Don't Forget to Dance...

"Dan's a fan, and see all our shows... Don't want to spend my life livin' in a rock'n'roll fantasy..." "You walk down the street And all the young punks whistle at you A nice bit of vogue just goes to show what you can achieve with the right attitude As you pass them by, they whisper their remarks one to another And you give them The Eye even though you could be their mother You do the thing you love the most What separates you from the rest? And what you love to do the most And when they ask me how you dance, I'll say that you dance real close. Don't forget to dance..." Last week, my favorite (remaining) record store hit its 33rd b-day: Newbury Comics has been a part of the Boston landscape for 3/4 of my life, and all of my relevant musical life. I think I've only been in the original Newbury Street locale once (or twice). I bought my David Bowie tickets there--7th row for the Orpheum Theatre back in '97. I was just a few people back when the first show sold out; I thought it was going to Bruce in '87 all over again (I was THREE people away from the ticket window in sub-zero weather; I went home and cried like a jilted 13-year-old. Come to think of it, I FELT like a jilted 13-year-old). Then they added a second show... Glorious feeling. Scored those tickets and felt 14 all over again, just a kid in love with Bowie and rock'n'roll and gonna go see the show! I think that was my first (and only) Orpheum show. Yeah, yeah, I know, lived here all my fuckin' life, only seen one show in the Ahpheeum. (Yeah, slipped into Bawstinian again.) Been to Foxboro a buncha times... almost got crushed to death to see U2 back in '87... general seating on the floor, was just a couple of people away from the stage. That was FUCKIN' AWESOME! Joshua Tree tour... glorious. Cried a few times during their set, Bono was so ON. Pogues opened for that one, Pogues and Little Steven. Show was the ballz. Saw Bowie there... lemme think... three times, I think... '83 (that was with Maggie; my second concert evah... my mum drove us down because we were like 15 and 16 and naive Catholic school girls; totally sheltered. I still don't know how we talked her mum, Josie, into letting her go)... '87 for Glass Spider (overproduced, but still good), and 1990... 1990 was fuckin' A, too. The man is a GOD in concert. There's a portrait aging in an attic somewhere for him. Saw The Who there in '89. Holy fuckeroo, that was an AMAZING show... if religion had been like that, I'd have my own church, y'know? Roger Daltrey's voice filled that stadium with something pure and holy and glorious... and Pete, Pete one of the first Guitar Gods... Stones later that year were the biggest soddin' disappointment EVAH. Mouldering Bones, them, and they need to retire. Keith can keep playing, but for fuckssake, if Mick can't remember the lyrics (and he was reading them off a teleprompter), RETIRE, YA BORING OLD CUNT! Let's see... who else... oh, yeah, Floyd in '88 (or was that '87?). The River Rave back in 2002, just after it reopened as Gillette Stadium... Not a bad line-up, although I can't remember for shit who was there besides Jimmy Eat World (they were OK). Shit, just looked up the line up. Evidently, The Strokes played that show, along with Public Enemy (remember them), Sum 41 (kinda remember them), and Tenacious D. Tenacious D was fabulous. Utterly wrong, but fabooooo. U2 on the PopMart tour... (eh, although we did get to meet Bono in the parking lot.) I think there were more shows, but I can't remember. Back after 9-11, Newbury Comics was having a big back-to-school event across all the stores (remember, Bawstin is a huge college town), and Dickie Barrett from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones was signing down in Quincy. I was still trying to get my indie screenplay made at that point, and I'd written most of it while listening to "Question the Answers" (GREAT, AMAZING FUCKING ALBUM!). Dickie was a gentleman, just a stand-up kinda guy, because I asked if the Bosstones ever did a soundtrack--like music written specific for a movie. They'd contributed songs to soundtracks, but never done the music specific. He told me that if I got the movie made, to let them know, and they'd give me permission to use their stuff. And autographed the booklet for QtA with, "Good luck with the flick." Decent guy--that was a pretty bleak time, and he was incredibly kind and encouraging, saying he never thought he'd end up doing what he was doing for a living. Moments like that, they keep me slogging away when I'm ready to give it the fuck up. Newbury Comics wasn't always my favorite record store. I was a customer of Disc Diggers in Davis Square forever. I think 90% of my vinyl came from there. CD Spins was cool when I lived in Allston, ditto for Diskovery (which also had used books; HEAVEN!). I used to go to the Newburys in Harvard Square all the time back in high school. Got my coolest earrings there--zipper pulls. (This was before I was a serious DIY person.) And the black zigzags (I may still have one of them up in my jewelry box. Should look). And when I first got contacts, I got my mirrored wrap-around New Wave shades there. Gods, I loved those fuckin' shades. They were tha SHIT! :-D These days, I hit the Fresh Pond Newburys frequently enough to know most of the staff by name. Great bunch of kids... excellent customer service, and just NICE people. I know, I know... record stores are so passe. But not to me. I mean, OK, fine, the whole digital download thing is cool and eco-friendly and technically cheaper, but... OK, lemme share a story. I am STILL a fan of vinyl. I have ALL of my old vinyl still up in my attic. I also own a USB turn table so I can convert it all (because some of that is NEVER going to come out on CD, although The Fools' "World Dance Party" is, so I guess there's hope) at one point. The first time I bought CDs (one of 'em was the B-52's "Cosmic Thing"--considering seeing them with the Go-gos in June--another was Don Henley's "End of the Innocence"--both still great albums), I was at Disc Diggers, and I looked at the dude behind the counter, the guy who'd been waiting on me for years as I bought stacks of wax, hefted the bag with the three CDs in it, made my pouty face and wailed like a 3-year-old, "It just AIN'T THE SAME!" And Buddy nodded sadly and agreed completely. THIS is why I like record stores--the human interaction. The sharing of the love of music. The exchange, the laughter, the everything. So this dinosaur stomps into her local Newbury Comics (which has parking) at least once a week for my music, DVD, obnoxious pin, pop culture, toy, blind box, whatever fix. I even got my copy of "I Swear to God" from there. (Yeah, there's a Jim Jefferies reference for damn near everything. ;-) Because there is a little part of me that still lives that old rock'n'roll fantasy. There's a part of me that still hopes I die before I get old. At least in my soul. Today's quote is from the songs Rock'n'Roll Fantasy and Don't Forget to Dance by The Kinks. I had the horrible realization that I didn't have ANY of The Kinks on CD and bought a greatest hits compilation the other day at the Newbury Comics b-day sale. Listening to it right now, and it's making me very happy. Ray Davies has a voice that contains such sadness... such a resigned, "that's life" melancholy quality that is truly lovely, and the lyrics... well, The Kinks were always awesome lyrically. Anyone has a copy of "Give the People What They Want" on CD they want to get rid of, let me know.

