My So-Called Theatrical Life

Patrick's post inspired this one... The theatre called my name fairly early. I remember going to see a musical at what would soon become my high school. I was in the 7th grade at the time, and the show being put on was "Dames at Sea." Up until then, I had never experienced a theatrical production such as this. I have always enjoyed singing. Some of my earliest memories are of my mom, setting a microphone in front of me, and telling me to sing the "Star Spangled Banner" or "Top of the World" by the Carpenters. I knew (almost) every word. I was 3 years old. (And I still have most of those tapes.) The singing bug continued all throughout my lifetime. I lived for music class. I loved to sing in Christmas recitals. And every chance I got, I would pop in The Carpenters or ABBA or Barry Manilow on the 8-Track player and sing along. I memorized words. Music became a major part of my life. (And my parents were surprised when I came out as gay. Really.) My sister started ballet lessons at 4, moving to tap at 5. One day my mom was helping her practice her steps. She asked her to do a shuffle step, but she couldn't remember how do it. I chimed in, "I know how!" And did the step. Next thing I knew, I was enrolled in tap lessons too. I was 7 years old. So now I'm singing and dancing my way to a career in the theater. Or something like that. I took tap from age 7 until age 12. By that time, puberty was setting in, and I grew like a weed. I was clumsy, and couldn't coordinate myself anymore. I gave up tap once and for all. Then, at age 13, the metabolism changed. Up until then, I was a skinny, bony kid with knobby knees. In the course of one year, I gained a ton of weight. I went from a size 30 pant to a size 36 pant in one year. And I have never been able to rebound from that since. Yet I still had aspirations of stardom. I could still sing-- and better than most of the kids in my class. So I took my singing talent to high school where I hoped to hit it big in the musicals there. "The Music Man" was the spring show in my freshman year of high school. I knew the show fairly well and auditioned for a part. And on my first try, I got a part as a member of the quartet. I worked hard-- harder than I had ever worked to sing those songs. And for the most part, they paid off. In hindsight, we were probably fairly awful, but for what we were, we did a great job. I had the bug. I wanted more. I wanted so badly to pursue theater. I was in all the musicals and shows and did everything I could to get on stage. The next year we did "Godspell" and I got a major solo-- my first. It became my signature song throughout the rest of my high school career-- "All Good Gifts." But after that, my star never shone so well. Unfortunately the director was a wimpass and let himself be pushed around by parents who had money, or by the choreographer, who he was dating. She told him to cast who she liked, so he did. And I think he hated himself for it, and we, in turn, hated him for it. We did "42nd Street" in my junior year. I auditioned hard for Julian Marsh, the fearsome director who insists that Peggy Sawyer fill in for the injured Dorothy Brock, because "You're going in there a youngster, but you gotta come back a star!" My auditions were kickass. And I sang the hell out of "Lullaby of Broadway" and "42nd Street," the two songs that the character sang in the show. I was perfect for the role. But I didn't get it. They gave it to a senior, who was a terrible actor and couldn't sing worth a shit. I got the part of Pat Denning, the suitor of the aging star Dorothy Brock, and a big-time wimp. I never got the lead. I was either too fat or too bad of a dancer or too bad of an actor. Excuses, of course. But I kept on trying. Senior year show was "Pippin." I could sing "Corner of the Sky" better than ANYONE. Again my auditions were great. But I lost again. This time to a junior, who was skinny, blonde and cute. And who couldn't sing worth shit. That killed my desire to pursue theater as a career. I got the idea of living my life with all that backstabbing and bullshit out of my head as fast as I could. There's no way I could deal with it. I'm glad I figured it out when I did. I doubt I would have lasted long. It would be years before I let myself audition for anything again. Today I have the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus and the Windy City Slickers. And with these, my "theater itch" is scratched just enough for me. Here, it's all about singing, which was the one thing I truly loved anyway. I don't have to starve because of it, and I don't have to rely on it to live my life. I can just sit back and be in the chorus, or I can try for the spotlight. But best of all, I can just have fun doing it. Whether or not I get "The Big Solo", in the end, it's just about making music. Of course, there are moments of drama, just like any other theatrical-based company. But nothing like what I experienced in high school. I'm happy here. It's a good place for me to be. But sometimes I still wonder what would have happened...

