From Christmas 05 to Christmas 06: A Black Chick's Journal

[Shaun Landry]

85 Dollars of Wine. In One Bottle

Moron Life comes over in his sporty Mee-ya-daa (as I like to call it). I have lasagne and chicken to eat after we poster. He brings over a bottle of wine. I ask him to bring one over and he says "Anything in particular" I say "The kind in a bottle"...

He brings over a bottle with a very fancy label. He asks for a wide decanter to let it breathe. This is some serious mother fucking shit asking for a decanter. I look at the bottle and ope the cork and the body of this stuff is amazing.

I look up from the bottle and say "How much was this wine"

85 Dollars he says.

WHAT THE FLYING FUCK. I scream. He says its okay...he only paid 42

WHAT THE FLYING FUCK!

I was going to call Yoga boy to cancel. Oh no. Knowing that the parties I have been with have all been mostly wine parties? That brother is coming over to have some 85 dollar motherfucking WINE.

We let the super expensive wine breathe...i turn the half unthawed lasagne down to 200 and we head out to poster and card the mission in the Mee-Ya-Daa.

We hit a bunch of my favorite places in the mission. All the bookstores, the Punk Music Store...the coffee shops. The bars. The theaters. We go to the Onion sponsored wine bar I orginally met Onion Steve at. When Moron Life announces the bottle he brought to the house. The owner of the wine bar stepped back two steps and said "What the hell are you DOING HERE. GO HOME!"

We head back down and hit Zeitgiest. I wanted to stay. The backroom was packed and you could only smell the best BBQ in the world with punk playing and weed. I stood there for about a minute by the grill. And forgot I needed to leave...because there is 85 buck wine breathing on my table.

We get home and it is perfect. I thought the place would be burned with the oven being on...but it was perfect. I just turned it up a bit to brown the top of the food and then seared the chicken with rosted yellow peppers with purple onions and some garlic on top of the chicken.

Then we poured that wine. And I took a sip.

...
..

There will never be a red wine in the world I will ever drink again where I will not be comparing it to this red wine. I took the bottle and put it as part of the kitch collection in my house.

Yoga Boy shows up and me him and Moron Life sit on the couch...chew the fat and we talk about format for Yoga Boy and Me. (not the name of the show...but our last names) We drink really good wine. Have great conversations. I tell him the events of the day. He owes me a drink from a bet.

It was lovely. the first day Hans is gone and I have company. Moron Life is coming by early to help me out with the party. He is a dear, dear man.

With a Mi-Ya Da...and the hook to insane rich people's wine.

 

[Shaun Landry]

San Francisco 1968

That is what it feels like right now.

I woke up on the couch with all the lights on and three glasses of spent wine on my coffee table.

I put on my red dashiki, since it has not been clean in god knows how long and start working on The Festival.

Then I hear outside The Doors. really loud. I'm all Oh yeah. I print out the invites to give to my five neighbors so they know what is going on and if they would like to come. I open the door...and a big American Flag is over the gate of the house. Ray is having a impromptu House Sale.

Whiskey Bar is playing. The Dirty American Flag. The Dashiki. A little surreal. I buy the american Flag for five bucks. It's a great deal. Its a great prop. I might turn a pair of jeans into them.

==================================================

Yesterday I spend an hour on the phone with the Houston Chronicle on Long Form Improvisation before Moronlife came over. We talked about the idea of the format itself, the rush you get doing it. The Artistic Freedom of doing it. The ultimate fear of it. The possibilities and theatricalities of it.

He was a really good interviewer. Something I had not had in a long time. We talk about Massive Creativity and their push for longform in Houston.

Then we start talking about African Americans in improv and him asking why there was not a lot of us doing it.

I had a ton of theories over the years. A lot of them. Of late I have landed on this simple premise: It's location. Because of how most major cities are set up? Improv Companies fall in non African American Areas. I told him "There are a hell of alot more blacks and actual improv ensembles, like Nation of Improv in Los Angeles than when we started....and Second City Chicago has a southside establishment, so when there were only three of us in the 80' in Chicago? There are many more people of color now"

Then I said. "Improv. It aint just for white folks anymore" He started to laugh. I say dumb shit that gets quoted.

He asked if I thought I was an improviser or an actor. I said I'm both. And never thought he two were seperate. If I had to go that way?

I'm an actor. Who improvises. The article should come out next week. I really hope it gets Massive Creativity and whoever else out in Houston gets some improv play.

=======================================================

You shook me all night long is playing outside now. They are playing the entire AC/DC Back in Black Album.

It's now early eighties San Francisco. I need to take out the braids and get a Gehri Curl.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Poor Viagra

I go out a get my mail and my monthly coffee delivery, and in the mail. A check from my tix service.

Oh great god. I open up the envelope and sure enough? Another check for almost two grand.

This time? It's made out to the right company...but attentioned to my name and my address.

So before I call Viagra? I call up Rod Serling at the ticket service

Serling: Baybee!
Me: Baybee! So listen....what does a girl have to do not to get poor Viagra's checks anymore?

He goes to accounting to fix it again. Then I call up Viagra. I get his cell phone voice mail. I leave a message "Baby, I got your check again"

Then I call his office number. I get that voice mail. On it? Information is still on for The San Francisco improv Festival 2005. I just laugh and laugh.

"Baby, This is Shaun. You might want to change your voice mail. Oh...I got your check again. Check your cell phone voice meail"

He calls back a minute ago from his car driving here. He said to me when he talked to The Ticket Service "God Forbide my check fell into the hands of someone I don't trust"

No fucking doubt. He also says "I have pulling money off of my house to cover...because I feel actors need to be paid"

You see this is why I love Viagra. Always have. From the moment I met him when I moved here...to doing shows with him and being on his board.

It's yucky. Just plain yucky. to have to pick up lots of money you have been waiting for.

Yes its a technical business term.

Yucky.