Dear Jesus... Two VERY Different Conversations

Or, Why I REALLY HATE Religion

Death: Humans need fantasy to *be* human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.
Susan: With tooth fairies? Hogfathers?
Death: Yes. As practice, you have to start out learning to believe the little lies.
Susan: So we can believe the big ones?
Death: Yes. Justice, mercy, duty. That sort of thing.
Susan: They're not the same at all.
Death: You think so? Then take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder, and sieve it through the finest sieve, and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. And yet, you try to act as if there is some ideal order in the world. As if there is some, some rightness in the universe, by which it may be judged.
Susan: But people have got to believe that, or what's the point?
Death: You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?
- Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

Dear Jesus,
Could you have a direct word with your followers and remind them about the One Commandment? And that to be one of your followers, they're supposed to follow that ONE Commandment? Or, better yet, tell them the truth about the censoring of the Bible, the truth about your life (especially those missing years), and the fact that they weren't supposed to make a separate religion out of it?
Many thanks,
Empress

So, I had an interesting weekend. It seems that even when I'm not trying to get into trouble, I get into trouble. Now, I've mentioned that I am a Neopagan--that while I believe in God, I really feel like He needs friends, and I like having a man to argue with who doesn't argue back. It doesn't work in a real, face-to-face relationship, but it gives me the illusion/delusion that I'm not talking to myself.

I used to be a Catholic. Scratch that--I was never a Catholic, but I was raised Catholic and realized after graduating from Catholic school that the reason I never quite fit in is because I didn't believe the dogmatic bullshit. For the record, I don't believe in Jesus Christ as a God figure. I love his philosophy--it jives with several other philosophies that I think are worth living by--and I generally respect his message. HOWEVER... I also accept that he has been used across two millennia as both an agent of civilization and oppression, and that clever men have manipulated that message and history for their purposes.

That is historical fact.