All work and no play

This week was a killer. I gotta tell you. I survived though. We had five proposals going on at the same time. That's a lot, folks. Every manager was scurrying around as if they had matches stuck up their asses. It was as revolting as it was humorous. And frustrating. I think I put in about 17 hours of overtime this week. That, too, is a lot. At least I get paid for it!! In addition, I had three big projects that I have been working on at home that had to get to the next stage. So when I got home from work, I went right back to the computer and continued to work. Of course, those projects are all pro bono (no pay), but they still had to get done. So you can see why I haven't posted in a while. I've been a busy boy!! On Friday I had lunch with a new chorus boy. Very cute, very nice, but very much on the rebound after an awful breakup. So, while we had a lot in common and I'd melt into a pool of goo if he asked me to date him, I am not expecting any miracles. Friends it is. I can deal with that. Saturday I auditioned for a solo in the CGMC show, "In The Mood." Not sure how that will go, but I think I did pretty good. I'm really excited about this show. It's all great music from the 30's thru the early 50's in the style of such legends as Glenn Miller, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. My kinda stuff. Patrick Sinozich, our director, has arranged all the pieces, and they are, as always, amazing. Add in lots of "Choralography" and tons of dancing, and it's going to be a heck of a show. I'm trying to get my mom, sister and brother in law (I have never called him that before) to see the show. I hope they can make it. OH and if you should happen to visit CGMC's website, they now have an online store where you can order both of our CD's! Just click on the banner and it'll bring you right to it. (Hint... I have solos on BOTH of them! Our new CD, "I Will Be Loved Tonight," is perfect for Valentine's Day (whether you love it or hate it), So buy copies... many copies!! ;) While you're at it with the online ordering, if you are a big fan of nuts (and who isn't?), you need to check this site out. Pua, The High Priestess herself, was promoting her newly found sister Lokelani's Kanake Nuts on her blog the other day, so I decided to try some. Tres YUMMY! So stop by and order a bag for yourself. You'll be glad you did. Mahalo. :)

Johnny Carson: The Family Parallel

I don't know of one person who wasn't saddened by the recent passing of Johnny Carson. Myself included. I loved the guy. Didn't know him at all, of course, but I felt like I did. That's the kind of person he was. He always seemed much younger than his years let on. He was the grandpa I never had-- the one who told funny stories and laughed in spite of himself. And he was always there (except on the nights when Joan Rivers or Jay Leno was there; then he was probably playing golf.) But still, he was a wonderful sight to see every weeknight. A lot of interesting things have come out about Johnny Carson since, or just before, his passing. One of which was the fact that, over the course of the last ten years, he has been ghost-writing jokes for David Letterman. I thought that was somewhat cool... after all, after the big fight over Johnny's spot went in Jay Leno's favor, this was maybe somewhat of a way for Johnny to repay Letterman. In any case, both of them worshipped the guy and owe their careers to him. The second was the fact that Johnny Carson died of Emphysema. It was no big secret that Johnny smoked. In early shows, he smoked right on the air. Everyone did. It was the "cool" thing to do. "Sophisticated." It made him look more powerful; more debonair. This particularly hits home for me, because as I have mentioned previously, my mother also suffers from Emphysema. It's a horrible disease. It literally robs you of the ability to breathe. You simply are not able to produce a large enough breath in order to put oxygen into your bloodstream. The disease is an excruciatingly slow killer. Imagine strangling someone. Oh come on, you know you have imagined it once or twice. But seriously, visualize this. Your hands are wrapped around a person's neck and you squeeze, cutting of the air. Emphysema does exactly that, only it doesn't do it in just a few seconds. It literally shuts down the body's ability to breathe and produce oxygen, bit by painful bit. My mom has been suffering the effects of Emphysema for the last 10 years. When she was diagnosed, she only had to use concentrated oxygen for part of the day. Now she needs it 24/7. If she didn't have her positive outlook, I don't know how she could have made it through those ten years. Thankfully, Mom stopped smoking years prior to this happening. Many people don't. In fact, some people continue smoking while breathing in the oxygen. The point of all this is simple. Smoking kills. If you are smoking, please consider quitting. If you are quitting, keep it up. You will do yourself so much good by never picking it up again. I don't know how anyone could even start. And if you find you are having trouble breathing, or if you notice you are getting tired faster and faster as time goes on, please have a pulmonary function test done. The quicker you diagnose yourself for pulmonary disease, the better. Apparently, Johnny Carson didn't find out about his Emphysema until fairly recently. An earlier diagnosis could have saved him, if not for a long time, for at least a few years more. It's sad that he had to die, but hopefully some poeple out there will hear his story and realize that they, too, could end up the same way. It just scares me to think that my mom will have to go through what he went through someday.

Things that make me go AAAAAUURRRRGGHHH!

