Have You Seen My Marbles?

I moved this weekend and don't have internet at home yet. (Actually, I can't even find my modem yet, but whatever.) Forgive my silences. A few tidbits:

--I had something published on Jargon Chicago last week. "Deep Dish Games." Ever wonder what the Olympics would be like if we turned them into full-on Chicago experiences? It would be Chicago-tastic.

--Chicago Improv Festival week wrapped up last night. K-Rock and I are very tired. I have not performed any stand up in the past two weeks. Naughty comedian!

--My friend Emily's little brother is running what sounds like a pretty cool art gallery here in Chicago these days, which is astonishing, since in my mind, Rowley is still about eleven years old. Here's a NewCity Chicago article about that.

--Have I ever mentioned Emily before? I don't think I have, although I certainly need to now. Emily Kennerk and I have been really close friends since we were about eleven or twelve, when we met on the swim team and enjoyed occasional pony-related forays through the farms on the edge of town. We suffered through middle school dances and high school speech class together, and commiserated on the unique challenges of being one of five or six kids. We both moved from our impossibly quaint little hometown to Chicago at the same time, to pursue our creative ambitions. We've been forgoing regular dental care and living a starving artist lifestyle, with its attendant worries, fears, and uncertainties for quite some time now. And I'm happy to say that may be coming to an end.

Emily is an amazing artist who won a nice grant in 2005, the same year some of her drawings were exhibited at the Indianapolis Museum of Contemporary Art. Oh, and she just beat out Anish Kapoor, the "Cloud Gate" guy, for a project that will permanently put her public art project, Marbles, on display in a very cool new art space being carved out in downtown Indianapolis. Yeah, I'll say it again, Emily beat the guy who designed one of Chicago's most recognizable landmarks. Her Marbles project is “…a new landmark and a monument to the fun and eclectic nature of the growing Mass Ave cultural district,” according to Mindy Taylor Ross, Coordinator of the Cultural Trail’s public art programming and Director of Public Art for the Arts Council of Indianapolis.

She is also opening a major exhibit at the Indianapolis Museum of Art on July 13, and I hope to catch a ride home with her to see her work, which is called "Suburban Nation" and, according to the IMA site, "...will include a series of four installations influenced by the American surburban landscape: High Density, Untitled: Porches, and Welcome Home will be installed in the Forefront galleries...The fourth installation, Boundaries, will be created on the museum's front lawn. An evocative earth work, the project will use traditional lawn striping techniques to reiterate the patterns of subdivision plots."

Cutting-and-Pasting an Awesome Love of Lauren Bacall

A minor gripe as I'm putting together spreadsheets of various businesses: Please, business people, don't let your graphic and/or web designer talk you into putting your business address and phone number in a graphic and not also in plain text that can easily be cut and pasted. People want to google map you, or cut and paste your phone number into their Palm Treo so they can call you and make an appointment. Make it easy for people to use your contact information.

Related note to self: while making calls to writing clients, cut the word "awesome" out of business vocabulary. I'm not saying I'm going to go all the way over to "splendid," but "awesome" is too 1986 to afford me much credibility as a writer. Also, stop signing e-mails "LYLAS." (Just kidding on that last one.)

Via Reuters, from Britain, a headline that offers hope to the lonely and text-inclined: Dreamed up phone number leads man to a bride.

"David Brown, 24, says he woke up one morning after a night out with friends with a telephone number constantly running through his head. He decided to contact it, sending a message saying 'Did I meet you last night?.' Random recipient Michelle Kitson was confused and wary at first but decided to reply and the two began exchanging messages. Eventually they met and fell in love."

And, in keeping with the totally random nature of this post, a rarely seen clip of a 1970's Lauren Bacall singing "But Alive," set in a gay bar in Greenwich Village. It's hard for people of my generation to see Lauren Bacall in anything and not expect her, at any moment, to break into a description of the delicious moistness of Fancy Feast cat food. At any rate, this clip, see once on tv and lost to the ages until being recently posted on YouTube, is mesmerizing.

