bad. I get all the holidays off, never get attitude when I am out sick, and moreover am part of a community that I never would have thought would see me as an upstanding member.

On Monday July 2, 2007 the kosher caterer that caters all of our events treats us to an amazing party as a thank you for using them throughout the year. Everything under the sun you can think of, from Kosher Pigs in a blanket to Sushi for days, an open bar, dancing till the sun goes down, this faux Jew is in heaven once a year. I relish all past parties and look forward to the one ahead. Shabbat Shalom Everyone!!! To Life!!!

And now a nap…zzzzzzzzz

Time Heels all Wounds...

Time is a cruel mistress, not only does she rage across our bodies in a death march, she also takes her sweet time in mending our boo-boos. One February 22, I had foot reconstruction surgery, apparently working out like a woman possessed can be a bad thing.

The operation went fine and the drugs were great, and for almost four weeks straight I was in my magic tree house convalescing. I got care packages and get well cards which made me feel secure and loved in a time of vulnerability. Many of you came to see me, bringing me food and hugs, at least I think ya’ll were there, I was high on Oxycontin most of the time so I could have just been talking to myself.

My plan was to stay at home for the four weeks and catch up on my stories and watch all the extras on the Lord of the Rings DVD’s, which as I found out can be dangerous while on Oxycontin, because you start thinking your studio apartment is in the Shire. That was 3 months ago.

Today is June 18th; I spent two hours this morning in physical therapy. Fabian, my therapist who has a ponytail and is of some Asian decent, told me frankly that he would hurt me and he does 3 times a week. If I live through this my dream is to one day be able to workout and finally attain a body to be proud of, if Fabian has his way I will. Albeit broken spiritual as his hands rain down a fire that can only be described as Apocalyptic! I physically try to get away from him and have to fight the urge to kick him in the face. My therapy resembles something I saw once on Law & Order: SUV. Only unlike the poor hooker, I get to live….for now. My pain threshold has always been high. My body and I have been through a lot of accidents, sickness, even near death, but honestly I would go through that all again before I go through another ambulatory ailment.

My message is simple. Take care of your feet. They legs they are attached too and the back they support. As New Yorkers we pound the crap out them every day on the streets, in the gym, on the subway stairs, you need them more than you know. Because when they stop bouncing back you stop moving….period. The next time you think of passing on a pedicure because it’s just a luxury. Think again and treat your two best friends that go everywhere with you with a little love. Might I suggest Waitress Red nothing feels better than a sassy toe and they deserve it!

The Pirate Queen

Recently my day job has given me the opportunity to see some free theatre. I am never one to turn down free tickets to anything so off I went with my friend Jake to see, The Pirate Queen last night. Now, I was excited about seeing it, even when I heard the first murmurs of it coming to Broadway I was thrilled to have a female heavy show that featured corsets and swords. Plus, Stephanie Block has a voice from the angels and if she can be Liza in Boy from Oz then surely she can swagger around the sea as a pirate. Wide eyed and optimistic the show opens with what visually could be considered a fart. A chorus boy with a pan flute wandering the decks of a ship only to be followed by Grace (the pirate queen) and Tiernan her childhood friend turned lover inaudibly scamper around the stage. When suddenly, nothing happens, really they think they hear something and it’s nothing….this is the show in a nut shell.

Jake and I sat there in wonder at what actually made it into the show. Sing song exposition that didn’t expound on anything or of little importance or was so garbled I couldn’t understand what they were saying. The audience is waiting for the first fight sequence and when it finally gets on board, we watch the chorus boys run around the stage in no particular order waving their swords. I know, I know it sounds like a night out at Splash, but little swashbuckling buckled under the giant mast of The Pirate Queen which (also is the name of the ship) the O’Malley Clan roams in the sea aboard. Needless to say Grace wants to be a pirate and her father won’t let her so she sneaks aboard the ship, performs an act of heroism and gets her father to let her stay. Tiernan and her make a love pact only to be torn apart when the O’Malley’s decided to join forces with the O'Flaherty’s to fight the English which means Grace has to forgo her love for Tiernan and marry the villain son of Mr. O'Flaherty. Ho hum seen it before, don’t care because no one in the cast seems to either.

Nothing happens for about 30minutes when Grace’s father is wounded in a battle we don’t get to see, and she walks back across Ireland to see him before he dies. This makes no sense because why doesn’t she just sail there??? Why is The Pirate Queen walking anywhere and why does it take so long??? Watching a cast walk across stage for the length of a song is boring and then it snows, does it snow in Ireland??? I’m confused. Well, Daddy dies Grace leaves her philandering husband, becomes chieftain, & gets back with Tiernan. Daddy’s funeral ends the first act with the traditional burial of setting the boat adrift and the body on fire. Only when the “body” and boat get shoved down stage with oars it looks like a Pork Roast that needs basting. I laughed out loud at a moment that should have made me sad….NOT even close.

