My friend Amee and I went to see Beatrice Arthur’s one-woman show at the Booth Theatre in New York in March 2002. Six months after the 9/11 attacks. During the time when they had those beams of light shooting up from where the Twin Towers had been. I didn’t meet Bea, because she had everyone [...]
This is a bonus item for my Mortified piece Streisand-orama, which I will be performing in San Francisco on April 15th and 16th, 2011; and in New York on May 12, 2011… I think what happened was I had found a “film novelization” of the movie Funny Girl, and tried to pass it off as a real book for a book report. What a mini-Philistine! What a true-blue Barbra Buddy!
This might be a way for me to connect with you, which is what my therapist says relationships and conversations are supposed to be about. Connection. What ever. Do you live somewhere where you didn’t use to live? Do you own stuff? Have you ever been surprised by something you bought in a previous life [...]
Me mum took me to Scotland last week for my 40th birthday. Of the three British countries I’ve visited (England, Ireland, Scotland) it’s my favorite. The people are a pure delight. They talk funny. And it shows in their signs… Munchy Box? Chicken Cottage? Mini-Burger that’s not a burger at all, but made of chicken? [...]
It’s reassuring that even though I don’t know when I’m going, I know where I’m going.
“From there we proceeded to Morrison’s Cafe in Williamsburg. Now everyone seems to think that this place was — To put it mildly — grosser than the blood-burgers at Roy Rogers’. I wasn’t THAT bad. The food was mediocre and rather microwave-ish. But the real horror was, while waiting for the bus, we discovered a dead cat minus its head on the train tracks behind the restaurant.”
“You should consider yourself lucky that I could quite possibly be the only teen-ager that saw your trashy article or the entire teen population could get the idea that one can make a half-way decent living throwing crap on a newspaper page like you do.”
Everything my mom did and does for me is selfless, and priceless to me. This boxed museum of me has ended up being surprisingly, incalculably helpful to my career. It is a box-shaped embodiment of the quiet things a mother does to help her kids.
In my loud bouquet of divas to worship, Tina Turner is like a hot-orange Callandria.
