Size, Decent Humans, Hair Color, My Darling Students, Comedy on City Island

Hi all.  You may have noticed this already.  The last few blog entries each 

have recently received a comment.  Apparently someone wants us all to know he once suffered from having a small penis.  Geez.  I don’t know how to delete the comment.

It reminds me of a blog I wrote a while back about size.

http://www.shesofunny.org/2017/06/enlarge-compassion-sac.html

Us humans in general worry about the wrong things.  Just be a decent 

person. 

Speaking of decent human beings, a few things have made me feel all hope 

is not lost. 

https://www.commondreams.org/news/2019/07/17/dozens-arrested-over-1000-jewish-activists-and-allies-shut-down-entrances-ice?utm_campaign=shareaholic&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=facebook&fbclid=IwAR3xXgn7Y26A5faaIglNncek88rdoVUCEJ3uriayIs_P7bPbagBN_JHFld8

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/70-catholics-arrested-in-dc-protest-over-trump-immigration-policies/2019/07/18/1f3b2bd6-a973-11e9-86dd-d7f0e60391e9_story.html?fbclid=IwAR1aLXWpcz4AIAOGkmhU547TGalFWeBda9wtAIyKhJX2SI_y8YuVglmxFtc&utm_term=.0748185ac8e8

(But if the sadism from the malignant narcissist in the White House with 

the support of his followers continues, I don’t know if we will recover.) 

Next time you see me, I’ll probably be a brunette again.  I’m in a 

production that needs me to have my original color hair.  I welcome the change.

By the way, I received a job listing that sounded right for what I could 

use right now.  Two evenings a week.  Perfect.  Teaching math to returning adult basic students.  They want an experienced person who understands the students and is dynamic.  I thought this is the job I can do now and that I qualify for.  It turned out to be for the place I worked for 18 years.  They HAD dynamic math teachers who understood the students.  They got rid of us.  Aside from a couple of lovely math teachers, they kept people students consider bitches.  A number of students complained to the coordinator about the evil ones, and they felt unheard.  The program is disintegrating.  It took years for the previous administrations to build it, and 2 years to destroy it.  Sound familiar?  Like our democracy (that still needed work) and has after 2 years been worn down to a very sad place.

I was tempted to apply, but I didn’t.  They want someone like me but who 

will drop their integrity to do shit like throw people out due to absences or latenesses.  Fuck that.  The only reason I ever got a student removed from my class is if they made the atmosphere feel unsafe.  I promised my class a safe space, and I meant it.  I don’t think we should repeat the crap that didn’t help people the first time around.  I don’t criminalize people for lateness, and I don’t want bullies ruling the room.

I can’t say it didn’t hurt to see that job listing.  One of the other loved 

(by students and unappreciated by administration) math teachers also received it and contacted me.  I told her, “They had ‘dynamic’ and they didn’t appreciate it.” 

Of course the students are who lose out.  Of all the former co-workers 

and friends I told about the job opening, only the former counselor (who can see from the students’ view) told me to apply.  My best buddy told me to apply just for the “shits and giggles.”  I haven’t.  I’m enjoying being appreciated.  The thing with teaching, I normally feel appreciated by the students.  It’s the administration I have trouble with.  When I first began at that place, the administration both appreciated me and seemed to hate me.  That’s a longer story.  They liked my work, just didn’t like me.  I told one of them that my ‘work’ was an extension of me and who I am; it wasn’t a sofa I bought in a store. 

Geez.

At least I got some comedy bits out of all that.  But I need to get more 

comedy, poetry, or prose out of all the shit I went through.  I am writing memoir about my years in adult education. 

The beauty that no one was able to poison is many former students from 

several jobs are in contact with me.  I LOVE hearing when someone who had been in my class continued on and earned their diploma.  No matter what I may be going through in my personal hell, it makes me smile. 

Speaking of smiling, laughing, and all good feelings –

September 13, 2019 – Comedy show at The Starving Artists 

Café (now The Artist) 8pm.  $10 to enter.  Jar passed around later for the comics.  This is a show I’m booking and can guarantee a good time.  249 City Island Avenue, City Island (the Bronx), New York.  Line-up:  Lisa Harmon!  Mark Larsen!  Melissa Diaz!  Joanna Briley!  I will host.  Laughter is guaranteed.  The weather should still be pleasant, and everyone should visit City Island especially if they live in NYC.  It’s a lovely experience.  Come early, walk around, and explore.  Then get your butt to The Artist before 8pm and laugh with us! 