He drives we chat and laugh. He points me to his ladies New Novel called Samba Dreamers with the front cover done by our friend T.J. He tells me he is outside...*we are still on the phone when I walk outside to his car with no shoes on*

This always makes me laugh. I told him I just purchased the book. He said "You know that is a selling point to get her out of the house to the party"

I just laughed and laughed. Viagra and his lady are hanging. It's been really super long.

 

[Shaun Landry]

I got to get motivated.

I almost fell asleep on the couch again. This time no. This time I turned out all the lights and headed to the back to sleep in bed. I tussled about for about fifteen minutes. Then tried to imagine the good things about sleeping alone again: The room. Not listening to Hans Snore and trying to get to sleep before he gets to sleep. Not listening to NPR before I go to sleep because I cannot go to bed with the radio on fast, and when I do? I end up dreaming about whatever is on the radio. So that is probably why my dreams are so eerily realistic.

I started thinking about that. I still could not sleep...because it made me miss Hans more. So I stared at the skylight. Then I moved to my side of the bed, put the pillow where he usually sleeps and pretended it was him.

Next thing I know? I was awake. I'll do that again tonight.

==================================================

I got a party tonight. And I got so much to do. Reclean the house. Get the grill and red bucket to put the beer in..Grab extra beer. start prepping food.

It's nine. I'm in my blue blanket and typing here.

I got to get motivated.

I really miss Hans.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Break

I'm taking a break from preparin for this party.

Okay.

Once I got motivated to move I went over to The Theater to pick up my grill. I grab it from the roof and grab some cups. I call a cab because somehow, whoever re-asssembled it over there has the handle all fucked up on the wrong side to push.

That is when Leather and Santa Hat and his assistant Kato shows up. (I just laughed at the nickname I just gane Leather and Santa Hat's guy). They donate a big ass bottle of Vodaka to the cause. Fucking A' And they also drive my ass home with the grill. Even better.

I open my grill andthe air vents are rusted. Shit. No WD-40 in the house. I bang on the bottom with a hammer and a wrench. Shit. Careful BBQ'ing tonight. With the vents on top closed.

I start cooking. The eggs. Chopping...chopping...waitaminnite...I have a Quisinart! But I can't do the skewers in the Quisinart! Chopping...Skewering...Chopping. Soak the chicken legs in Beer Soy garlic Basil and a touch of hickory smoke. wrap and fridge. Pat the burger. Wrap and fridge. Wrap the Veggie Skewers. In the Fridge.

I check emails back and forth. It is now 2ish. Moronlife is not here. Well, maybe he is coming at four...

Check the email at four. Email from Moronlife. He is sick and taking a nap. Oh no. I was expecting him to help with the beverage and BBQ Coal run.

Stop everything. Grab a cart. Run to the liquor store. a case of beer three bottles of wine and the coal. Haul it back. Put all that with water and ice into the ice bin. Set up the hard liquor self serve bar. Stand back. How does it look? Fine by me.

Then the thought: Fuck. I have no water or soda. Cart and back out. This time the other direction to sixth. Go to the liquor store where i dropped off the postcards next to the pizza place. Ask if they have water and soda in cases. He not only hooks me up...but he gives me a discount.

Thank god. Haul shit back. Cart falls over. One Case pops opens. Pepsi's rolls in the middle of the street on Natoma by the artsy art place. Homeless man helps me collects the soda and reload the cart. I give him three sodas.
I love San Francisco.

Back home. Load ice in another bin with water and soda. Look. Better. My doorbell rings. It is my downstairs neighbor who used to live in my old apartment. He has brought Zuccinni and two monster bag of strawberries, blue and red seedless grapes...

And a big ass fresh Pineapple. Holy hell he rocks. Take that in. Put it to the side. Do the devil Eggs. Dust them with Parika. Covered in goo. Look at my black pants. I'm a fucking mess. Clean up the counter and everything...attack Pineapple...choppity chop. Was grapes. De-flower the strawberries (to not have tops all over the damn place) dump in a bowl. Slap the pineapple head in the middle for decoration.

Put that up in the front in the office. Put postcards out on display along with HP stuff. Check my email *more people have RSVP.*

Okay. Don't panick. Put a bowl of wheat thins out on the front table. Look. FUCK. I need chips. I'm tired of running out now. Grab Tortilla shells out of the fridge. Grab the Olive oil and oregeno and MAKE chips.

The phone rings. It's Curly. We talk for a bit. I lay down for one second? And I feel exhausted. I tell him "If I don't get off the phone and get up, I'm fucked"

I come up here and sit down to take a sitting break.

And this is the break.

Now I'm done. It's 7PM I got three hours for this party....

And I smell like sweat and pineapples.

 

[Shaun Landry]

The Finale

It is almost four in the morning and my last guest left. Here are the things that are left from the party.

1) A bowl of refilled chips (Because they ate the homemade ones prety fast) and a left over empty bowl of salsa. Someone turned on the laser beam (that is both voice and touch activated) and it is still on. It has not been on in years.

2) Water in the office. Everyone snarfed down the deviled eggs and the Wheat Thins. on the table are the leftover SFIF cards that I laid out....and people's cards including the Management agency.

2) The kitchen is just what it is. It is actually not that bad really? But I'm sure it will be worse when I realize that people brought a shit load of beer, wine and other stuff...and I have to find somewhere to store it. On the table is a half eaten "Marion Berry Pie" and Zippy took one of the remaining hot dogs...AND CARVED IT INTO A PENIS. He also took homet the actual holder of teh pie package that Ann Feehan brought. Marion Berry Pie. Fucking Classic.

3) The back porch just needs to be cleaned. The Management people hung out there a lot...and I had to push actors back there just to talk to them.

4) The front porch has one lone beer bottle full of butts. Even though I told people "This is a smoking house"....San Francisco Smokers STILL smoked outside. Nicest people in the world.