I also accept that we all need beliefs and superstitions. I get that--I have a shitload of my own, and I get that most of them are security blankies--my way of insulating myself against the ugliness of reality. I included the exchange from Hogfather because I think Sir Terry got it right--belief is the essence of being human. It's just that some of us take our beliefs a little too far. Allow me to elucidate.

I was late leaving work on Friday because I stopped by the desk to chat a sec with one of my favorite student workers, Tess. Tess is awesome--aside from the fact that she's brave enough to venture on a jaunt to the Asshole of the Northeast with me to see Celebricrush--she's just a fabulous person. Now, two other students were having a convo, and I couldn't help but listen because it was a GREAT convo--convos like this are the reason I LOVE working in academia because every so often, I get to witness (and take part in) a REAL exchange of ideas--people listening and sharing and discussing--the free exchange of ideas--with civility and respect. What was even more awesome was that Lex and Chris invited us into the conversation. It started with single parenthood and went on to feminism, language, racism, and ended with a handshake on the steps.

I LOVE THAT. Convos like that are food for my soul--nourishing, uplifting, joyful, stimulating and just AWESOME. I left here happy and feeling fabulous, my faith in humanity renewed.

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. I overslept Saturday morning, missed Jason Ciaramella's comic scripting seminars (both of them) at the Brockton NE Comics (majorly annoyed, considering the next writing project after the rewrite is finished is taking a hack at adapting Tory's MS for a manga), as well as getting my hair cut (which it needs desperately). It also put me behind schedule for Getting Things Done--I had a long list that included working out, hitting the supplement store, getting coffee, taking Mum on errands, and running a few of my own before getting home by 8:00 in order to finish up the Lurve Monkeys for etsy.

Sooooooooooooo... I finally made it to the supplement store around 4:30. A friend is running this side of a new business, and I'm psyched because he always give great advice without trying to rip people off. He knows how strapped I am budget-wise, BUT he also knows that I'm hoping for some serious success in the gym PLUS all of my allergy issues, so I can trust Lou's advice (and I will be giving the store a plug in my next "promotes" post). So, I have my selections and he's ringing me up, and there's this old guy leaning against the counter, talking away, and of course, I get pulled into the convo, talking about how long we've known Lou, yadda yadda.

Well, of course, the talk shifts to politics, and it becomes almost immediately obvious that this gent and I are on POLAR opposites of the political spectrum. When I politely make this clear, he tries to hand it off to Lou, who clearly states that he and I have agreed not to talk politics because we are friends and want to stay that way. Lou and I agreed years ago to agree to disagree and not try to sway each other. It's about respect.

Then it gets interesting, because Old Guy is NOT gonna let it go. He pulls another guy over--"Here, let me introduce you to my friend, HE knows all about the TRUTH."

I should have RUN. Instead, I continue to be polite. Mistake: turns out Mr. Truth is a Tea Partier. And a fundamentalist Xtian. Who has studied theology. Who KNOWS Jesus. Who tells me that I don't know Jesus, I haven't studied theology (and yeah, the idiot did NOT know where I work), I don't know the Bible, and the list went on.

I finally said, once I'd been told that I was WRONG, that I was getting out of the conversation because he was being uncivil and not listening and I was walking away. And I did.

Stop fainting--I was in a friend's place of business, I was dealing with old people, I was not going to start cussing him out and making a scene. I modeled my beliefs--I remained civil, polite, and walked the fuck away to look at the menu for the restaurant this place is attached to. Mr. Truth continued to yammer and gesture to Old Guy about how wrong I was, and eventually, they walked out. I tried to look at the menu, but my appetite was gone at that point. I turned around, said good-bye to Lou, and headed for my car. I opened the door to hear Mr. Truth say, "She seems like a really nice lady, but she's WRONG."

I grin, shake my head, and start to descend the stairs. To have Mr. Truth suddenly in my face, trying to evangelize me, reiterating how I don't know The Truth. At which point I say, "There is no single truth. Truth is subjective."

And he freaks. FREAKS. "There's only ONE TRUTH!!!"

Me: "No, there's three sides to the truth: yours, mine, and somewhere in the middle, is fact."

"YOU'RE WRONG!"

I walk away while he blathers and yammers. He continues to shout at me while I walk to my car.

I turn and tell him, "Go in peace," and do the yoga half-bow, hands together with just the fingertips touching.