10. People who put cracked-up milk crates and plastic chairs in parking spots because they feel that since they cleaned out the spot, it's theirs. 9. All the internet security on my computer sometimes causes my Email to hang while sending. I have stuff in my outbox that just isn't going anywhere. 8. Pouring milk in a bowl of cereal and noticing, just before taking a bite, that it has gone sour. 7. Forgetting for the third week in a row to set my VCR to record "Desperate Housewives.' 6. Meeting a cute... no... HOT new Chorus member and having him tell me that he just got out of a 10 year relationship and is "still a bit fragile." 5. My hair, which is seriously out of control and cannot be tamed at all. I must get a haircut soon. (Yes, Jake, by a REAL stylist.) 4. Having two concurrent design projects to work on that are due by Thursday... OUTSIDE of my real job. 3. Knowing that I'm not getting paid for either of those jobs because I did them pro bono. 2. My bank account, which is seriously depleted until, oh, February 7th. 1. The fact that it's almost 4 in the morning and I am typing this post. Oh well, that's what I get for being a blog addict. ;-)

Inspiration amidst the snowflakes

After I got out to move my car yesterday morning, I settled down with some coffee and readied myself to enjoy a day of doing absolutely nothing. Well.. almost nothing. I had a project I had to get some work done on for one of my Chorus friends who works for one of Chicago's AIDS service organizations. I'm designing the poster for the Chicago Ride for AIDS, which is sponsored by TPAN, which stands for Test Positive Aware Network. My friend is one of the directors of TPAN and asked me if I'd be interested in designing a poster for the Ride. I wouldn't be paid, but the chance to do something for the organization, not to mention the exposure, was something I couldn't pass up. So what a perfect day to work on it! After a few good hours of work, my friend Ricardo called. He was a few blocks away and wanted to grab some lunch. I was hungry so I agreed, and he stopped by before we headed out. We made our way to Argyle street, which is also known as "Little Vietnam." Over the last 30 years or so, many Vietnamese, Cambodian and other Southern Asian people have settled in this area. The shops along Argyle street reflect this in their wares, their food, and their character. Even the Argyle El stop sports a large red "Pagoda" to reflect this area's culture. For years, this area had been pretty shady. It isn't a reflection on the Vietnamese at all, it's just a factor of the change in the area from decade to decade. Many of the storefronts have gates in front of them, and some even have full metal garage doors. When I moved to Chicago 8 years ago, you were afraid to walk along the street at night. Now it isn't quite so bad. The area has changed again. Many new residents have moved in, and the area is on an upswing. Thankfully, this isn't driving out the Asian people. They have made a home for themselves here and the area would be greatly lacking if they were suddenly forced out. So Ricardo and I decided to visit a Vietnamese restaurant that he had been to a while ago, saying that the food was excellent. We trudged out into the snow and began our journey. The wind was starting pick up by now, and the lake effect snow off of Lake Michigan was starting to really kick in. But we kept on going. The restaurant was warm and charming; one of the larger ones in the area. I had never been there before, but the food was, indeed, excellent. I had some Wonton soup and Kung Pao Chicken, which was stir-fried instead of deep-fried. Spicy and tasty. After lunch, we decided to walk along the street to look for a gag gift for our friend Jeremy, who was celebrating his birthday that night at Crew. We were also looking for something nice, but there's always some fun treasures to be found at these merchant stores, so it's fun to stop in and take a look. Besides, the snow was getting worse. We stopped in at a store a couple doors down from the restaurant. We started browsing the toys, the fuzzy slippers, the tacky hats and the exquisite scarves. We were greeted by a kindly older lady who asked if we needed any help, and we said no, we were just browsing. As we snaked through the store, we made our way to the glass counter. "Oh my, look at all the jade pieces," Ricardo said. "Oh yes," the lady said in her thick accent. "Jade is very healing. It can protect you from danger and evil." "Yes," Ricardo replied, "I have heard that about it." "In fact," she continued, "This pendant saved my life." She pulled out from behind her collar a small Buddha-shaped