Best moments:

Scott Keck screaming in front of my house like someone on 6th Street.

"You have something girl. I will make you a household name!" says one of the talent people. I say "Do it fucking quick before my face falls"

A really long name for an idea for a show...out of all people...my downstairs neighbor.

Walking by the front room and two people in deep deep intense conversation. I got out of the front room quick.

The breakdown of who hung out in what room: Front Porch: the Standups. Front Room? Stoners. No one in the middle room unless they were getting eggs. Kitchen is the improvisers afraid to go to the porch. The porch...the agency people. I had to shoo people onto the porch just to meet and be the wonderful people they are.

Baldy Sam stirring shit by calling people wondering why they are not there. an me saying "Oh jesus fucking christ. Grow up"

Stacey next door showing up (drunk) when the party was only down to three people. and being...well..very funny.

Everyone was leaving saying they had a great time. I was really, really scared. By 10:15 no one was here. By 10:40 it was jammed packed.

I have a meeting on Tuesday with the agency people. I guess they want to manage my career. I stood there and say "Sure..but if you need any other headshots from other improvisers..."

And the "Household Name" woman looked at me like I was high. And I wasn't. Then.

I'm really good at producing other people. I have no fucking idea how to do that for myself.

I had fun. It seemed like other people had fun. All of the meat and eggs are gone...so that is at least a good indication.

 

[Shaun Landry]

oh. and my cat is offically named "Lenny"

There is some back story there. I just don't know what.

 

[Shaun Landry]

The Aftermath

Know what good about the aftermath of this party? Green Apple/Pineapple/Strawberry/Grape Smoothies. I tell you what.

I woke up at ten and laid in bed with the sun coming in. Tut all curled up on the side of me where Hans sleeps. There is something nice about being a host where you don't get all fucked up. No hangover. that's good. But I'm sore. all over. My back aches. That is probably from dancing with Yoga boy in the middle room at some point, and the non stop starting at 10AM to 4AM the next day.

But at least my feet were warm. I crawled into bed with all my clothes on this morning and when I was warm enough under the covers...I took my jeans off and slid them down to my feet and wrapped my own feet in my leg warmth. No clue what going on with my chilly chilly feet. But today without the tuck assist from Hans? My feeet were toasty warm. I need socks. God. I'm getting old.

Sent the evite thank you out to everyone. Answered some worried emails on behavior at the party....and got a call from The Person This Blog is Really About to do another audition class after the festival.

And, I got to get into the shower an put get dressed for How We First Met's show tonight. I promised JB that I was going to go to Coppolas after the show...and then today I realized that I promised Joe/Jay I would see him perform after tonights show...last night. The Management people are right. I need to managed by professionals.

Fifty bucks. That pays back for the booze and water. That's good by me.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Game Face

After the show, I was sitting on the stairs of the purple onion where the bathrooms are contemplating the show. I thought it was a weak performance in my mind. So I'm sitting there just re-running the show...and not feeling very good...

And three people come up to me while going to the bathroom,

Lady with Lots of Makeup: OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO FUNNY! YOU ARE SO TALENTED AND BOY YOU CAN SING!

Me: (Big smile game face) That is so sweet! Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed the show!

The walk into the bathroom and I sat there re-running what I thought was a weak show.

If this was when I started doing improv I would have said "My god. What show were you watching"....

But I don't anymore. Because that is their opinion of the show...and the moment my nuerotic opinions of my show comes out...they leave thinking "What is wrong with my opinions"

So I game face. Big smile...thank you...handshakes. One lady *hugged me*

One point I went upstairs just to be miserable with Joe/Jay...and I head back to say my goodbyes and it is a processional of people coming up the stairs saying how great I was. Big smile. Thank you's. Handshakes..passing out postcards....

Game. Face.

How I feel and what people see are violently different. Violenty different. Their big perk was they felt that they saw a great show tonight.

My big perk? I got my money this time in cash and the free drink ticket.

I go through my own personal performance and try to pick out what was the best out of it to at least keep me artistically going. You know...picking the corn out of the shit?

The Gragorian Chant of desperation song audition that made me the Protagonist. Me pegging her pretty hard in ding. The blues song without the mic (when she said the difference between him and her is she is a yeller and he is subdubed) and someone trying to hand me a mic and saying Thanks, but I will just scream this out.

I cam to the show late. NO CAB WOULD PICK ME UP. I literally stood in the street when JB called me wondering where I was to flag down an empty cab in a true panic moment, after literally nine empty cabs drove by me. 30 goddamn minutes on the street.

And thank god for Fuzzy V. I did not get a chance to warm up at all because I was running behind and my voice was whacked from being up so late the night before. Thank god he knew and was at the party. He warmed me up after the rehearsal. The Tonic and lime also helped too.

People seemed to love the show. I was going to go to Coppola's. But I really had no sort of discerning conversation I could hold without being miserable. So I opted instead to go with Joe/Jay to the Comedy College and see him...half the cats from SPF7 and some other folks do pretty much a mess around stand up set.

I got food from Jack in The Box and brought Apple Cider. CC Owner introduces me to some guy who is from Playboy or something like that. Seemed important. He had bags and he just got off the plane from Los Angeles. Owner tells him I'm the "Queen of Improv in San Francisco". I look at him exhausted and say "I don't know what the fuck that means, but thanks CC Owner." Game Face Gone.

I run into Coco Read You Like a Book...who asked me about when the movie is coming out. I chit chat with some gay guy about the process of my hair.

And I watch stand up. Farely's look alike is there. And he takes off my shirt and we all scream. Even the hair pattern on that guys back is like fucking Farley's. He also kinda won't shut up. After a while it becomes annoying.

Poster J is terribly prepared and very funny. So is Joe/Jay and a young lady who came to the party and has been to the jam. I was so tired that I was nursing the Apple beer I had and just left the six pack there as some donation. I hug it out and tell them I will be there on Monday.