Olympic Fever, and More Bad Dogs

There is Olympic confetti rolled up in the cuffs of my jeans right now. At noon today at Daley Plaza my brother Andrew directed a really exciting "aren't we awesome" Chicago 2016 Civic Celebration.

I shook Mayor Daley's hand and was front row to see our future President himself, Barack Obama. I can't believe I finally saw Obama in person. I just kept staring at him like he was a rock star. He made a joke about being able to walk to one of the venues from his house here, since, as he said, "I should be back from Washington by then." People started screaming and clapping - I can't believe how much I geeked out. And I'm so proud of my brother! Check out the Obama clip here.

And, yeah, I got up at Bad Dog again last night. Clip forthcoming. (I hope to cut down the turnaround time on these things, but I really need my own video camera for this, so it might be a little while.) This time was tougher. I hadn't packed the audience with friends and family, I was trying out new jokes, and the vibe in the room was very different with a different host, a crowd of mostly other comedians, and an 11:15 start time. But it was cool. More on that later.

Edit: I stuffed some Olympic confetti in my purse to do something arty with it - or just laminate it against a piece of white paper. Not all that creative. But pretty!

Chicken No More

I did it! Woo!! My stage fright is GONE. Here's the proof.

Thanks again to Brett Snodgrass, the winning bidder of my eBay stage fright auction, who also served as cabbie and cinematographer. (That wasn't actually part of the deal, that was sort of above and beyond the call of eBay - thanks, Brett!) It was nice to have an art director help me figure out the "releasing the stage fright into the universe" thing. We had a cool little private ritual out in the open parking lot behind Bad Dog involving flames, heavily metaphorical objects, and maybe a little pinch of fervently creative magical thinking.

Anyway - here it is, the "put up or shut up" moment:



Yes, I was insanely nervous. Looking at the tape, I can't believe how relaxed and comfortable I seem. So I'd never spoken into a mic before. Whatever. When I stepped offstage, a local producer invited me to perform at a new faces showcase, which I will, after as many open mics as possible. Also, I got a really sweet comment on my blog from the girl who went up after me, also for the first time. I tried to google her, but to no avail. E-mail me, other open mic girl!

I'm going back again on Sunday with probably entirely different jokes. I still like some of the stuff I did last week but some of it is sort of boring to me now, and I've had a ton of new ideas over the past week. Plus, while I like some of the more storytelling-ish ones, they take some time to build, and for the sake of my own nerves, I'd like to get to a bunch right off the bat that have a quicker payoff.

I was on the phone with my mom shortly before the show, and she asked for a word count on the dirty language I planned on using, because, of course, nice boys won't be attracted to me if I use naughty words. (And really, after my show at Second City, you'd think she'd be desensitized to this kind of thing.) I told her I only planned on using one - of course, I was bringing it out of my grandma's mouth in the joke, and it was "bitch." But at the last second, the final joke I had written to include Brett's name (as part of the auction) seemed really clunky and slow, so on the spot I changed the end...and I used the word "ass." Sorry, Mom. I'll do better next time.

Cough, Cough, Cough

My bedside table is sticky with cough syrup. I have a headache from coughing so hard.

I'm still sick, after a week and a half. Actually have gotten sicker since going to the doctor the first time. On my second round of antibiotics.

I might, as of this morning, actually be feeling better. My enthusiasm after recent events has not been dampened. Eat some chicken noodle soup and think of me. I'll be back soon!

I Did It

Last night. Bad Dog. Slightly less than five minutes. No tomatoes or pineapples were injured in the filming of my stand-up debut. I didn't know how to talk into the mic (holy dumb!). I didn't puke. I didn't blank. There was laughter. But I have a lot of bugs to work out.

Guess that energy transfer worked!

More details (and the auction-mandated video clip) soon.