pendant in deep green jade. "It's a Buddha," Ricardo and I commented when we saw the pendant. "It's the mother of Buddha," she corrected us. "She saved my life one day. I would tell you the story, but you probably would not believe me." Being that we had nowhere else to be, and we were both intrigued by her story, we encouraged her to tell us. So she did. "When I was in Cambodia," she began, "and the killing was happening, I was with my children... I had seven children, and one baby. The guards were coming through the neighborhoods and killing. I was so scared. People were running so fast and the crowds were so big. I tried to keep my children together. I held on to them as I ran. And we ran so fast and so hard to get away. And then, I lost one of my children. I couldn't find him. And I prayed. I prayed to her. (the mother of Buddha) to help me find him. I prayed and prayed and prayed." "I stopped running and prayed. And I looked for my child. And the crowds ran past me and then they were gone. And as I prayed, I noticed the guards. They did not see me! I was standing right there, but they did not see me. They had their guns and they were ready to shoot. But I was not shot. And I kept praying that I find my child. And then I found him. And I grabbed his hand and I ran and kept on running. And the guards, they never saw me." "This was in 1975. The movie "The Killing Fields" was just a small portion of what really happened. I lived through it. I saw the bodies. I saw the killing. And the way they would kill people. "The people were starving, so they would put sacks of rice out in the streets. And the people were so hungry, they would run to the sacks of rice and pick them up. But they were booby-trapped... mined. The people would die in the streets and the bodies would stay there for days... weeks. Nothing was safe. Nobody was to be trusted. People starved to death all the time because you couldn't trust anyone. One of my babies died because I couldn't get enough food." "After I escaped the guards, I continued on the run until I reached Thailand. I went to the American embassy and got in contact with my sister, who had moved to America already. She arranged to have me and my family moved with her. I have lived in America ever since. And I have been grateful for my life, for my family and for my health. And I have learned in life that one must never, ever remember the past. The past is gone. It is dead. You must look to today and to the future and do good things for people. There is no place for evil." She then took out a book of pictures. Since I came back here, I have no money. I don't want it. The money I make from my store, I give back. I give back to the people of Cambodia who are still rebuilding. They need food and schools. I help them build schools and feed the hungry people. I have gone back four times since I left. I help the sick, I feed the babies, and I care for the elderly." Picture after picture showed the lady in front of us helping to build schools, feeding hungry children and meeting with dignitaries. She was dressed beautifully in some pictures and simply in others. The smiles on the faces of the children were unforgettable. To them, she was like royalty. "So many people have nothing. They live in poverty. Yet they are happy because they are no longer at war. But there is so much that needs to be done, so much rebuilding to do. And whatever I can do, I do." Ricardo and I were in awe at the story being told to us. We had no idea that we would meet such a remarkable person in such a simple little store. This lady survived the "Killing Fields." She survived war, starvation, and even the death of one of her children because she was too poor to feed them all. She made a life for herself of giving back to those who were less fortunate. It was almost too much to bear, but you couldn't help but be moved by her story. "All of my surviving children are happy, they are healthy, and they are educated. They have good jobs, good homes, and good lives. That is the best thing I could have done for them. I don't need money. I just need to give to charity and help other people. This is what I live for." The lady in the store said to us. We never got her name. We didn't even buy anything that day. But on that cold, snowy afternoon, our hearts were warmed and our minds opened by a lady who had lived a far greater life than either of us could ever aspire to. As we made our way out of the store and back into the blizzard, we knew that in a small but special way, we had been blessed by this lady and her story. And it made the day seem just a little bit brighter and warmer because of it.