"YOU GO IN PEACE, TOO!"

What brings me up short is this: "YOU'LL NEVER KNOW JOY BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW JESUS!"

I stop, standing by the door of my car, looking at him with a look that clearly conveys the fact that he has grown four extra heads and I'm trying to comprehend it. I have been rendered speechless. Seriously. Speechless. He repeats himself. And repeats himself as he disappears between his vehicle and an SUV.

Old Guy is standing there, watching me, waiting for my reaction.

And finally, my face splits into a grin, and I say to Old Guy, "Get him a good psychiatrist, willya? He's crazy!" I wave, bust a gut laughing as I get into my car, and I can hear Mr. Truth's voice dopplering over that I'm the crazy one and he doesn't need a shrink, he's got Jesus.

Yeah.

*slams head on the desk*

Being me, I posted the statement to the Twitverse & FB: Evidently, I can never know joy because I don't know Jesus." I also had to call a couple of my Fellow Faithless, the Fabulous Alicia and Vicki and have a damn good laugh with them. Leesh explains that her hubby used to have a roommate named Joy, and she knew her pretty well, so she's OK, and we conclude that I just need to meet someone named Joy. Vicki and I just shake our heads and laugh. I went to the gym, still amused, and got in a good (if short) workout. The FB exchange was pretty good, and of course, I had to tell St. Teresa when I got home because I was still trying to process this insanity. She had the best reply (and remember that St. T. is a good Catholic and real Christian): "How the hell can you know him? HE'S DEAD!"

Yeah, I actually inherited my sarcasm and lack of tolerance for the morons from her.

Had a laugh in Sbux over it with the baristas AND the clients. I got mileage, let me tell ya. I actually had to watch I Swear to God yesterday for a dose of Jim Jefferies's atheism and common sense as an antidote to the rabid Xtianity that had infected my day. How fucking sad is it that the atheists and Neopagans know more about Xtianity and Jesus's philosophy and religion than the people who claim to believe? And to tell me that I hadn't studied theology when the fucker didn't even know my name, never mind my background. *slams head on the desk* THIS is why I HATE people--I really tried to give him a chance, but the idiot wouldn't give me a chance to get a word in.

And I know why--it's not because Mr. Truth trusts his belief. I always find that argument amusing--that it's because a person is SO INFUSED with their FAITH they MUST share it with you. BULLSHIT. It's because they have so little faith they need to shout down the rest of the world lest a little fucking common sense and intelligence worm its way in and create doubt. It's the ultimate form of insecurity--they have so little grounding, they have to shove what little bit of meaning they've found down the throat of others. I hate it. Jesus wept, I have so many fucking insecurities, but I have enough faith in myself and my spirituality to give others the space to be who they are and believe what they need to.

Gimme the same fucking courtesy, willya? Don't look down on me as some poor, uneducated, deluded fool, and I'll give you the same respect, ferfuckssake.

I'm still baffled by it, but for me, it really sums up the difference between the right and the left these days (and it's not an original conclusion): the Right believes that it is RIGHT and leaves no room for discussion. The left concedes that the Right has a right to believe what it does, has a some valid points, but isn't seeing the whole picture.

I'm in the middle--there are people who will tell you that I'm not, but it's not the truth. See, while I have seriously liberal leanings, I also have a fair measure of common sense. I belong to the Coffee Party because I believe in what they're doing--they're working towards civil dialogue. That's all I want. I'm sick of rhetoric, bullshit, bullying, and outright lies. I'm tired of the truth being twisted. I'm tired of the conspiracies and the conspiracy theories. I'm FUCKING TIRED, PEOPLE. It's fucking time we all got along and played nice. Either that, or Washington and the lobbies and the bureaucrats need to be wiped off the planet, let a little anarchy in, and rebuild. I'm done.

(That being said, let it be noted that I am not one of these extremists that has a stockpile of weapons--chemical or firearms--at home who would act on such an insane premise. What has been stated above is HUMOR--BLACK HUMOR, CYNICISM. And it makes me very sad and lose hope that I have to make a statement like this on this blog because my country has forgotten sanity and civility and is going the way of ancient Rome--once a beautiful civilization worth respect and glory, now a crumbling ruin of inanity, excess and extremity.)