I get into a cab and come home.

I'm really, really tired. That sort of weird tired that you do when half of the night you have Game Face on...and the other half you watch others perform.

Oy. I'm just glad I got paid in cash.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Six Years.

Six years ago today I moved here to San Francisco. By myself. Hans was still in Chicag

Today. I'm in the house by myself. Hans is in Florida. He called me today and we talked on the phone for almost three hours. I informed him it has been six years and he wsa not here and he said "Yeah...the difference is, I'm not lugging all of our stuff when I get there on saturday"

I laughed and said. "Yeah...and the idea that I'm not sitting here now contemplating on telling you to stay your white ass in Florida."

That was San Francisco 2000. I was ready to leave Hans the moment I got on that plane. It was not good times for us then. Not good times at *all*

But I changed my mind. I changed my mind roughly about three weeks up here.

And now six years later? I'm glad I did not tell him to stay in Chicago. I really honestly don't know what I was thinking. I found out over six years the people who really honestly love me.

And he? Is one of those people.

Today I talk to the Management People. And, then have a meeting with them on Tuesday at the offices. I guess they know people who can host the festival. Sure. Big bobble head of a figure...I talked to the guy today heading out to the theater and I guess he is calling everyone back who gave him headshots and resumes on Monday. So they are jumping pretty fast on getting people film and commerical work.

That's good. I then head off to the Jam and party six years here in San Francisco.

Got a call from JP. He always makes me smile when I talk to him. Why he is calling me at the Finale of the The Biggest Deal in Improv this month is beyond me. But I love him. He is glowing through the phone. I could never accomplish what him and the crew does.

Ever. Nor, do I really think I want to. I'm too high strung already.

I love San Francisco and miss home all at the same time. If he ever said the word...I would move back home....

Let him move out there for a month to set up...fool around with some chick twenty years his junior and have him contemplate leaving my black ass here...

...and i would be cool with that. Would serve my dumb ass right.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Nope. Not comfortable with that

Maybe its a San Francisco thing. Maybe its a California thing. But I just got off the phone with The Management Guy. We are chit chatting and he asks me if we can meet on Wednesday instead of Tuesday for some full on face time. I'm all "Wednesday is fine by me...I can send you my headshot and resume via email first"

And he says. That's great. "I would like to invite you to my home for dinner."

Nope. Not comfortable with that. Not comfortable with that *at all* So I very happily say "Oh you don't have to cook me dinner...you can just TAKE ME OUT TO DINNER" He asks if I know of Jillian's. I say (with re-sliding this information in) "I sure do. Good food. Nice sports bar. MY HUSBAND AND I go there when we want some nice food before a movie.

I did the same thing to Bob with Read you like a book when he tried to invite himself over to my house to drop off a script. Instead, I told him to meet me at The Brainwash. A place that if he was really serious about me...he would meet me in a laundry mat that is fronting as a restaurant.

I'm a big girl. I'm sure I can drop kick most guys. I just don't want to even have a whiff of the idea that I would *need to do that*

Nor, do I need to have the whiff that I'm getting gigs because I might or might not be doing some guy. I already got 'ho' rep doing guys who can do nothing for me. I really don't need the whiff of people thinking I'm now doing guys *who can*

Starfucking aint my thang.

He did invite me to a meeting next week with SPF7 and their projects. I'm cool with that. I will be surrounded by people I know and its much more of a meeting possibility than a house one on one.

I will go to this man's house on my own when I get to know him better and we are cool. Right now. Take me Jillian's in the Metreon and we can talk all things Alliance. And me.

That I'm comfortable with right now. Thank god he is cool about it.

======================================================

I woke up this morning with the sun on my face. Hans is kind of a cave guy and keeps the shades drawn. I lifted up the blinds since he has been gone and was awaken by a beautiful morning.

It is like Nirvana out here today. Just like it was May Day of 2000 when I moved here.

I would be great to have it like this all month like it was six years ago.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Improv Pictures and the Algonquin Round Table.

I just got back from the Monday Night Make Em Ups. I check my emails and there are a ton of them. I love when you spend most of the day just chilling thinking its a slow day...and you get a ton of emails at midnight. Actors. Got to love em.

A picture from HWFM JB:

Sarah Delaney, Victor Spiegel (Musician), Shaun Landry, Ken Robertson, Scott Keck, and Jill Bourque (Host). with Kelly and Marcia (I played Marcia).

The forwarded email reads from Kelly: We really enjoyed the whole evening. You've got a very talented team. They made everyone laugh without making Marcia & I feel like we were being "laughed at". We've already told friends what a great time we had.

I have no idea if I'm doing a good show anymore. I need to get back in touch.

Email from a woman auditioning for Oui Be Negroes who I guess I met at the Amex Commercial Shoot. She emails me and tells me the commercial is out. No damn idea. No clue. No idea I'm even in it. I guess I have to find it online or something.

Email from Slap Happy's Sister. She is all over Sacramento. Need to see what she wants.

Email from Unscripted Sexy HWFM girl. Wonder about The Supers. It's on for Late Night. In the new Late Night Venue.

Email of Press release of the studies of love and improv. Don't know why I got it...but it was a cool release.

=======================================================

I get to the venue area around 7:30ish. I'm a little flush from being paid...so I head out early to eat at Max. I get there? They are closed. A big sign in the window saying "Due to the Immigrant Protest we are closed today". I should have known. Most of the music I heard in the front was by Jewish artists. the back room music was all Mexican Salsa. So, I head across the street to the Sushi Boat. They are open. Right now? The Japanese are not targets by this country.

I fill up with Sushi and plum wine and head over to the jam. There is the new marquee outside. It is huge, and looks super professional. Once I figure downloading the cell phone camera, I will put it up online. You can see this thing a block away. They ended up pulling a big ass crowd of audience members *just from the sign*

The Owner seems really happy with the turnouts the last four weeks and came up to me personally to thank me. I just said "May I remind you this is not my fucking thing? You need to be thanking Joe/Jay. It's his thing. I just support it like anything else.