Blizzard Pictures

This is my first attempt at an image map. Hope it works!

I love the winter weather

I really do. But this is ridiculous! It started snowing tonight at probably around 6-7 PM. By 2:00 AM we must have close to a foot of snow out there. And it's not done yet. We're sure to get a good half of a foot more tomorrow, at the very least. Why can't this happen during the week!?!? DAMMITALL! It's really pretty out there. I am definitely going to drag the camera out and snap some snowy scenes (don't you just love unintentional alliteration?) and post them here. I promise! It's been a while since I've posted any pics here lately anyway. Thank goodness I went grocery shopping the other day. And thank goodness I also made 8 quarts of turkey noodle soup this week. That's right folks.. 8 quarts of soup. Of course about 4 quarts of that soup has already been consumed, but there's plenty of leftovers to enjoy while the snow piles up to my third-floor windows. And yes, that soup was homemade. As in I took the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving that my mom had frozen and made my own stock. And I added a couple turkey legs as well. Added my own spices. Chopped my own veggies. And yes, it's pretty friggin' good. :) Don't you wish you had some right now? I keep telling people, I would make an amazing husband. :)

It's about time!!!

After thirty years... Illinois has finally added "Sexual Orientation" to its anti-discrimination laws. Today, Governor Rod Blagojevich ended thirty years with the stroke of his pen. He signed the bill that added "Sexual Orientation" to the state of Illinois' discrimination law-- a law that already protected people for their race and religious beliefs, among other things. It's hard to fathom that when they started fighting this cause, I was a mere 3-4 years old. Thirty years. How many people have died fighting for this cause? How many people have put in hours and hours of tireless work and effort to make this happen? The number is probably not that staggering, but think back to thirty years ago. When the most basic of rights were being denied to those of us who, today, enjoy every opportunity that our straight neighbors, co-workers, and even family members enjoy. The right to a job. The right to a home. The right to be served food. The right to buy something at a store. The right to walk down the street. The right to adopt a child. The right to express yourself and be yourself in public. Things were much different thirty years ago. And not just in the rural areas, but even the urban areas, where these rights have been enjoyed for many years-- certainly the seven years that I have lived here. Those of us who are enjoying these rights today have those people to thank. Some have gone from this world already, but many remain. Take a moment to thank the politicians, the activists, the friends that you know, who have put their blood, sweat and tears into making this happen. I am attending the Equality Illinois Gala event on February 5th. Equality Illinois has, for years, been fighting this fight for gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendereds throughout the state of Illinois for many years. The event is usually a sober experience, with lots of rousing speeches and supportive words from politicians who would vow to make sure that this bill is passed. This year, however, I suspect that there will be an air of joviality. Celebration. Joy. Hope. There certainly is a lot more work to be done, given the administration that our country is (still) dealing with. But folks, there is hope. We will perservere. We will win. With patience, we will win.

Read this blog!

Another fellow Chorus boy (and a sexy one at that) has started his own blog. I direct your attention now to My Week Spot, authored by my friend Steve. Welcome to the Blogosphere, Steve! :)

The Shaggy Rckt

You know how your hair reaches that point where it's grown out so long that you just can't do anything with it? No amount of product; no time spent fluffing, primping or prodding at it, can make it do what you want. That's where my hair is right now. It doesn't look bad or anything. It just isn't cooperating. "So get a haircut," you say. Well yes, I intend to. And that's just the deal. See, I've been cutting my own hair for, oh, the last 3 years. I'll give you a moment to catch your breath. Laughing will do that to people sometimes. Seriously. I have been cutting my own hair. Not long after my ex defected to California, I found myself in a endless stream of friends and loved ones making their way to CA-- my hairdresser was the next one to follow. After he moved, I tried a few new people but just couldn't get comfortable with them. So I tried doing it myself. The results were-- shall we say-- awkward at best. I had an electric beard trimmer (from when I used to grow a goatee) and used that. It took FOR. EV. ER. So I splurged and bought myself a set of semi-professional clippers. It took some getting used to them. They were heavier and had a long obnoxious cord that got in the way of everything. And doing the back took a LOT of practice. But eventually I got pretty good. One day I dropped the clipper while using it and shattered my #5 guard. So I got used to cutting my hair on #6 instead. I have to say, I think I fooled people pretty well. Nobody ever said "Who cut your hair" as if to say "Oh my GOD, what HAPPENED to you?" Or at least if they did, they disguised their voice well enough that I couldn't pick up on it. In any case, I'm done. It's time to start going to someone again. I just don't know where I'm going to go. I don't believe in paying $50 for a haircut, especially when there really isn't that much there to begin with. But I'll do what I have to do, I guess. I'll show before & after pics when I get a moment. We'll see how it goes.