During intermission Jake and I tore the show apart and put it back together as if we had been the ones welding millions of dollars around a story no one cares about. Astoundingly the people around us could not stop gushing about how much they loved it…I checked to make sure they didn’t have down syndrome or some other affliction but no, they just seemed to be from Jersey.

The lights go down and Grace and her fat Irish friend come up out of the floor (a device that I have left out until now, but trust me it’s no big whoop, everything in the show either comes out of the hole or goes into the hole, kind of like Paris in jail) Grace is giving birth to a baby and or her tubby friend is giving her a PAP smear we can’t tell because they go back down into the hole so fast. But sure enough she’s having a baby and it’s a boy…we know this because the crew is now peering down into the hole (creepy) and at Sound Q 37 – babying crying…one of the sailors yells, “it’s a boy.” Grace sings a beautiful lullaby to her new baby and just when the audience is serene BANG, BANG, BANG cannons are going off and people in the audience are screaming!!! My eyes are burning because I was actually looking in the wrong place at the wrong time when the explosions (and I mean explosions) go off. I haven’t heard or smelled gun powder like that since I went to a Gettysburg reenactment as a child. But at least my heart rate elevated and I possibly lost a little weight.

Now the baby isn’t Tiernan’s its evil ex-husbands who plots to have Grace turned over to the English so he can get his son. However, after the ambush Grace goes to jail, Tiernan kills the ex-husband at which the audience yells HUZZAH!! Really they did audible cheers. Tiernan raising the baby for 7 years at which time he goes to the Queen and begs her to take him in place of Grace so she can be with her son. My question is it took him 7years??? I think he rather just sit in jail than deal with a toddler. Grace gets out, goes home see her son and then leaves him immediately to go back to England to tell the Queen that her people are being mistreated and starving. The cast is now dressed in old Les Miz costumes and walking around in groups…hmmmm all they need is a turn table, but we’ll just come up out of this handy hole we have instead.

The 2 female leaders sing the only decent song in the show, then go behind a back lit map, make a bargain for peace, and tie up all lose ends into our happy ending. Seems like we could apply this to Iraq don’t it boys?? However, on a historic note isn’t Ireland still under British rule?? Impoverish and bitter?? Kicking up a car bomb every now and then…so much for everlasting peace. We end the show with a Riverdance and sail merrily home with lover and son into our curtain call.

Frankly I think the show would have been better if Grace and the Queen had made out. But that’s just me I guess not every storyline can be like Xena: The Warrior Princess. Christ, have they made that into a musical yet???

Is Paris Sleeping???

Cuz I wish I was.....

Well, here I am a victim of my sleeping disorder, something that I think needs documentation in case I go to prison and need to be released to my pool and opulent brownstone here in NYC.

Sleep, something that is so precious, is also so elusive to me. I was born at night and have always loved staying up late, but since I sold my soul to the 9 to 5 devil it is a problem. When I used to stage manage it wasn't a problem because once rehearsal was over and the show was running I could sleep all day, then call the show at night after which the cast would bay at the moon until sun up. Rinse Repeat. LOL.

Now, that I work for my beloved Jews things are different however my natural nocturnal need rears it's ugly head and I have nights like these where I sit up and watch random crap TV until I nod off....at some point...hopefully. Blah.

I am still reeling from Sunday night with the Tonys and the Sopranos Finale. Frankly I am still processing all of it and will post my feelings shortly. Not that any of you are standing at the ready for my opinion on either, but who can say. There might be a night owl out there worse off than me...just waiting for me to complete a thought. If I can allude to my true feelings it lies in my favorite quote from Tony Night, "I am over the hill and in a roll of a life time." Something I think might ring true for Miss Paris at some point.

While Paris is Burning...

I decided that this weekend should be full of adventure and theatre. After exploding with rage at the events that perpetually surround Paris Hilton, I treated myself to the things I love best. i.e. live theatre, meeting with friends and enjoying frosty beverages. Friday night I was planning on spending the evening waiting for my Fresh Direct delivery and playing with my dog. However, I got a call from the wild (aka my friend Ned) to join him at the Blockheads at the World Wide Plaza for $3 margaritas and to help him learn lines for his upcoming show. Being a sucker for tequila and a man who can work a fedora, off I went after said delivery.