So in conclusion... Argh. To be Christlike, consider the above parable-ish. If you find yourself dealing with someone with an opposing viewpoint, LISTEN. CONSIDER. You don't have to change your beliefs or your faith, but at least allow that the other person has a right to their own truth.

Doing what Mr. Truth did to me on Saturday is how wars start. How Christlike is that?

Well, THAT was Surreal

http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?topic=17645&post=106277&uid=270220913523#post106277

Greetings, oh, my blurking darlings, on this horrible Monday-like Tuesday.

The weather outside is frightful, and your Empress has been taken to task for her Celibricrush yet again.

This time by a stranger.

I know I should NOT be amused. I shouldn't be. But I am. As someone with a bloody hot temper who has gone off half-cocked more than once (and been called out for it), it's nice for once to catch someone doing it to me. I honestly feel for this woman--I've endured enough prejudice over the years for stupid, superficial reasons to understand her pain to a degree. But to slam someone like that... Oy. I'm trying NOT to make a joke of it because... yeah. It would be incredibly cruel of me. INCREDIBLY cruel of me.

In short, for those not wanting to click on the link, the poster called me out on calling Jim's show on 10/1 awesome. I don't think she's seen him live--I think it was about I Swear to God.

And I try to avoid cruelty whenever I can. Unless someone deserves it. And this woman doesn't.

There. Ethical decision made.

Next post will be about someone who DOES deserve a good kick in the bollocks. If I can remember what I was thinking about last night... *sigh* And recipe for the perfected Guiness mac & cheese coming as well.

Wow. And I had decided not to post about Celebricrush until after I'd bought my tickets for Foxwoods. *shakes head*

Imagine... a few thoughts at the end of a productive day

Well, all this blogging has paid off. The rewrite of my novel started finally--managed to rewrite the first two chapters of One Flew Out of the Broom Closet.

SCORE!

On the other hand... I'm a bit annoyed.

Surprise, surprise.

A friend posted a humorous piece on FB today. I shared it because I thought it was brilliant--lighthearted British humor, a poke at religion.

http://www.thedailymash.co.uk/news/society/religious-belief-linked-to-being-a-bit-dim-201009293125/

I don't like organized religion. As a matter of fact, I fucking hate it. Why? Because, honestly, I think it's stupid.

Stooooooooooooooooooooopid.

I quit the Catholic Church a quarter of a century ago after twelve years of enforced indoctrination (i.e. Catholic school). Twelve years of daily religion classes. I find it really amusing that I always did well in religion--don't think I ever got less than a B. I mean, it was simple enough--pay attention, answer the questions... think about things. The thing I remember the most clearly are two things: Jesus's One Commandment (the whole "do unto others thing") and the statement that a mature faith is a questioning faith.

Well, I asked enough questions that I realized to have faith, I couldn't do religion. Because it's bullshit. I had this realization while sitting in the church during my grandmother's funeral and it hitting me that I thought every bloody word coming out of the priest's mouth (and I hated that evil fucker with a passion, the vicious bastard) was a load. A complete, utter, stinking load and I didn't believe a word of it.

And never had.

THAT'S a hard one when your entire family life revolves around the fucking Church. I mean, not in a go-to-Church way, but in a more serious Catholic-is-how-we-roll way. Being Catholic was as important as being a pro-Kennedy Democrat in my house, more important than rooting for the Red Sox or being Irish, because my family knew what it was to be persecuted (or at least harrassed) for being Catholic.

And I didn't get it.

I never saw the sense in no meat on Fridays. What the fuck did God care? Seriously. If sinning meant deliberately causing harm to another, where was the sin in eating steak instead of fish on a Friday? (People think it's a fasting/sacrifice issue--it's not. It was instituted originally purely for economic reasons. That's one of the problems with being a historian--you learn things like facts.)

This is one of the many issues I had. And although I made myself wait until I was in a calmer frame of mind to make a final decision, I quit the fucking Church. I had to; I'd seen too much hypocrisy committed by the leaders, and too much hypocrisy amongst "believers." I hated the message being preached, the complete lack of connection to the world and the need of the people the Church was supposed to be serving.

And I just didn't see the point. I had NEVER seen the point in going to church. It was BORING. I'd heard all the readings in school, and in church, there was no discussion, no debate--no engagement. I didn't get it.

Everything that was joyful was somehow wrong, and I didn't understand that, either. What the Church taught contradicted what Jesus said, and it didn't make any fucking sense. A lot of other things ceased to make sense once I gained a non-Catholic education and started getting the view from the other sides. And there are so very many of them.