Six Month Review

It's been six months since I started this blog. It's time for a review of the effect it's had on my life, and what I want it to become in the future. No, this isn't something that was brought upon by an event that recently occured in my life, or after some sort of long, soul-searching, introspective look at myself. It's just something I've thought about lately. Well, that and I just haven't really posted anything lately. :) When I started this blog, my first intention was to revisit the journal that I kept when I first moved to Chicago from 1997-1998. The basic format of that journal was a recount of each day's activities, good or bad, and the people I came across on a daily basis. This time around, I wasn't quite sure how much of myself I would share, because there's always a tendency with these sorts of things to share too much. And I wasn't sure what "too much" was yet. I still don't. Saying that, I'm not even quite sure what "just enough" is. The next thing I needed to figure out was who I was writing this information for. Was it for me, so I could look back and recount everything that happened in my life? Or was it for others, to be entertained by my foibles, trials and tribulations? The answer to that question evolved to become twofold. 99.9% of what I write is because of what I am feeling at any given time about any given situation. I could write about a bad day I'd had at work. I could gush about a wonderful occurrence in my life. I could share a story about something that touched my life in a special way. Or I could just ramble on about whatever was crossing my mind at that particular moment in time. In turn, these things could be shared with you, who reads it and, hopefully, you can come away with either a better understanding of who I am, or maybe, possibly, a better understanding of yourself. So therefore, I write for myself first, and you get the residuals. I think that's a fair trade. But sometimes it's hard. It's hard to share everything about myself that I'd like to. Do I censor myself? Yes. Absolutely. There are things that I just can't bring myself to share with the world. I've seen people get hurt by sharing too much. Do I wish that were different? Sometimes, yes. I think that if I opened up a bit more, I'd connect with more people. But for now, I protect myself and others by staying the course and not getting to far into my own self. That's not so say that I won't change my mind about that in the future. I may wake up one day and say "Damn it, I've been a fool!" and spew forth all the things I've been bottling up inside. But for now, let's just say "what you see is what you get" and leave it at that. The incredible thing that happened as a result of starting this blog was the cadre of wonderful people that I met along the way. Up until now, you've been voices on the phone or words on my screen, but the personalities behind the voices and words are some of the most beautiful and wonderful I have come across in many a year. I'm looking forward to meeting as many of you in the flesh as possible in the upcoming year, and making even more friends along the way. Finally, I invite... welcome... encourage... ok.. DEMAND comments! Hello folks, I'm a GAY MAN. I have an EGO and it needs STROKING. (Yes, I said stroking. Comment away.) Feedback is essential to what I put up here. Do I share too much? Do I share too little? Do you hate my writing? Do you think I'm ugly? Do you think I'm sexy? Cause if you want my body and you think I'm sexy, COME ON SUGAR, LET ME KNOW! (Sorry, I don't wear gold lame' pants, so don't ask.) Where do I see all of this going in the future? Well first of all, I want a redesign. I need a new look. The thing is, I want to do it. I just don't know how. I have an idea of what I want it to look like, and can create the layout in Photoshop or Illustrator, but I am just not good at executing the final result. So... if you are a talented blog designer and would like to make my idea into a reality, we need to talk. :) Then, I plan on transfering the whole doggone thing to www.rcktman.com once and for all. Will I ever be a major blog success? Will I win awards or even be nominated? Honestly... I don't care. I'm not looking for glory. I just want a place where I can express myself and share myself with people who care. If glory happens, COOL. If not, So be it. So... that ends the six month review. I hope you like what you're getting so far. I hope to share more in the future. We shall see what the next six months bring.

Haiku for you

Snowy winter day Yesterday was really warm Today my ass froze Busy day at work Everyone was running round Like headless chickens Barely kept awake Changes in weather have made My health unstable End of day arrived Bolted out the door so fast It made one's head spin Went to a party Called The Big Gay Cocktail Club Lots of cute gay men Raised funds for TPAN A worthy cause, so I went. Hope to meet boys. Left empty handed No phone numbers or cute boys Hanging on my arm "No big deal" I said "Just like any other day No boys for Ricky" Haiku is easy Sure beats thinking of something More clever to say

I've joined the ranks

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog. Which of course, means that all of my old comments are lost in Blogger oblivion. But oh well. Time to upgrade. :) Now the next thing to do is to move everything to www.rcktman.com ... One thing at a time. :)