I get RM money for beer. first set a little slow. Third and fourth set was super fun. The second set was with me, Poster J, this guy who looks like a cross between David Schwimmer and Keanu Reeves..Chris Farley Boy and his slightly wonderful yet....a little challenged brother.

The challenge this week: Throw in a Beatles reference. After a few botched Beatles reference (songs just by Lennon...or not by the Beatles at all during other sets...god love the young) I came up to Justin:

I walk out to Justin as a prim Victorian Woman and say to him: "Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl...but she doesn't have a lot to say. That is why I'm here to read this letter of love to you."

I heard the elders in the place laugh out loud. It then became a lovely call back scene of me going back and forth to The Peasant (Poster J) and Her Majesty (play by Schwimmer/Reeves) of them creating new language to each other and my character just being clueless and frustrated with the courtship.

When I was smearing my finger in quill ink, writing a backwards three with a smiley face and Poster J smearing lamb feces and having me wrap the letter in goats blood to send back to Her Majesty? Me proclaiming very strong "She is going to HATE this message"

And one big group think of the rest of the people coming out and announcing Her Majesty's presence to the Peasant and him saying with his quivering lip to me Please read the letter:

And me saying "Backwards 3...smiley face" And her Majesty falling deeply in love with the letter and the peasant?

It was just too much for me to take. It was fucking awesome.

Just waiting. Waiting for the shit jam.

We head out to The Hangout Lefties. Kevin Spacey is there again! But literally all of the improvisers (sans RM) came out....so we grab a big table in the back.

It was the Algonquin round table. This table was all about improv and comedy and our hopes and dreams and laughing. It was also the type of set up that just screamed of having drinks that was not fruity. I ordered a Jameson's with a water back. It was hardcore Chicago.

Joe/Jay at one point pulls out his camera and takes a picture of this. I tell him to send it to me because this is the type of picture I want. It's a mini Historical Photo Shoot shot. And gave me the idea of what I want to do for the next shoot: The Cheers Cheering people with beer shot. With every improviser in town. At lefty's in that back room. It will ROCK.

We head out and say our goodbyes. Poster J hugs me and the wraps his left leg around me. He stands about 5'6 or so...so I say "Come on!" And he jumps around me and straddles me in the middle of the street like a child.

What is it about smaller men that is hot. What IS IT. Oh never mind. Me picking them up? That is kind of hot.

Pictures to come.

YAY. The best six year celebration. EVAH.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Anything that bleeds over a day should be dead: The God Request.

You know I will up to that stand up joke. And I'm a woman.

I should be dead right now. Some women claims it is the "Mystery of us"

FUCK THAT. It makes us fucking FREAKS.

There are poems and magical superpower like proses and menses voodoo rituals and stuff that makes what we go through a sound like we are magical and special and mystical.

I will only agree with one. Special. CREEPY FUCKING SPECIAL.

And then men turn around and call us emotional and out of control.

I will up to that too. Cuz lets face it. You would be emotional and out of control if you had to bleed from your dick and balls for seven days out of the a month and honestly think as you are bent over in pain from cramps: Please god. Kill me. This is day two. Why the hell am I still alive?

Today I prayed for Menapause. Swear to god ladies. Today *I prayed with all my might for Menapause*

Dear God:
First I want to thank you for starting me late on this whole bleeding thing. I really appreciate it.

But can you do me a favor? It's been almost 25 years now, and I had enough of the whole cleansing thing dontcha think? The hour changings. The three Alieves that no longer work. The massive pain. The salt cravings....

God? I ate 23 dollars worth of Sushi last night just to get Salty intake and my hands smelled like Roe for about two hours afterwards. Twenty three dollars god.

I really think this should stop.

I'm not asking for you to stop it today or anything like that. But a year. Two tops. By the way...if you can switch my cycle where it does not fall when I'm traveling, in the middle of rehearsals or performing...or have to wear white or yellow? That would be great.

It is a small request in a sea of important requests. Whenever you can get to it god...send me a sign. Or an email. shaunlandry@gmail.com. Don't send me a Myspace email. I don't check it often enough to respond back.

Thanks God. You're a dear.

 

[Shaun Landry]

The article came out.

I just read the Houston Chronicle Article on Massive Creativity.

Wow. A lot of facts on Del is wrong.

And I spent some time with this "Guy" on the phone...The Festival...improv..pumping up Massive...long form...and spent maybe fifteen minutes when he asked me about Blacks in Improv....

...and THAT is what got in. I guess it is still a really big deal in Houston. I just never knew.

I did an article a while back in The Boston Globe when we performed with Renegade Duck. I spent roughly three hours on the phone with the woman pumping the living daylights outta The Ducks before our show.

The thing came out? And it was the Shaun Landry/Oui Be Negroes show. In the article the only mention the Ducks got was "Oui Be Negroes...hosted by Renegade Duck"

Uggh.

I'll never forget Ms. I being terribly upset about the whole thing and sent an email to the folks...saying how they do not support Local Improv Theater...

...and the woman just turned what she wrote the following day into something where it looked like she was going after our group. It was fucking painful to read....

...but It was a jammed packed house that night. In the woman's attempt to bury the ducks? She just made people come out to see what was going on.

It's in the life section. Not entertainment. But its a feature...and if they can get some play on Long Form Improv from this? It is what it is, and I'm happy.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Three Weeks from being Ill.

Today I woke up at 11:30. I have just been moving the last few weeks and it was the first time that I slept past 9.

The Doorbell rings. I go to the door in my robe and its the mailman. He is talking to me in his thick Spanish accent. He kept ringing my doorbell to get the mail when he started and finally told him to just put the mail in the gate like everyone else and for big packages ring my doorbell.

