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

Shaun Landry · May 9, 2006

The Summers Family History

Hans had the day off from work planned and we chilled in the house. We BBQ'd and watched the Aviator and did married things.

He then gave me his CD of all of his family stuff to load into my computer.

And I sat down and figured...well...I can just label these and make em run historically by year...

And its one. I went a little hardcore. I skipped the Make Em Ups and worked on the very incredible family photo heritage of Hans Family.

Hans Family Photos

Some of the more incredible shots:

Grandfather Arnett Summers on his Father's Side baby Picture from 1900

Hans Dad Donald Summers Sr. on the Running Board of his Dad's Car.

Hans Dad WWII stationed at Wansee Army Camp Berlin.

The war Bride: Hans Mom and Dad's Wedding in Berlin.

Hans Uncle's Family. This was taken in Korea where they met. War brides seems to run in the Summers Family.

Baby Hans Sings! (1959)

I swear. If this picture does not look like the Kid from a Christmas Story. There is even a picture there from Christmas at the friggin Woolworths in Hammond Indiana. Where the whole A Christmas Story is based on.

Of Course his Christmas Story life went all to shit when he met this freak:

Me and Hans. At our Comic Book Store Hep Cat. he could not remember when this picture was taken...until I pointed him to the poster on the front of the counter. That poster was for The Underground Theater Conspiracy's Batman Died For our Sins. Outside of my horrible bowling ball fro (where I cut all my hair off to literally start again from the bad Gehri Cur I had) that would put it at 1989. I was twenty-four years old. He was 30.

There are some really incredible pictures that follow lineaeg of an Improvisers family lineage for (right now) 89 years. Including Pictures from a war, a police action, A letter from a president...and some of the best sixties clothing one could ever wish to see. Chicagoans will enjoy the Wisconsin Dell and Riverside Pictures.

More will go up soon. But right now? I just spend my monthly allotment of space.

Shaun Landry · May 9, 2006

Awesome Dumb Sales People.

Me: San Francisco Improv Alliance? May I help you?
Her: (Heavy accent) May I speak to Mr. Shaun Landry?

Now generally when I get this call I tell them the lopsided truth: "I'm sorry, there is no Mr. Shaun Landry here". Because there isn't. There is no man in here named Shaun Landry.

But this morning I'm all relaxed and feeling good...and I can take a sales call.

Me: This is Ms. Shaun Landry
Her: I'm looking for Mr. Shaun Landry
Me: Maam. I'm Shaun Landry
Her: No. I'm looking for Mr. Shaun Landry.
Me: (now laughing) Oh THAT Shaun Landry. I'm sorry there is no one here by that name.
Her: Okay...sorry for you time.

I look at the phone and its some ICS Communications. The Most Awesome Communications Place. Ever.

Sweet emails from people out of the blue and the day is started. Joe/Jay asks me where I was last night. I told him Hans and i had a John and Yoko Bed in.

Without the cause or the media. I have been there for four weeks straight. Sometimes to stay sane? You need to just chill and have a life that does not contain a stage.

But sanity is over. that was three lovely days with Hans. Just three beautiful days. Today he went to work and tucked my feet under the blanket.

I cried happy. I hope our John and Yoko Weekend Reaps some benefits.

Onion Steve is all over the party Hangout bar for the festival.

Today I lady who lunch with Moronlife.

Tonight I let MTV into the Climate to tape us. I guess I need to look hip for this. I talk to them about the festival and other improv stuff.

The goal: Just be happy. There was a glitch there for a day...but that will always be the goal. To be Happy.

And So says Mr. Shaun Landry.

Shaun Landry · May 10, 2006

Never Fret.

I spent a lot of time on the phone today with Curly. I told him that he was a wonderful improviser and great calming force and just the sweetest man I have met in a while.

And I told him not to fret. Never Fret over anything. He is young and attractive and terribly talented. And only fear gets in the way.

Fear kills dreams.

I don't think that will ever happen to him ever. I just have been saying it a lot lately to people who feel they will never make it...or what the future holds for them...or how to go about their lives and careers.

Fear kills dreams. I told him even the best planned ideas sometimes will not work out. That sometimes Fate gets in the way of dreams...

But you can always hold your head up high and at least said you tried. And you tried all that you could. And Fear did not get in the way.

Follow your head when it is the last ditch effort. Always follow your heart.

Revel in the accomplishments of others. Celebrate people making the world a little better. Find at least once a day praising someone other than yourself. Do one good thing for someone. Anyone.