The evening was perfect down to the pinwheel laden libations. I ran lines with Ned and we laughed at all the people who weren’t as fabulous as us. I nearly snatched a pigeon from the sky as he dove in to steal a nacho, clearly he did not realize how much I love nachos and almost paid the price for his hubris.

After our South of the Border Adventure, Ned got me into to the preview of his show, Elvis People. That’s right it’s called Elvis People, it’s about the people who love Elvis & who were around him i.e the Memphis Mafia, but does not actually star an Elvis, per say. There is an Elvis impersonator, but that’s more about his story of becoming an Elvis impersonator. Frankly, it was fun, and in its development stage so things are still changing, but overall it did make me laugh and showed me that people can be and are still fascinated by the King.

Saturday I met with my friend Anne and we saw a matinee of Beyond Glory. A one man show starring, acclaimed Broadway and film actor Stephen Lang who brings to the stage the riveting stories of eight American heroes. Recipients of the Medal of Honor, each of these men went 'above and beyond the call of duty' to a place where bravery and humility meet. In a stunning tour de force performance, Lang leads us on a journey through WWII, Korea and Vietnam, taking us to a realm beyond glory to ponder the meaning of true courage. NOW this is theatre. For 80 solid minutes this won man wove together these amazing true stories of men that fought for our freedom and for the lives of their comrades and I was completely mesmerized by how someone could just create so much with so little. Working with just a footlocker and a few different pieces of wardrobe he took me from Pearl Harbor to below the 38th parallel. Of course being the Navy Brat of a veteran of Korea and Viet Nam I am a little bias. However, it was the first time since my Dad died four years ago that I felt really close to him, and for that I am truly grateful.

TONY/Soprano Sunday!!! I pulled together a little party with friends to view the TONY’S and the Soprano’s Series Finale. I made my Mom’s lasagna, toasted garlic bread, had a nice tossed salad and finished off the night with blood orange & vanilla gelato. I think the Blood Orange was particularly tongue and cheek considering the Soprano’s unquenchable whack lust.

I am going to save my review of each show for upcoming blogs, but this longtime viewer & theatre whore was not disappointed at all with the farewell to North Jersey’s crown prince. As for the Tony’s, ugh….all I have to say is thank god for Julie White, Bill T. Jones and Mary Louise Wilson for keeping it real. Upsets and unbelievably bad musical numbers out weighed their joy and candor. But I’ll save that witty banter for a future blog…

VICTORY FOR NOW!!!

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN!!!
according to a recent MSNBC poll....
Did the judge make the right call by sending Paris Hilton back to jail? * 10113 responses
Yes, she should do her time like everyone else.93%
No, the judge is being unnecessarily hard on the heiress.6%
Yes, but she should be able to serve her time in a nicer facility.0.8%

A weeping Paris is on her way back to jail....I wish my blog had a hand in it, but I think the world has had enough of young, over privledged trust fund babies getting away with everything from drunk driving to self indulgent drug use!!

Do your time Paris, take some pride in owning up to your mistakes and spend some of that alone time thinking about the person you want to become after this incarceration. You might actual be worth something more in the end than just another E! True Hollywood Story Punchline!

3....2....1....initial Blog Launch Sequence GO!!!

After much encouragement I have decided to stay silent no longer on the world wide web; to have a voice is a gift and I intend to spit forth anything and everything that might rum rampant in my young fertile mind.

First and for most: PUT PARIS BACK IN JAIL!!!!

If they let her out of the stir because she wouldn't eat I will fly to LA and slap the LA County Sheriff and do my time proudly. She didn't eat in the first place and if she was hungry enough she would eat whatever kibble they dished out. That is if she had stayed in prison long enough to really get hungry, but I am sure that is a feeling Mr. Hilton has never been victim to.

Cross fade to tiny Brandy on a class field trip to see the movie Gandhi. Seems I recall his courageous, self sacrificing, altuistic brown behind staying in prison and he didn't eat for months!!! However, he also changed the world not only for himself but for his people.

After hearing the news yesterday that Paris was serving her time poolside at home I could not contain myself and marched into my bosses office (I have a job so I can eat, pay rent and buy dog food, unlike said heiress) to EXPLODE my rage at our legal system, which has seemed to crumble into the haves and have nots!! I can not take it!! I started screaming ATTICA ATTICA ATTICA as if to call forth a ghost from the '70s who would set things right after so much has gone wrong.


If Paris doesn't find her sorry flat behind, behind bars by night fall I vote that the townies of LA storm the bastille and free everyone!!! That's right, everyone!!! Then like Marie Antoinette (and no I don't mean that crappy movie which stole 2 hours of my life that I can never get back) Paris might find her head in precarious proximity to Madame Guillotine.