I guess he now assumes I'm the "Mail Mayor" for the houses around me

Him: I can't get the key out of the lock next door!
Me: Well, This apartment has nothing to do with that apartment.
Him (desperate) *I don't know what to do!*
Me: (sighing) let me put on some clothes.


I get outside and he is going on and on about how he has been wrestling with the key in the lock for about 30 minutes....and no one in the house was there...and he did not want to leave the door open...

....he could not even finish by the time I took the key out of the lock that took me less than a 30 seconds. I hand him the key and said "Let me assure you...I do not want your job"...and handed him back the key. I get the feeling I'm going to get a lot of doorbell rings from this mailman.

And a lot of missing mail.

At least the mail I got brought news. A letter from Bob Zagone.

An Invitation for you & One Guest
To The Screening of Read you like a Book
Saturday May 27
11:00AM
Shattuck Cinemas, Berkeley, CA

There is a reception down the street at an Italian Resturant in Berkeley

So in three weeks or so? I get to feel sick to my stomach from watching myself for real in the first movie I have ever done where its not the back of my head or an eyeball. To say I'm nervous about this is the understatement of the year.

 

[Shaun Landry]

San Francisco Improv Community's Administrative Assistant.

What the Alliance does out of many things...is a resource for all things improv in San Francisco. So, I get a lot of phone calls during the days of people calling asking what they should see...what they should do...or are just confused about finding a particular event or venue. So, as part of being here in the office I become more or less "The Concierge of Improv" in San Francisco.

Today was different. Today I was The SF Improv Community's Administrative Assistant.

I get a phone call from some guy with an unknown name (Unknown Caller pulled up on the Call Waiting)

Him: Do you know about The Improv Jam?
Me: There are two improv Jams in San Francisco. Both on Mondays
Him: The one at Market Street Theater.
Me: That is The Monday Night Improv Jam at The Off Market Theater.
Him: I can't seem to find information on it.

This is where I start to laugh. Because if he knew about the jam? How did he get enough to know it was at at least "Market Street Theater"? One good Google search on "Improv Jam Market Street San Francisco" San Francisco pulls in order: 1) Craigslist Alliance blast with all the information 2) The Alliance "This week in Improv" on the Alliance Site with all the information 3) Comedyday with all the information.

Scrolling down? It even has the ticket service to *buy the tickets* Researching? Dead Art Form. This guy? Not the sharpest in the box of tacks. I'm now convinced that what I do is a vital service for the improv community.

Me: Are you at a computer?
Him: yes.
Me: You want to go to www.sfimprovcooperative.com for all the information on the Jam
Him: Do you have a phone number? I want to get a hold of them

The man is on the website. He is asking me for the phone number.

Me: You can call (phone) and the contact person is (name)
Him: Do you know if he is in his office?

...
...

When I used to be an administrative assistant I used to get phone calls from people asking for other clients phone numbers asking me the same question. As though I'm also the secretary for the entire world. I would get smug and say "If I was a mind reader I could give you the answer"

I smiled big on the phone. That offsets the idea of not saying the same snarky I used to do with companies that I did not own. I said happily: "I have no idea, but you might want to call them and leave a message if they do not answer."

A quick thank you and a hang up. I love people. Just love em. I hope that cat makes it to the jam on Monday. If he can actually figure out how to open his car.

Him: Hi, I was just calling back. I can't open my car.
Me: Have you tried your car keys?
Him: Not yet. I was wondering if I can get a number to help me remember which ones are my car keys.
Me: Where did you buy your car?
Him: Saturn Dealership in Modesto.
me: You might want to call the Modesto Dealership
Him: Do you have the number?
Me: No, but I can look it up online...(look it up) it's (phone number)
Him: Do you know if they will be in the office?
Me: Sir, you are missing the Jam. You might want to walk at this point...
Him: good idea. (pause) I can't seem to find my shoes...

Maybe he is related to my mailman. Who knows?

The day ended at Jillians with the agency. I swear to god he said six. I arrive at 5:50. I order a Cosmo. By 6:15? I was on Cosmo two eating Calmari and pissed.

Even the waitresses were feeling sorry for my ass. She even said to BS: WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU! She got a twenty percent tip. Forced by me.

It is all so fucking surreal. I spent most of my time *pumping up other improvisers*. He finally just got exhausted and said "Shaun, you are a rock star for other people. When are you going to be a rock star for you?"

So I just let him talk and tell me what I needed to do. He loves the headshots I have. He wants me to get digital colors...so I go in and get those done on Friday. I give him the info for the movie screening. He tells me there is no use of me getting an agent in SF...and he is going to send me on junkets with folks in Los Angeles. I tell him I have no want or need to move there and he says "Shaun, you are officially Robin Williams. You don't have to live in LA"

I tell him the things I will do point blank for free: AIDS events. Black Education events. Any Improv Festival in this country. I told him plain and simple with improv: "I'm on the board of The Chicago Improv Festival. Whatever JP asks me to do...I will do without charge. Hawaii? Free. Lowell? Free. DSIF? Free. Toronto? Free. And, I change my schedule around. Point blank. Simple.

Tell me where to stand. Tell me what to do. Take the 15%. Send me the contract. I'm all good.

This is fucking SURREAL. He walks me home. The calls from Hans land perfectly through all of this. It is wonderful.

I call Hans back and we talk about all of this. He starts telling me what I need to do. I tell him BS has it covered for me and he said point blank "For now on...I'm your second husband."

All so surreal. This is San Francisco. My life just went Quasi Hollywood in 0.2 seconds. Junkets in Los Angeles? GET THE FUCK OUT.

 

[Shaun Landry]

The Joys of My Grill

I have nothing planned today. Not a damn thing. No meetings. No going to the theater. Have not touched anything festival.

It is just me. My cat. And my grill. On a beautiful San Francisco day.