Reconnections

On the way home after work tonight, I played the usual Monday Night Game. Should I go out? Or shouldn't I? I work late on Monday nights (til 8PM), so the night is shot anyway. And Monday night is Showtune Night at Sidetrack, my favorite hangout in Chicago. More than likely, I'm bound to find at least a few chorus boys there. So the dilemma always presents itself. Should I go out, or shouldn't I? Well today I had driven in to work, because I had a doctor appointment in the morning. So on the way home, I told myself (as I often do when this situation presents itself) I will drive down Halsted Street from Belmont going north toward Sidetrack. If I find a parking place, I'll take it and go out. If I don't, I'll go home. Lo and behold, I found a parking spot, less than a block away from Sidetrack. Guess I'll be going out for a bit. It's about 9:30. Showtunes had started, but it was still way too early to be there. The place was pretty empty. So I checked my coat and decided to go across the street to Roscoe's. I generally never go to Roscoe's, but I knew there would be someone special there tonight. Monday is Amy and Freddy night. Now, those of you from Chicago know who I am talking about. Amy Armstrong and Freddy Allen. They've been entertainers in the Chicago area for the better part of the last 10 years or more. I befriended them a few years ago when she was performing at Gentry, a piano bar on Halsted Street. The story goes like this. I was there with the Chorus, after rehearsal, for one of our "alternate bar" nights. Gentry was hosting us and Amy and Freddy were performing. Amy was just finishing a weeklong stretch of shows, and was admittedly pretty tired. She said so. So she said "Alright, you chorus boys, get up here and sing some songs. I know you can do it, so do it." She's bossy like that. So a few of us obliged. Myself included. If I remember correctly, I sang "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and "Sittin' On The Dock of the Bay". In any case, I ended up doing two numbers. Amy cornered me and said "You have an amazing voice... have you ever thought about singing at Gentry or something like that?" I replied, "Yeah, but I never really gave it any thought, to be honest." Amy said "Come with me." She led me to the back of the bar, and introduced me to the owner of the bar, who just happened to be there that night. "This is Dave. Dave, this is Rick. And Rick should be singing here." Dave shook my hand and said "Nice to meet you" and all that... and asked me if I'd be interested. I said "Sure I would, I've always wanted to." When we were done with Dave, Amy pulled me aside and said "Here is Dave's number, and here is my number. You'd better do this!" Well how could I say no? Within a couple months, I had my first show at Gentry. Amy and I got together a couple of times before that and talked about shows and songs, and one day I went with her and her husband to the Chicago Public Library to find music. By the time we were done there, I had amassed a pretty large collection of music for my book. I became a regular at Amy's shows, and she would occasionally pull me up to do a song or two, saying that I was going to have a show of my own there soon. My first show was a Tuesday night. Tuesdays are open mike nights at Gentry, and I got the gentleman who plays on open mike nights to play for my show. My shows were always from 7:30 - 9:30. The late shows (which I never did) were from 9:30 - 1:00 AM. The first show was essentially a dry run of things. I had a list of songs I wanted to do, there were a few friends in the audience, and I tried out some banter with them. It was rough. VERY rough. But I got through it. And made a little money as well. The second show was on a Saturday night. I had Emailed the entire Chorus about it. And I knew a lot of people were coming. My sister and her (then) fiance were coming. This was the "big show." Freddy Allen played for me that night. That helped my nerves a bit, since I'd sang with him before and I felt comfortable with him there. The show was a ton of fun. I sang my heart out, bantered with the audience, and had a blast. I was on my way! As the next year rolled on, the shows would vary between a nearly empty bar to a fairly busy crowd. But never anything like the first night. I kept working on the show, trying to build something around the songs I'd picked and making things somewhat cohesive. But always trying to have fun. The problem I ran into was that I could never hold on to an accompanist. I think I went through five fairly regular accompanists and a couple real disasters in the course of a year. Just when I would be able to find a groove with someone, they would tell me that they couldn't do a month of shows, or that they just weren't interested in playing the bar anymore. Each month became a hunt for a new pianist. It became a chore rather than something that I enjoyed. And then in April of 2001, I started my current job. I knew that I wasn't going to have the time available anymore. So my brief career as a cabaret performer ended. I really enjoyed it though. I love to sing, and whether I get paid for it or not, I will always be able to find a way to do it. Someday I'd love to get back into that arena, but I'd probably do a few things differently... one of which would be to find someone to play for me before I go for it. But it was a dream that did come true for me. And I have Amy Armstrong to thank for that. Amy left Gentry to start performing at a new club called "Voltaire." It was a great idea, and had a great run of shows, but numerous issues led to the club's closing late in 2002. Amy and Freddy then moved on to do shows at various bars and clubs, and continued back on doing some touring, which she always loved to do. I'd seen her a time or two at her new Monday night show at Roscoe's, but it'd been a good year or so since the last time. So when I saw her today, she looked right at me and said "No WAY! Oh my GOD!" And gave me a huge hug. Oddly enough I had brought her up to someone at work today, and she said that she had just thought about me the other day as well. So somehow there was a reason why I showed up there that night. She gave me one of her new CD's. She insisted that I not pay for it, but I slipped an extra $10 in the tip jar anyway. The CD is fabulous. I love it. I listened to it on the way home tonight. It made me feel, once again, the reasons why I loved singing so much. So this is my little paen to Amy. Amy the diva. Amy my mentor. Amy my friend. Thanks.

Damn I'm horny

I've been reading and commenting on blogs for the last hour or so. I have a week's worth to catch up on. I've noticed that all my comments are strangely sexual in nature. I'm so horny I am ready to explode. And for a top that's not a good thing. Or it is a good thing, depending on what you're into. I need to get laid. Badly. Or Goodly. I don't care. Ack!

It's been so long!