So I quit.

It's been a long, strange trip since then. I have no problem with God; I have a real problem with his various and sundry fan clubs. I have a major problems with the fanatics who like to interpret the Bible and add embellishments that have nothing to do with Jesus's philosophy. I've found my own way, my own spirituality that works for me and satisfies my needs. I have a "personal relationship" with God--it involves a lot of arguing and WTFs, man? And I feel bad for Jesus--he gave us a great philosophy, and we had to go and fuck it up by turning it into a religion.

I don't see the sense in condemning someone for loving someone of the same sex. I don't see the sense in calling anything but missionary-position coitus for procreational purposes sinful. I don't see the sense in killing someone because they won't believe the same thing you do. I don't see the sense in any of it.

John Lennon would have been 70 this past Saturday. I'm going to sign off tonight with the lyrics to "Imagine," a song that I have to turn off if it comes on the radio when I'm driving because I cannot hear it without weeping. It's a Utopian vision for the world, but by all that's good and holy, I hope someday you'll join us...

"Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one"

The Empress Abroad - An Evening with Jim Jefferies,Part 1: WHAT A PERFORMANCE!

This is the first of three posts on yesterday's adventure. This one actually deals with the show; the other two will deal with the ensuing adventures surrounding and The Empress and the experience of the Celebricrush. (My word! I coined it! Bite me!)

OK, anyone who has had a conversation with me over the past two months that lasted longer than five minutes has heard about Jim Jefferies: how I caught his "I Swear to God" show by accident on HBO whilst Lucky- and Chey-sitting at 2:00 a.m. and had my mind blown and the final breakthrough of a year full of breakthroughs.

Well, yesterday I schlepped my arse down to one of my less-favorite places on the planet, New York City, solely for the purpose of seeing Jim.

Because Jim is a fucking god, comedically speaking. Now, since catching "I Swear to God," I've been all over the Interwebs, looking for his performances. YouTube is a good source (aside from the legit clips his manager has posted, the bits from Opie and Anthony are great, ditto the Minty's 2007 appearance, interviews from the Edinburgh Fringe Magazine, a couple of other miscellaneous interviews--the one from The Cave where he impersonates the head of a circumcised cock... yeah--TV appearances in the UK, plus a couple of "pirate" vids shot on cell phone video from a couple of festivals). I am not an advocate of pirating for a lot of obvious reasons (1. I'm a librarian. Copyright must be respected at all times! and 2. I'm a novelist trying to get my shit published, a longtime theatre person, and a fledgling comedian--I WANTS PAYING, DAMN YOU! So I can't exactly advocate swiping shit when it's people like me and my friends who get screwed); HOWEVER... the two easier to find pirate vids are great, not in terms of technical quality, but in terms of getting a taste of Jim live--relaxed and at ease with his audience.

Now, anyone who deals with me knows how hard I am to impress. I'm a cynical old bitch who frequently crosses the line into Evil Cunt without even trying--I am DEMANDING. As a highly ethical being, I expect a degree of ethics from others (note: I say "ethics," NOT "morality" which is a bastard concept imposed by bullshit religions), and when I don't get it, I get cranky. However, when someone behaves with graciousness and magnamity...

OK, I hear the kin-niggots in the background shouting, "GET ON WITH IT!" and brandishing their weapons. Onward. So, I made a dinner reservation because it meant VIP seating. Now, honestly, the food at Caroline's... I wasn't impressed. The service is EXCELLENT--the servers are lovely, ditto the host/esses. I have a Bostonian's distrust of New York (sad, I know, but it's cultural and ingrained); Caroline's is a legendary comedy establishment, and I can't not recommend the experience of seeing a show there. Great service, great view, and a good value for the money. Just... just don't expect much from the food.

Now, as I was picking at dinner (because I really wasn't hungry; should have been, but wasn't), the early show let out. People piled out of the theatre, the hostess swept over the table near where a bunch of us were eating, and next thing I know, a figure I recognize is standing ten feet away from me.

Well, Jim started signing DVDs, shaking hands, taking pictures, talking with people... just a whirlwind of energy and activity. Well, Fan Grrrrl here pulled "Contraband" from her bag, and after hesitating, asked the hostess if he'd be signing after the next show. She said she wasn't sure, so I gave it a minute and when there was a lull, stepped forward with my DVD.