Most people when the signifcant other leaves the house? They become hardcore bachelors and bachorlettes. They eat frozen dinners and go out more than usual not to be alone....and trash the house...

Me? I don't want to funk up the house that Hans cleaned...and I cook. I cook and take care of the house the way I *should be* when Hans is here. Poor Hans.

Today, I was hungry. I'm still flushed. In theory, I should have walked down the street and gotten some BK or something.

Fuck that. Pulled a big chicken breast out of the freezer. Unthawed it and added lime and garlic to it. Took two of the corn of the cobs...wrapped them foil with butter, salt, pepper and basil. Went outside and put some coals on the fire and BBQ my lunch. Topped the chicked with Salsa..unwrapped the cobs and poured a glass of milk. Cleaned up the meal and now I got clothes and dishes washing.

I remember saying once to someone: "God I'm so depressed...I'm cleaning up the house"

Right now I'm rolling not in depression. But the idea of "What if Hans never came back" So much, that I'm pretending that I can deal on my own.

I told him this today on the phone. He laughed at me and then said low into the phone "Even if I died, I would never leave you baby"

Fucking Niagra Falls. I miss him so much. But right now I have the grill. And my cat. Homemade meals...milk...and a telephone that can reach to Florida. That will do until Saturday.

=====================================================

Meanwhile I get an email from BS with the management contracts. I just read those over. A year contract.

When I sign this? The conversation about BS and my career is over on this blog. My little bloggy blog becomes just a little more surface than what it already is. And I'm cool with that. I can only talk about the stuff I'm doing until it actually happens.

I sign it tomorrow. I guess my shit gets told to the world when it is released officially.

All. So surreal.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Checks and balancing

Phone call from RML. She grills me about the legitimacy of new place we are now on the website in "Talks with*

I can understand her worry. So, I tell her I will call the SAG office (of which I'm a member) and get some sort of lowdown.

....someone tell me why I pay dues to a place that is supposed to be there to protect me? And they cant give me any information whatsoever? I ask. They literally say "I have no idea...call the State of California and see if they are legitimate" I say "Don't you have a list of reccommended agents and management" They say "Well...we do, but its out of date and it changes all the time"

I laugh and said "So I guess me asking if you have the number for The Califorina Labor for talent agents is out"

and she says "It's friday. I'm sure you have a phone book too"

I pay dues. Kills me. Just kills me. Nice to know they are looking out for my best interest.

So I get online and look up the agency in the California Corporate Database. There they are. Active. Corporation number. Address...and it seems no revoked status or flags about the place.

Copy and paste that and send it off to RML

Next stop?

A call to the Los Angeles SAG office.
To complain.

 

[Shaun Landry]

Hopes Dashed. People Stink.

I spent today doing a lot of researching. A lot of it. Only to come to my own personal conclusion that I never listen to from start:

People are full of shit.

I called up the SAG office in San Francisco. (mentioned above) After them doing nothing but pointing me to The California Labor Commission


I then called up the Los Angeles SAG and asked for the Talent Agency Division. They are not registered as a talent agency...and, although companies that claim management status do not have to claim Talent Agency status, According to the new California laws effective next year? Management Companies have to register as a talent agency also. They also have a list of California Mgt. Companies.

Of which these people are not a part of.

She also looked up a company under the same name that was registered in Los Angeles that had its license revoked. She could not tell me if they were related or not. The LA woman told me: "My advise? Run."


I then called up The Talent Management Association in Los Angeles. Not a member of this organization. Their advise "Are you doing well now?" I said "I'm making out okay"...he said "Keep doing that. Call us up if you want a real management place, and we will send you a list"


I started to dig deeper by sending an email to this guy aksing if I can find out the location of the other offices...some happy client reccomendations and if it was at all possible to have my husband and our lawyer have a meeting with him. I stressed that this was not a disparging attempt at his abilities...I just want to make sure I'm protected before signing anything.

I get this back (paraphrased):


[SIZE=-0] If you want your husband in the loop then you can keep him there. If your husband has doubts then he should find you representation & management.
[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]
Sufficed to say the email I got from him is *squirrelly* to say the very least. He gave me no information or addresses on where his *other offices were* then the ultimatum hard sell with my husband, as though he can actually *intimidate me* into signing with him.

Uh...sorry baby. I lived 23 years without you. And I'm really happy. Thank. You. Very. Much. There is work at the Post Office.

The same guy who said on the porch I need to protect myself...And the same guy who said *he would be my second husband* at my dinner meeting with him.[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]I don't know. If he wishes to use the analogy of being like *a husband*...I would like to know where my husband's *work offices are*[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]Now I feel like a dumbass. Junkets? My Ass.

For not only getting roped in...but putting my personal reputation on the line with other improvisers. But I give him hope. Some sort of hope that he is a legit, good person.
[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]So...I kept digging. After SAG, The Labor Commission, CAA (Casting Association of America) and a call placed to the lawyers who did the happy improv talk on San Francisco? I'm a little pissed.
[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0] [SIZE=-0]Finally I call up some friends from The San Francisco Commerical Real Estate Agency (the place where both Hans I worked and were relocated here for), and asked about the Space and the company (according to the site) has gone into a *deal* with them for their *new location*[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]

[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]The company they are in *negotiations with* is a "Virtual Business Office"

Bascially you really don't have an office. You just give people the *idea* that you have an office in a prime location in a major market...and you can rent business conference rooms for clients. You rent a small room on the 10th and 11 floor of the place.

Basically if three people had a hundred bucks a month? Virtual Office Space.
[/SIZE][/SIZE][/SIZE]
[SIZE=-0][SIZE=-0]
[/SIZE][/SIZE]
I'm through. Completely utterly and absouletly through. I just sent off an email to this guy and declined...giving him all the people I have talked to on the phone ad nauseum for the last six hours...Bcc'ing and faxing them back by thier request.