I'm still alive!! :) I just guess it was one of those weeks where I didn't have much to say... or it was so boring that I didn't want to put you to sleep with every stinking detail of the week. Aren't I kind to you? Chorus rehearsals start up again today. The new show's name is "In the Mood" and will be based around jazz tunes from the 30's through the 50's. That's right up my alley (so to speak.) I love jazz music. So I'm interested to see what our director has up his sleeve. Last night I went to a lovely party hosted by two of our newest chorus members. The party was being held to celebrate Epiphany, which in my household was pretty much only celebrated as "The day you take the Christmas tree down." But their celebration was somewhat steeped in tradition, including one where everyone takes a flat sugar cookie and, at the same time, you bite into it or open it up to see if a whole almond was inside. If you got one of the almonds, you were crowned one of the three kings. Guess who got one of the almonds? ;-) I wish I had pictures. My lovely construction paper yellow crown was cute for about 45 minutes, and then I discreetly "lost" it. It was a fun evening. So anyway, tonight is the first rehearsal since December, and I'm a little bummed because A. I have gotten used to having my Sundays off, as most Chorus members do, and B. I'm going to miss Desperate Housewives, which I became a fan of over the Holiday when they re-ran the first episode. In typical style, I don't get hooked on a new TV show until mid-way through the season or, sometimes, midway through the show's run. I did find a really fun site that reviews shows in great detail (with a healthy dose of good old American snark) for those whose lives are like mine and never find themselves in front of the TV. It's called Television Without Pity. And let me tell you, the folks that write the reviews there should be writing their own shows. Especially the girl who writes about Desperate Housewives. Fun stuff. So it looks like I have to set the timer on my new VCR. Hopefully this week will be more post-y. I have to take my Christmas tree down now. Have a wonderful weekend. :)

Holy Shiz!

My friend Jeremy wrote today that he got tickets to Wicked when it comes to Chicago. He got enough for 10 of us... So on June 2, I'm going to see the Wizard! :) I've been reading the original book of Wicked for the last week or so. It's been an entertaining read. I hit the midway point yesterday. So I'll have finished it in good time before the show. I'm definitely the type of person that preferes to read the book before seeing the movie, or in this case, the stage adaptation. Some people do the reverse (and in a few cases I have as well, when it's something I have seen before I really started reading.) I enjoy reading a lot. It calms me and transports my brain to the time, place and story being told. I can't begin to understand how anyone could think that reading is "Boring." That's such a load of nonsense. Reading is entertaining and entertaining. Your brain is the projector. The images are created by the words that are written. It enhances your senses and stimulates the imagination. And who doesn't like to use their imagination? So that's the news of the day. I'm off to read for a bit.

Feel the love

I love a day off. There's just nothing better than sleeping as long as you want to, getting up when you want to, and doing what you want to. Sure, I haven't done much of anything constructive all day, but dammit, I deserve it. So New Year's Eve was fun. I looked mighty handsome in my tux. I would love to show you a picture, but there was a coat check as we entered the building (the party was at this guy's home and there was a coat check as you entered. How hoity is that?) and I left my camera in the pocket of my jacket. Of course I didn't realize this until 1/2 way through the party, and at the point I figured it was safe (which it really wasn't) and too much hassle to go and get it (which it was). So, no pictures. Sorry. But it was a really nice party. Most of all my friends were there, which I was thankful for. When the Evite was sent, I didn't see a lot of names that I recognized, and I was worried that 90% of the people there would be strangers. As the night progressed, I wasn't worried anymore. And the number of available single men pretty much equaled my friends. And that was about it. There were tons of couples and lots of straight folk too. Very minimal cruising/boyfriend hunting potential. Such is my luck. Oh well, at least, as I said before, I looked good. The food was fantastic. There was an incredible spread- Lamb, shrimp and crab claws were featured along with many dips and, of course, caviar, which I had never really had until that night. I liked it enough. It honestly didn't taste like much of anything. And of course, all the champagne and other alcoholic beverages you could possibly dream of. I always prefer a private affair over going to some ridiculously overpriced, crowded, and smoky bar, where everyone is plastered beyond comprehension and the music is so loud you can't hold a simple conversation anyway. And if you get two bites of the substandard food being served, you are lucky. New Year's Eve should be spent with friends. The friends you spent the year with. The ones you enjoyed trips to Saugatuck and Montreal with. The ones you have dinner with every so often, talk on the phone with often, share your frustrations and joys with, and your triumphs and sorrows. Friends make every holiday, event and occasion so much more special. And the laughter you share with them is unlike any in the world. It's the most special kind of laughter. It's the laughter that says "Damn, I love being with you guys." So to Jeremy, Arnie, Shawn and Brent; Rafael, Ricardo, Will, Matt, and Anne; Elle, Danny, Jake, and Pete; Trung, Jeffrey, Ray and David H., and to my Blogfriends, Aaron, Karen, Patrick, Pua and Toddy... Thank you for being friends. Your gifts are constantly being given, just by being in my life. Love to you all.