Don't Fret. Our lives are too short and our worlds are small and fleeting.

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

Today I got the news on the new folks through the BATS process...and I'm super stoked to hear that Lisa and Mike got it. That makes me happy. Lisa is such an incredible joy to work with and that girl is just chocked full of Red Headed Talent.

Rock it in the free world. Great people getting good things.

Shaun Landry · May 10, 2006

Back to the Grind:

Awoken by Merkin. He kills me. I really wish I would not get credit for stuff I don't do. And to be awaken by it?

Hilarity. I tell him "Please attach this conversation to something that is important"

The videographers soliciting me want to charge 890 dollars to just shot *one night* of the festival... That's funny. Really funny. Thank you. No thak you.

The email regarding painting on Sunday for Pretty. Funny. Women. That should rock so hard.

The call from MTV wanting to do extra shots. That is Thursday.

Getting Waiting for Ennis and Warth and Todd's Info off to The San Francisco Theater Festival. The Alliance and the Improv Festival is official on two different stages:

The Stone Stage: 4:15pm
The Rock Circle: 12:35PM

I just need to figure out which stage is best for which ensemble....and make sure everyone is happy and promote the Theater festival with the Improv Festival and...

Then phone call from Quiet Imp. I love him. We decide a show between ourselves should be fun. Sorta Punk. With SPF7 Sammy while he is here.

It's been a fun morning. I love getting credit for stuff I have nothing to do with. It makes me laugh and laugh...

and laugh.

Shaun Landry · May 11, 2006

The Sutro Baths in San Francisco

This is becoming my favorite place to take people. It is wonderfully serene and beautiful with rocks and caves and the crashing Pacific Ocean.

My lady who lunch with Moronlife ended up going in his sporty sports car on Tuesday to the Baths. He has never seen them.

He is also a professional photgrapher (he did this thing with me on TLC playing a fake real wedding photographer)

He always carries his camera.

The Sutro Baths

Some of my favorite shots:

Inside one of the caves.

One of the many beautiful flowers that grows around the Sutro Bath Ruins

What the baths used to look like. This is a picture taken of a picture that hangs in my favorite diner Louis'

Faded Ruins of a great bath.

Me and The Pacific Ocean. on the ruins of the baths...

We then hopped the gate of the area they blocked off and walked down.

And we took our Titanic Flying shot. Look off into the distance at the rock with the hole in it. It will always...always look like love because of the heart shaped hole in it.

If I could just have internet connection? I would move my office here. Hell. I would move my world here.

Shaun Landry · May 12, 2006

The LaughterMath.

Today I most of my time with Curly. He was doing flyering for his show he is doing over on Mission on Sunday and I volunteered to help. I figured I could drop off some extra postcards and just make sure the ones by TBA were out there.

He arrives at 4:20. I'm already dressed for the show I'm doing tonight with The Laughtermath. I'm in hip black. Black jeans. Black cut off sweater top. Black Belt. Black Sneakers. Accented with the big yellow scarf on the top of my head and the one lone white earring. I'm Afro-Centric. Look at me being all Afro-Centric.

We drop off cards at BATS, The Magic, The Cowell and that whole Marina Theater area. We then head to his agent. I could have been more social and tried to snag some face time at this place...but fuck that. I'm too proud to beg. All the pictures downstairs are of kids with stars. A kid with Robin Williams...etc. So not into this. I suck at my own promotion. He grabs his own headshots (Because he is personally running low) and we split.

We head back to the house and I make a fast stir fry with chicken. Hans is so no coming out. He has changed and has fallen asleep on the couch. When I leave his face just looks tired. I kiss him goodbye.
=======================================================

After finding the cheapeast parking garage downtown (thank god it is less than a half a block) I get to the space. I get that vibe. That "There is so not going to be a house" vibe. the member of SPF7 are out and it is just me, Justin and Joe/Jay. We are named "Reverse Oreo" (see...THEY ARE WHITE...I'M BLACK..>GET IT?? GET IT??) by Joe/Jay and we decide on doing some deconstructive long form along with an Iranian Gay Stand Up in the middle.

The Kid comes with a girl his age. A jammer shows. Curly is there. The owner pokes his head in and stays.

The crowd? So, so Tragic. But fuck it. I'm here. I'm here to play. Lets do this, then drink at Lefty's.