...tell me why. Tell me why people fuck with your life and make it an annoyance? And tell me why they drag everyone I care about along with them.

ooooh DAMN I'm ANGRY. I'm too OLD for this shit.

I'm glad I did not sign a god damn thing.

People fucking stink. And i really, really hate the profession I have choosen right now.
[/SIZE]

 

[Shaun Landry]

New Negroes Hans Home and Harry S. Truman.

I woke up in a daze. It was 8AM, and the phone is ringing.

Alrighty. Who is cancelling out on this audition.

Sure as hell. It's some guy. He tells me he can't get out of work. I say "Okay". He asks if there will be other auditions. I say "Not until Next Year". I really think this conversation is over so I can go back and at least get another hour of sleep. Oh no.

Him: So...Oui Be Negroes. What is this about?

At this point and time? It is about a black woman who you just awoken out of sleep to ask dumb ass questions that you should know not only by the sfcasting blast of a month ago? But also the email I sent you and the link to the website.

"Improv Comedy. With Black People" I tell him.

Him: I have you heard of the the indy movie We Be Negroes by (some guy). Are you guys related to that?

Me: No I have not heard of it and we are not related to it. (slow) we. are. an. improv. company. With. Black. Folks. When did this movie come out?

Him: Three years ago.
Me: We have been in San Francisco for six years and performing as a company for twelve.

He then goes on for about five minutes about how great he is. How he is "The Best Improviser in the World" (that is a quote)...and all of his theater Mad Skilz.

I let him go on and on not saying a word. Then he finally stops. I wait a long time with that pause and say: "When you can show me how great you are at an actual audition? I will keep you mind? oooKAAY?"

Please note the oooKAAY. Inflected with low on "O" and high on "KAY" He mumbles thank you and hangs up. I'm through with crazy for a while. Esecialy after the last twenty forur hours. My paitience is thin. And I want more sleep.

I lay down and fifteen minutes later? Curly calls. He is stuck in traffic at the Ashby Station. Why in the world is he coming so early. But you know? That is cool by me. Curly is the most reliable of Negroes I have had in a long ass time. Sleepy over. Time to get dress.

=======================================================

I will never get San Francisco Actors. Ever. Twenty plus people confirm?

Three people show. The noon was a bust. It is around 1:15 and two very high maitenance actors are just pissed off at The Black Community and the idea of every sterotype being upheld. We get on sfcasting and I point to one actress with a very professional headshot...singing abilities and SAG.

I say to Curly. Bet you money she show up ontime and ready to go. Sure enough? she was there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. A little hope restored.

One guy shows up 30 mins late. Member of the Mime Troupe. We audition them and Mime Troupe finds great game fast....and Black Sexy SAG busts out with an improvised song. They split and we talk about them and make some base decisions before Hans gets back...

We start putting on our coats after the audition and *walking out of the theater* when a third shows up. ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES LATE.

For some reason? If *I* was running that late? I would not even show face at the audition. Would not even do it.

The reason was she said she was trying to print out her headshots...and then she showed me what she printed? She should have just come without them. Any place would have just said "I'm sorry...we are done with these auditions"

Shit. Give the lady at least some time. What the hell. Shit...only two out of twenty people showed.

So we did...and we threw off our coats and she improvised...then sang.

Goddamnit. God god damnit. She was really good. She was an hour and thirty minutes late. Both just wounded birds on the idea of actors who are just not reliable with time. Me much more so than curly.

So we get back to the place. He brough some fun with a vaporizer. I was too tired to partake in the fun. And I did not want to be too "funny" because Hans should be on BART right now heading home. And I want to be straight.

It's been more than a week.
=======================================================

I hear the gate. Then I see Hans outside messing with the garbage. He is home. Curly and I sing the "Hans Hans is home song" Curly does a little happy dance in the middle of the room.

We drink beer and he unpacks and brings me home lots of new clothes from Florida: Two pair of black jeans...two peasant shirts. A black short with matching top outfit...a beautiful yellow piece of scarf that can also be used as a sarrong...

And this sun dress. Blue on the top kinda African patterened...

WITH ORANGE GIRRAFFES ON THE BOTTOM. We of course start immediately making fun of this poor dress. Curly and I talk about teaching me tricks in the dress to make the giraffes look like they are walking, and grazing grass and all the rest. I finally put the thing on...and it kinda does not look all that bad. It's a nice dress to get a tan in somewhere.

Hans also brings home a cd of pictures from his mom and dad house. Incredible pictures. I just don't mean you basic ones...

I mean this is literally Historical Americana. His Great Great grandparents. Pictures from War World two with Mrs. Summers. Pictures of the wedding post war...His father in Military Gear. Shots ranging from 1900 to now.

They are incredible. I will post some soon. The most incredible scan that he got was a letter with an attachment letter:

The attachement was from Secretary of the Army Gordon Gray (1948-1950) written and signed to Mr Summers..

And A thank you letter regarding the re-unification of Germany from Harry S. Truman. In ball point ink hand signed.

This letter and the attachment letter has been sitting in a trunk of my father in law for years. *years* He has no idea the importance of this letter. I read it outloud to curly. And it is literally a play by play historical document by President Truman of the Four Sections of Berlin...thanked three of the quarters

...and the very blatant exclusion of Russian Quater.

Hans took it out of the Trunk and framed it for his father. His dad? ASKED US IF WE WANTED IT. Hans said no. He got online though to check out pricing on something like that....

Depending on the year of President Truman's signature...he found an envelope with is ball point signatrure going upwards to seven grand.

I cannot even *fathom* what this historical hand signed 1949 letter from Harry Truman regarding the re-unificaton of Germany is going for. They are trying to sell furs. And Harry S. Truman is in a trunk. Mind. Boggling. This thing screams Antique Road Show.

Curly splits and we snuggle on the couch. I smell him. He smells like his parents.

I. So. Don't. Care.