OK, a word about "Contraband": this was Jim's first DVD release. Now, I got my copy off of ebay a month ago after a serious pissing contest with another fan over there; however, I was a woman on a mission (more about this in the Celebricrush post), and no fucking way was some *grumblemumblenastywordforBritishpersonheregrumblemumble* outbidding me on this DVD, dammit. They tried, oh, how they tried, but inbred British defeatism will never overcome American entitlement and aggressive consumerism. So, I hand the DVD to Jim and he is shocked out of his mind and says to me, "Do you know how many of these exist?"

"5000."

"Yeah!" Well, there was "Contraband" sitting on the table next to "I Swear to God" and he says, "Better picture on that one."

"Definitely hotter." I got a look for that one. Surprise, but why, I don't know. He is... right, Celebricrush next post, GET ON WITH IT.

Well, we got into a discussion of the merits of the two shows--of course, Jim saying that the HBO show is better, and the newest one... he's over the moon about "Alcoholocaust." (It's being released in the UK on November 8th, two days after my birthday. Save your pennies, kids. Actually, don't bother because you know I'm gonna preorder the fucking thing because I can't live without it. It's Pratchett Syndrome all over again, dammit.) And being a director, I have to say that while I Swear to God is a far more polished performance, I love Contraband because he's so much more at ease with his audience.

(And he is--the extras include the first night of the performance of his show "30," which features the sing-along version of "I Am the Egg Man." There is something really special about seeing a performer with that kind of rapport with their audience. As an actor, I love that shit. It just makes me happy. Reminds me of the first time I saw Bowie perform in '83 on the Serious Moonlight tour--the "comeback" tour, like the man was ever away--down at Foxboro. Singing "Space Oddity," he suddenly realized that the entire crowd was singing along with him. The smile on Bowie's face will remain with me for my entire life... BEAMING, joyful, as it hit him how much people loved him, his music, and that HE was causing this incredible moment with 60,000 people in a crapass football stadium, all of us holding up a means to fire and singing along. THAT'S MAGIC.)

Jim then launches into the details behind "Contraband"--how he hired three camera guys with his own money to make the DVD so he'd have something to sell at gigs, and then... then he got famous right after it was made. Problem was the distributor owned the DVD, so he bought himself out of it by buying them up. Evidently, I now possess an ultra-rare bit of Jim Jefferies memorabilia, and fuck you, no, I ain't sellin' it. MINE!!!!! *growl* Remember what I've said about my Bowie albums? (Including the original American release of The Man Who Sold the World, the infamous "cowboy cover," and Bowie wanks know of what I speak--I have most of his catalogue up until Never Let Me Down, including 12" of "Dancin' in the Streets" and "Absolute Beginners," the best fucking love song ever recorded.) Cold. Dead. Hands.

I got a pic with him (terrible pic, all dark and shit, but hey, I had his arm around my shoulders... perfect height... *sigh* The sad thing is that I've got two guys on the hook and a potential third. I am not short of potential action at the mo), took a pic for the lovely couple sitting across from me, and then offered to buy him a drink, which was refused, "Nah, I'm off the booze," and off he went.

Then came the show. Well, Yours Truly had VIP table #4. It was SWEET: little single table not too far from the stage, perfect view. One table in front of me, and I could deal with that. Brett McKenzie from "Flight of the Conchords" opened. Funny guy. I've never seen the show, heard raves about it, and he was nice to look at and fucking funny to hear. Good material, good opener.

And then... Jim.

The place went wild. Insane. And Jim bounced out clutching a bottle of water and hit the place like a fuckin' hurricane.

I will say this about Jim Jefferies: his DVDs are fucking hysterical (yeah, I know, gotta produce the "fuckgraph" to demonstrate how good something is by the number of times I use the word). They are. I mean, I was having laugh flashbacks for two weeks over, "UP! GUNTA! UP!" (and I hate fat jokes, never mind elephant jokes) Get "I Swear to God"--rent it, Netflix it, whatever, but see it. But if you get the chance,

SEE. JIM. LIVE.

The great thing about the Internet is that you can easily get a taste of a career progression. It's interesting to hear Jim in interviews (and in his material)--he is very good at describing himself as "not smart enough." There is NOTHING stupid about this man or his material. He has a natural grace on stage--FABULOUS timing, and even when he flubs a line, saves it like a fuckin' pro, laughs at himself, fixes it, moves on, and the audience loves it, loves him, and laughs along.