Both sets were fun. But, I was completely unfocused. My improv hangup? Shooting my eyes into the audience. This night? It was all about shooting Curly looks. Looks like "Wow..no one is here" or "So you think this is funny". I shoot looks at the power person in the house. and this night? That power person for me was Curly.

But the seven people seem to like the show. And we got some incredible applause in the second round.

Off of my sick parlor trick of being able to pretend that I'm saying the whatever my partner is saying at the same time. I can do this dumb child parlor trick game...*without looking at the person*

This made me a genius to the jammer who comes who said (during the drinks he bought) "It was when I really thought you planned it out"

I told him it is my special parlor trick and he did not believe me...until he started telling some story and I started doing it to *him*

I'm not a genius. I'm just a skilled parrot. Who can do it without looking at you.

We head out for those drinks and the elevator stops at the Phoenix Theater floor. And in Walks Irish. His hair is all cut off. I think he looks great. It's awkard. We barely held a conversation.

...it made me really really sad. I head off to lefty's. He heads off to The White Horse. Just so damn sad.

We drank and I picked off of people's plate. We had an awesome waitress. We talk about long distance relationships...the freak Management guy...Ms. R is now taking classes there...and I drink a gin a tonic while some old drunk guy is wailing in the front and has taken over the piano bar.

I get praise again for the show walking out. It would have been great that there were people there for it. But with any new ensemble, even one as talented as this ensemble and group of people...that takes time.

Everything seems ground floor again. Ground floor after six years. It's scary. But it is good.

And Exciting. I try to believe in good people doing great things.

These are good people
Doing great things.

Shaun Landry · May 13, 2006

Improv Block!

I just finished meeting with Joe/Jay and Sweet Lamb just about everything. I gave them a lot of my contacts, media and just talked about improv business over bacon eggs and coffee. It was a really good talk and they are so energetic and gun ho and it just makes me so smile. It's nice.

That was when SPF7 Sam called. They also happen to be looking for new residence. The place he is looking at is half a block away on the same street I live on. So they head out for a fast second to look with him.

They come back with him. It turns out that the other place they were looking at is also on my street...and also had the opportunity to take a look at that place too.

I ask where on this particular street. They all smile and take me outside.

It is the building. ACROSS THE STREET. Literally. The new rennovated yellow building across the street. The one that me and Hans was looking at when the re-did it. the former people living there are putting stuff in the car and they wave to us. I say "Oh my god...these are my *friends!*

Their place is huge. I offer up my porch and washer and dryer whenever they need it. Great fucking god *how cool is this??* It is the improv block!

They are putting down a deposit on Tuesday. Just so fucking sweet!

This block is going to be one popular block from June-July filled with improvisers.

We head out and we walk around the neighborhood. I take them to The Climate and show them that. We walk past all the eateries...and the Brainwash...and the open community garden...and Tony Baloney's we stare into the space on the corner of my block in the windows up for lease. 3000 square feet of former Korean Community Center Goodness. Wide open.

I'm ready to call that number.

I really like these guys a lot. funny. talented. Smart. Motivated.

And soon to be living across the street.

Shaun Landry · May 14, 2006

I'm a very Important Black Woman.

This morning I get to the theater at ten. Magic Absinthe Boy promised me that the drum set I saw in the theater on Saturday would be gone for the No Nude Men Rehearsal and massive re-clean of the theater.

I get there at ten? The Drum Set is still there. My help? Nowhere to be found. Supposed to be there at ten? Not there.

So I strike the drums and put them on the Anon Side. I sweep the floor of the theater. I un-install the shit art that Flashy Light Guy has put in. I move monster speakers out of the way and prep the room. I turn on the worse Michael Jackson CD in the joint...

Then I lay on the stage exhausted. It is now 10:40. I lay on the stage of the Climate on my stomach and think "What the fuck am I'm going to do for this Pretty Funny Women Thing" I promised I do something improvisational. my one woman show FLAKE is just too long to shorten into ten minutes.

I then look underneath me. And I think "God, this stage needs to be mopped". Then I chuckle to myself. The No Nude Men will be here soon. I'm in my rat jeans and the cut off and now funky and faded SFIF 2005 T-Shirt. These people have never seen me non funky. Usually I look like shit head high in dealing with the Korean woman and garbage, Crime Scenes in the hallway...and cut out glory holes.

...I then realize what I'm going to do for the show.

Dress in the best cocktail dress I have replete with my red shoes.
Do up my hair
Put on incredible makeup.