Public Jerkery, I Mean, My Stand-Up Debut

I have a raging sinus infection. My throat hurts and I'm half-deaf from all the fluid buildup in my ears. My deep fried nerves keep waking me up at 5:30 every morning. I've written and re-written and rehearsed and timed my material so many times I'm totally immune to whatever might actually still be funny.

Nevertheless - tonight. 9:30. Bad Dog Tavern. My first stand-up performance. Friends, drinks, laughs, cameras.

Be there for this once in a lifetime event! Well, or watch it here on a videoclip later. Whatever. It's cold outside. I wouldn't want to go out if I were you either.

RDA of Cute

I know, you're used to content and substance here. What can I say, I'm sick. So please indulge me while I post nothing but cute. (My brothers can skip this entry, since they're generally uninterested in this sort of thing.)

First, the cutest zoo animal clip I've seen lately. Floating otters holding hands? I can feel my cold symptoms melting away! Might want to turn down the volume, though, the spectators' "awww" noises might be a bit much for the testosterone-impaired:



And finally, my cat Calpurnia, in a recently rediscovered video I had forgotten about. It's one full minute of her playing in fresh laundry. Don't say I didn't warn you:

Be Happy For This Moment. This Moment Is Your Life.

Another early videoblogging effort, this one from June 3-4 2006. Again, substandard equipment, but some cool timing with some of the imagery and music. Watching it now after having not seen it for awhile, the music reminds me of how much I was struggling emotionally at that time, and the imagery makes me think of how glorious Chicago is in the summer. Always a mixed bag.

Cornfields, Cheese, and Golf Courses? Is Indiana Heaven Itself?

I'm stuck inside, sick and cranky, trying to at least do something productive. I backed up my hard drive and found some old videos I thought I'd lost. I'm slapping them up on my YouTube account and treating you all to an encore presentation.

First up: Sloan and I go to Indiana for my niece's high school graduation. I think it looks pretty cool for something I shot with a six year old digital camera that takes 30 seconds of low-quality video at a time, and edited with Windows Movie Maker.

The Gratitude Post

Let's call this the "I love my family and friends, and not just because I'm sick" post. (Also, let's call it the longest blog post in the history of time and space. Feel free to simply scroll down, scanning for your own name.)

How sick? "Coughing until I see stars, bedclothes in the laundry because I'm having trouble keeping Pedialite down" sick. Ugh! I'll spare you more details, because that's not the point. The point is, I'm feeling puny, and anxious about my upcoming stand-up debut (and everything else in life), but still okay, because I have such a great network of support around me.

Last night I called my brother feebly begging for a quick pit stop at my building on his way home from work. "Could you maybe bring me some soup, and juice, and kleenex?" He showed up an hour later with five kinds of soup, a gallon of juice, two bottles of Powerade, Pedialite, dried mangoes (which he knows I love), carrot cake (without raisins, which he knows I don't love), a little chocolate Kinder egg, tea, tons of remedies, and several more things I'm probably forgetting. Is that above and beyond the call of duty, or what?

And now, under the influence of DayQuil (I'm a lightweight) a schmoopy tally of some of my family and friends, and the generous and supportive things they've done for me lately:

Sloan, and her non-stop creative flow. She helps me realize and pursue things that would languish in my head and never become reality. She keeps me honest with myself about what I want to do, and holds me to task when I'm retreating out of fear of the unknown.

The approximately twenty members of my family, who showed up in Chicago last weekend to see my show at Second City, and then celebrate for several days afterward. Even my 95-year old great aunt, who sat front row center for all of the dirty jokes, just dipped her little head and giggled when things got racy.

Brett, who bought my stage fright and is helping me think through exactly what the hell I think I'm doing with all of this comedy and writing stuff. Him taking this ridiculousness seriously has made me take it seriously.

Mark, Northwestern's New Media guru and my comedy godfather, who was the first one to push me toward Second City, where he thrived years ago. He is unwavering in his encouragement.

