Archive for the ‘Words’ Category

The lovely folks behind Sunday Night Improv invited me back…

This Sunday night July 3rd at 7pm – Soter/Lee Blackbox Theatre – 236 W. 78th Street  RSVP – 212.353.7716  Tix are $10


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Episode 3…

My friend Larry has started filming some episodes of his story “Whose Life Is This Anyway?” and I am in episode 3 playing a real estate broker who is trying to get her hoarder friend Marc to empty his apartment so it can be sold.  We had not planned on filming the episode that day but everyone in the scene happened to be at Larry’s store so with some coaching from Larry we improvised this.  I hope you like it.

Episode 3

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Get thee to the Soter/Lee Black Box Theater at 236 W 78th Street (just off Broadway)
this Sunday night – May 1st at 7pm

Tickets are $10 – RSVP: 212.353.7716

more info at: www.sundaynightimprov.com

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I played a few songs this weekend at Freddy’s Bar in Park Slope at the annual Blowhole Theater show.

You sample a bit on youtube  here

This is a picture of me and my uke at the Vortex…. but you get the idea.

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Je suis un écureuil garcon.
Je ne porte pas un costume écureuil.
Je suis un écureuil.
Des gen pensent que je suis un jouet.
Je ne suis pas un jouet.
Je suis un garcon et j’aime une fille.
Elle est une tortue fille et elle est une jouete.
Elle ne m’aime pas.
Je suis beaucoup triste.

I am a squirrel boy.
I am not wearing a squirrel costume.
I am a squirrel.
People think I am a toy.
I am not a toy.
I am a boy and I love a girl.
She is a turtle girl and she is a toy.
She does not love me.
I am very sad.

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Je suis une tortue fille
Je suis jaune et rose
J’ai des joues rouges comme l’arbouse en fleurs
Je dis les choses fausses
Je suis gênée
Je suis sale
J’ai besoin de prendre un bain
J’ai besoin d’être aimée
Je ne sais pas comment

I am a turtle girl
I am yellow and pink
my cheeks are red as arbutus in bloom
I say the wrong things
I ‘m embarrassed
I am dirty
I need to take a bath
I need to be loved
I don’t know how

**thanks go to Doug for the grammar tips!

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Colleen -part 1

It’s a long story so just trust me when I say that I was introduced to my grandmother rather late in life.  She did not raise my mother and when I finally did spend time with her I was told that she was very private and instructed to not ask many questions.  My mom didn’t even know how old she was until she died.  Don’t get me wrong, I had some fantastic times with my grandmother.  She loved to ride in my convertible.  Years prior she had part of her lungs removed because of cancer but she almost every time I saw her she would ask me if I had any cigarettes and if so would I please smoke one for her.  I would light up and she would happily inhale my second-hand smoke.  I’ve never seen someone look so happy.  We had some fun adventures together.  She loved to play golf so we would walk her local 9-hole course.  The details are fuzzy now but I remember having a great day with her when we went to a taping of the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.   Mostly we would go out for a meal or just sit and talk at her backyard patio table.  She never talked about herself.  She just wanted to know what I was doing.  The more scandalous the story, the more she liked it.  I would tell her about ditching school but still managing to pull off excellent grades, staying out late and going to underground clubs in LA that opened in the wee hours.  She hung on every word I said, laughed at all my jokes and made me feel amazing.  She encouraged me to experience life and was thrilled when I told her that I was moving to New York City.

She passed away a few years ago.  I flew home to try to see her one last time but missed her by a couple of days.  My mom and I went to her house and for the first time I poked around.  I looked through boxes and rifled through drawers looking for something uniquely Colleen to take back with me. I found a photo album and when I opened it this was the first thing I saw:

WTF?  I had so many questions I wanted to ask her.  As I turned the pages, I found the most amazing photos of her in exotic locales.  She really had an amazing life.  I wish I knew what really happened but since she can’t tell me, I figure I’ll do the next best thing.  I’ll write what her photos inspire in me.

Here’s an example of her looking amazing in Paris…I’m guessing this was in 1947.

to be continued…

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