And walk in with The Climate Theater Mop Bucket. haul it through the middle of the room. Wring out the mop...and in full on dinner dress after five gear and the mop I say:

Good Evening. My name is Shaun Landry. Artistic Director of Oui Be Negroes. Founder of The San Francisco Improv Alliance. Producer of the San Francisco Improv Festival, and Asst. Manager of The Climate Theater.

...I'm a very important Black Woman" ....and then I start mopping the stage.

From there I dare the audience on giving me any sort of topic that you think is theater related...and I can top that suggestion with something totally fucked up that has happened in the 22 years of doing theater.

It got laughs in rehearsals.

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

The Crew get there. I had no idea that Chris was in Middle School Poetry. We talk improv stuff and that is awesome.

Then a monsterous crew descends. A huge crew of professional theater people. They are like Angels with Hidden Wings. The attack the Climate Theater. One on lights repatching. Others fixing the scrim. Stu and Stacey in the back hosing down the backroom.

And Justin. This guy is just so wicked fucking hot looking it is just sick. Honestly sick how fine this man is. The kind of fine that falls into oh...that Stereotype Gardner/Pizza Guy/Cabana Boy sort of fine. And he is a carpenter. Sweaty and re-doing the walls.

Goddamn. Who IS this guy? He is attacking the walls with all of his equipment. Then he offers to build that long needed stair on Stage right to replace the trunk. God. He is hot.

There were about 30 people in there at one point just attacking the stage. The Nude Men guys are "Theater Munchers"...meaning they bring all sorts of noshy nosh theater things like chips and Hummus and fruit and bannanas and lots of bottled water and stuff.

At one point I was in the theater looking at all of them going over scripts and focusing lights and kissing and hugging each other and joking with me...

And I started to cry. I had to leave the theater for a smoke. And continue to cry, because this is *not the improv I know*

*This is the professional theater world that I know* At one point I turn to Light Man Chris coming back in and I smile wide and say "OH GOD HOLD ME"

And he just starts laughing and laughing. And hold me. I say "OH GOD I'M GLAD YOU GUYS ARE HERE."

They ask why there is no bumping downstaris. I told them they got shut down because they did not have an Entertainment Liscenese.

Never heard a bunch of actors cheer so loud. Then they started asking about the space. Magic Absinthe Boy (who had arrived and was just so damn tickled by the whole thing) said "The Space is Curse"

Stu said "So are we. Maybe we can offset each other"

That would be FUCKING CHOICE if that happened. Just choice.

I walk home after giving Hot Cabana boy Justin and another member of the company my address to get all this beer out of my fridge so they can have something frosty to drink.

I got a full rehearsal on Tuesday for Pretty Funny Women. I go up second to last. I was supposed to go up last...but that is just damn stupid...and the Two people who did the most organizing should go up last.

I will come dressed up.
With my mop bucket.

Because, I'm a very important Funny Black Woman.

Shaun Landry · May 15, 2006

FIRE

Minding my own business. Doing some work on the Festival site (now with online chat for reservations)

And then talking to someone for an article on Improvisation and legitmacy in theater...

And on the phone I smell smoke. hardcore smoke. Then I hear the fire trucks. I ask the interviewer to hold on...because now I see a slew of San Francisco Cops running in front of my house.

I head outside and there is a monster plummage of smoke down the street about seven houses down. Eve and Ray are peering through the gate...the cop screams at me "Get out of the house...and head down the street"

I'm wrapped in a purple blanket sarrong. I scream back: MAYBE YOU DID NOT NOTICE?? BUT I LIVE HERE!

He shuts the fuck up. I'm so not intimidated by police.

This house is on major fire. Right next door to a business dealing in chemicals. That is what you would call an explosion waiting to happen.

The smoke stinks. I head back in...say my good-bye's to the interviewer...throw on some REAL clothes, grab the cat container and my wallet just in case...sit it by the door and head outside to see what the fuck is going on.

Ray says "You know the tweeker's house"

I just sigh. All of San Francisco in my mind is loaded with Tweekers. I say "Jesus god. WHICH tweeker house" That makes him laugh.

Turns out that the newly rennovated blue building down the street was broken into a week back and Tweekers and homeless were squatting in it. And being Tweekers? Place caught on fire.

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

Back inside. Now all the newscrew decends on us. I talk with The Bay News while Ray gets on camera with channel two. Men are all dusty. I thank the fire chief of San Francisco, who is an incredible lady.