  

          Love to CGG-M 

From the Dungeon to the Island

I performed on Randy Epley’s Comedy Dungeon show at Jazz on the Park Hostel.  It’s not necessarily an easy audience, but it is interesting.  People are visiting NYC for different reasons from other parts of the country and the world.  The audience included a young woman from Ireland, another from New Zealand, another from Ohio, and others whose homes I don’t know.  Then there were the comics in the audience.  One comic from Michigan brought his little dog.  The dog wasn’t part of the act; he was in the audience.  I love dogs, so it made me smile.

Randy has an unusual style, and it does tickle me. 

The audience may have different levels of English comprehension – and 

there’s the expressions, slang, and curse words.  It’s not a comedy club.  Though people are welcome to BYOB, most are not drinking.  So it is a different experience.  I enjoyed it.  This time, I couldn’t stay until the very end.  I like to when I can. 

When I made reference to Trump without mentioning his name, they got 

it.  They knew who the crotch-grabber I mentioned was.  When I spoke of male/female relationships, they got it no matter where on the globe they were from.  When I said “amoeba,” I wasn’t sure people knew what that was or if the joke just didn’t land.  So it’s a different kind of challenge.  I like the intimacy of the show.  Randy’s style has grown on me.  When I first saw him perform, I think I was just shocked.  Lol.  I am one of those comics who enjoys watching other comics do their thing.  And when I’m tickled, I laugh.  I also learn from watching, especially when a joke doesn’t get the laughs one may have expected.  Those are the hard moments.  Some comics handle it so well and turn it into a funny moment.  That is something I still need to further develop.

It was good to be back on the comedy stage.  It had been a while. 

Trying to not smoke cigarettes.  I’m a mess.  Went out at 4am to get a 

pack.  That’s how well I’m doing with this.  Oy oy oy. 

Reminder:  Mark your calendars for a special evening on City Island.  

September 13^th, 8pm (get there at 7:45).  End-of-Summer-Comedy Show at The Artist (formerly the Starving Artist Café), 249 City Island Avenue.  $10 admission.  NO minimum.  Jar passed around for the comics.  Line-up:  Mark Larsen, Lisa Harmon, Melissa Diaz, Joanna Briley, and me!

Much love to CGG-M  

Sometimes Kickin' Azz Makes History

The people in this photo are Bronx writers who each contributed a slice of memoir to 

the Bronx Memoir Project vol. III.  I’m behind the woman in the red blouse (center, back).

If you’d like your very own copy of the anthology or one to give as a gift, 

click here:  https://www.bronxarts.org/programs/the-bronx-memoir-project/

Your purchase supports the project, so the Bronx Council on the Arts can do it again. 

At the end of June, my long-time friend Judy and I went to the Pride 

Parade.  Unlike years ago, we were spectators.  When we first started going to the parade in the late 70s/early 80s, it was mainly to support a couple of friends.  It was different then.  We were some of the marchers.  You didn’t have to be part of a contingent.  Sometimes I wore a sign, sometimes I didn’t.  When I did, it said, “Another straight for gays’ human rights” and the other side said, “Another straight for lesbians’ human rights.”  When I wore it, so many people would come over to thank me throughout the day.  There would be hugs.  It was a warm human experience.  On years when I didn’t feel like wearing or holding a sign, if I ran into anyone I knew, they’d act like they just discovered my secret.  I once tried to explain that I was there to support friends, and the person “yeah, yeah, yeah”-ed me.  I realized it was making everything worse, so I just decided to let people believe whatever they are going to anyway.  It doesn’t really matter.  These days, I ain’t fuckin’ anyone anyway.

Back then it was rare to see a corporation.  It was more like “Gay Doctors 

and Nurses,” “Gay Teachers,” “Gay and Lesbian Police Officers,” and that sort of thing.  It felt like getting to know the community.  People had boom boxes and played, “Gloria” and “I’m Coming Out” and other popular songs of the time.  The parade typically ended in under five hours and then there’d be partying down Christopher Street.  Dancing on floats, in the streets, and on fire escapes.  Now it lasts over ten hours and it is a lot of commercial advertising – cell phone companies, credit card companies, all kinds of stuff like that.  And those of us who used to be able to march in it are now on the sidewalks behind barricades. 

Judy and I went mainly because of it being the 50^th anniversary of the 

Stonewall patrons fighting back.  That really took balls to fight the police.  I can relate to the fed-up-ness.

In general, gay people tend to make things colorful and pretty, and Judy 

took some good shots.

   

Chuck Schumer partook.

Bill DeBlasio partook.

Judy managed to take pics of none of the corporate stuff.  :-)

Sunday, July 14, at 8:30, comedy show at Jazz on the Park Hostel.  It is 

Randy Epley’s Comedy Dungeon show.  I’m on the line-up.  The show is FREE.  You are welcome to BYOB (& cup), food, etc.  36 West 106 Street near Central Park West. 

Love to CGG-M