That's the secret, kids--bottom line, whatever form of performing you're into, acting, music, comedy, whatever--ENJOY YOURSELF out there. HAVE FUN. Be FEARLESS. Jim Jefferies exemplifies this--he loves what he's doing, he's having a good time, and he commits wholly to what he's doing, and is utterly fearless with his material. He doesn't give a rat's ragged ass who he offends (or should it be "whom"? Who the fuck cares? It's my sodding blog). I think this is why I am so enamoured and inspired by him--that's the place I started from and am getting back to. However small he may claim his dick is, Jim has got ginormous brass balls on stage.

Note that I'm not talking too much about his material. That's deliberate. It's his material, not mine, and honestly, I want you to spend your money and see him. I mean, get me talking face to face, I'll quote a bit, but I'm talking about the performance and quality thereof, not the specifics of the material.

Although his material... Again, fearless. He takes on religion--particularly Xtianity and its hypocrisy--relationships, women, lesbians (and anyone who has had the old Lesley Lesbian Lug experience will appreciate his view of humorless dykes). Actually, here I will quote: "If you hate men so much, STOP TRYING TO LOOK LIKE THEM!" Like I said, after certain experiences at Lesley, I thoroughly appreciated this bit. Sex. Lots about sex. He had a great go at America that I completely agreed with (anyone who has heard my rant about being a nation of entitled spoiled brats will understand) that became a bit on his own battle with depression. No excuses, no bullshit--remind you of anyone? ;-) And I couldn't disagree with him, honestly, and even when a part of me wanted to, I was still laughing. Hard.

After the show, he was just as gracious as after the first one, and several people went up for second rounds of pics and handshakes and chats... but more about that in Part 2, Celebricrush.

Jim, if you read this, THANK YOU and ALL SUCCESS to you! Part of me doesn't want you to be cast in anything because you're so damn brilliant a standup, but the actor and director in me wants to see you in films because you're fucking amazing.

Here is my final point about Jim Jefferies as a performer: he has been described as "Britain's most offensive stand-up comic" for his subject matter and language choices (I had already embraced the word "cunt" a while ago, but Jim... yeah. It's his word, and as he'll tell you, he does know better, he just doesn't give a fuck, bless him). While I will agree that he is not for the easily offended (i.e. the humorless cunts that seem to overpopulate the world these days), that description does his talent, performance skills, and material a grave disservice.

I worshipped George Carlin. Carlin was a god. He can't be replaced--he came up in a unique point of stand-up history, and no one can replace him. However, I think Jim is the Carlin of his generation. He's at his best not when he's doing a gag, but when he's telling a story, be it about his mother, his dad (Gods, I want to buy his dad a pint, just because he sounds like a hoot; his mum I'd like to make a cup of tea because raising three boys... ), or himself. Jim's a natural storyteller and if you watch his face carefully (and this is where DVD serves well), he will break your fucking heart. You'll be pissing yourself laughing, but your heart will be torn in shreds at the same time because his warm brown eyes go black with rage, pain and outrage over humanity's lack of humanity. He's already kicked the schtick habit so many of the greats held on to for too long--it took having a heart attack for Carlin to get pissed off enough to stop with the silly shit and just be his cranky, brilliant fucking self. Robin Williams has only just got to the point where he can be honest. Mind you, Jim has come back from cock cancer and is now facing liver issues, so mortality is definitely giving him a prod, but you know from his stories, it's never been easy. That's what makes for great comedy--Shakespeare knew that. You'll find some of his funniest bits in the tragedies because it was necessary.

Again, Jim, thanks for an awesome performance. You're a gracious, decent fella, and I hope you keep it together and conquer the fucking world. It doesn't deserve the favor, but fuck, man, it needs it.

One bitch, though--could you get your press release updated? Sorry, but the U.S. management needs to get their shit together and get an updated press kit together--just looks shoddy, and you are NOT shoddy. (Sorry, that's the producer in me. I smack people around for missing details like that.)

OK, on to Part Two, the travellogue/gushy post. Be prepared to roll your eyes, say, "Oh, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, RIZ, GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE!" and laugh because it's gonna be one about my stupidly ridiculous life.