Sharon, my best friend since middle school, the girl who knew me when I was just the awkward dorky girl getting kicked out of Mrs. Goffinett's English class for making everyone laugh, well before any of today's comedy stuff was anything more than a flickering spark in some dark recess of my heart. She's thousands of miles away working for Save the Children in Malawi, Africa, but has been as indispensable a support as friends who live a block away.

Ruth, one of those amazing people that fate pushes into your path at the perfect moment for both of you. She's starting a new life as a writer here in Chicago, too, and has believed in me enough to take me on as a writing partner with her new company. She's also warm and funny and lots of fun.

Karen, a beloved neighbor and friend, who has held my hand through all manner of difficult personal evolution, and who sent me this after seeing my show: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." (Anais Nin)

K-Rock, my sister from another mutha, and possibly the most photogenic person in the universe. Somehow her adorableness is multiplied through the lens of any camera. The internet is a strange and wonderful place, and the way we met is proof of that. I guess I should throw my other Apiary/Bastion siblings in here, because they're pretty great, too. Hear that, Nate and Keith?

Nancy, who has steadied me through lots of self-doubt despite my very spotty attendance at her wonderful writing group, which includes the delightful Nudle. (The writing group folks were the first people who I tested the stage fright auction idea on, and they didn't kick me out or suggest anti-psychotics, for which I will be eternally grateful.)

A variety of blog friends, who have been cheerleading my various creative efforts from afar. They include (but are not limited to) Coaster Punchman, Dale, Chancelucky, and Fizzle and Pop, who unexpectedly beat me to the punch and did stand-up himself last week.

Gotta give props to a wide assortment of comedian friends, who have been encouraging of my long-delayed desire to do stand-up, and have offered to do everything from showing up at my first performance to talking me through jitters on the phone at any hour of the night and day.

Last but not least, I'd like to mention Brandi, another internet/comedy blog friend, who became a real-life friend when she moved to Chicago after a series of e-mails with me and K-Rock. Unbelievably talented and sweet, Brandi almost literally held my hand while I was listing my stage fright on eBay. Without her, I may easily have gotten frustrated with the technology, lost faith in my project, and given up.

I mention Brandi last because I want to give her a special plug. Go here to listen to a couple of her beautiful little musical nuggets. Her song "The Dinosaur" was made internet famous by Said the Gramophone, who was enchanted and speculated that The Gongs (Brandi) must be "three linguistics majors and a physics major."

Her song "I Didn't Try" may be the most beautiful and poignant song I've ever heard, and has become very meaningful to me in many ways. The sadness in that song is bearable only because it was followed up with "Gotta Take Care," which is the "Brandi found her courage and moved to Chicago after all" song. The best line: "I need to be scared sometimes to get anything done."

In summation, I'd like to make the less than original observation that nothing in life that's meaningful and worth doing can be done alone. We need each other to move through life and strive for goals. All of these people (and more) have been helping me. I hope that I'm helping them, too.

For your viewing pleasure, a rockin' video for "The Dinosaur":



...and the baby version, which is even cuter:

Sloan's First Draft

Sloan has posted her first effort toward this parallel book project I mentioned. It's about her adventures in apartment living, take one. It's especially apt since right now she's apartment hunting for the first time in over five years. This time she's savvy enough to look at place after place before making a decision. The first time around? Not so much.

"...no, I would find the most pest infested, overpriced, code-violating pile of bricks within city limits. Well, to be honest, I didn’t set out with such lofty goals in mind, but had I known this was to be the plan all along, I could have saved myself a lot of runaround."

She called me from work yesterday to breathlessly tell me that, after sending out a blanket e-mail to family and friends announcing the first installment of the project, she managed to snag over 1300 visitors to her website. A rather amazing start to a project I'm excited to see take shape.

Also, last night, she gathered some accommodating friends from work, borrowed a friend's home, and shot her first horror short. She had read about twelve new books about film and technique before plotting this one out, including David Mamet's "On Directing Film," which gave her a ton of new ideas about montage and subtlety (not the tomato-throwing montage subtlety she's already mastered), so I'm thrilled to see how this one turns out.