What a wild day.

Shaun Landry · May 15, 2006

yipes.

Shaun Landry · May 16, 2006

The North Star

I take a nap before the Make Em Ups. I'm pretty exhausted. I was ready just not to come...but I have Joe/Jay's bag he left at The Climate and I have to give that to him.

A comedy notebook is actually important. I understand this.

I get there and and Joe/Jay and Jew Fro are outside. We hang out and smoke and go upstairs. The crew is there. And the place starts getting packed around nine. Six random people show up from nowhere to watch. and there is a pretty large crowd of people.

I go up first. The challange is 80's references.

It is amazing who were children in the 80's...adults in the 80's...and folks who were not even born in the 80's. I throw out a reference to Eddie Murphy's Party All the time (dressing the stage in 80's gear)

I feel old. At one point sitting in the chair I think it would be hilarious just starting a scene at a funeral parlour and saying "This the the 5th funeral I have been to this year." and see if anyone screamed out 80"S!

Because it is close to true. Between 1985-1988 I went to four funerals of AIDS related deaths.

The Kid Midget did not even get the Teddy Ruxpin reference. No idea what the hell it was. This alone made me laugh out loud. Why the hell should he know? Kid is 15 years old.

I can say that this jam was not stellar. Not stellar at all. I realize some of the things that I hate about jams this week:

1) The Freaky Callback. I went up first and did this scene with doing a bet with Abe Lincoln where he had to be my slave for a week...and then the second group went up and literally tried to re-do the same thing. It was just fucking weird.

2) Breaking out of Reality: God. I hate that. I hate it with a passion of a thousand hot naked men. Great god almighty. I hate when people comment *about the scene within the scene* It makes me wince.

3) Inappropriate improvisers offstage: If you are not in the scene? SHUT THE FLYING FUCK UP. Stop making loud comments on other people's shit. Makes you look like a fucking retard. And with that? SHUT THE FUCK UP WHEN THE HOST IS ONSTAGE. I heard me doing it. I saw me do it. I saw me eyeball a group of improvisers sitting together hard and look at them like "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM". It is like Comedy Tourettes.

ugh. I have been waiting for the shitty jam. And tonight was it. With an audience.

The thing is? Those people *loved it* After the jam we head out and smoke downstairs. I plugged Pretty Funny Women and the guy who came with his lady stopped me and asked me where I was performing. I got a piece of paper and wrote down the address and gave him the 12 dollar discount..

He kept going on and on about how funny I was.

From another eye. Just smile and say thank you.
===================================================
The SPF7 Crew has a meeting. So me and Armeinain Boy head to Leftys'. There is a black man with a guitar that looks horribly beat up...but he ends up getting out of that thing the most incredible music.

He is doing blues on the street. He has a beautiful voice. He can play like nobody's business.

He's insane. It made me sad. Really fucking sad. I tell him to do a blues riff. He follows me and we do an improvised blues song. People stop and give him money. I give him a dollar. And in a moment of clarity? He says "You earned half of this" and TRIED TO GIVE ME HALF HIS MONEY. I looked at him and said "Brother. I'm flush"
=======================================================

I think the reason why I like to go to Lefty's at this point: People watching. Hardcore die hard people watching.

I walk into the place and Kevin Spacey is there. We now know each other. I really like Kevin Spacey and he just becomes more and more attractive each time I see him. Something about drummers and piano players and bass players....

...They know how to use their hands.

Armenian boy buys me two drinks. We hang out and listen to Kevin Spacey. He ends up heading out...but I have somehow made new friends with folks from Whales and Sweden. There is also a man from Arizona who keeps pushing me to sing with Kevin Spacey. Both me and Spacey are holding this shit off...because both of us know this is NOT MY SHOW.

I came here to watch this man play. That is the close second reason I like Lefty's. To watch this man play piano. He is just really good and plays my favorite Billy Joel song "Vienna"

Arizona starts buying me drinks. I dance with him on a 40's song (everyone there were roughly rolling around 60 and up) and he can't dance for shit. I start teaching him how to dance without yanking me around.

A girl at the piano bar asks for Spacey to do his favorite Prince song. What is his fave Prince Song?

Darling Nikki I TELL YOU WHAT!! My favorite Prince Song too! Nasty Fucking NASTY ASS SONG. We are belting this song together! I start GRINDING The Piano.

This girl is NOT HAPPY. The elders all sit down. Oh well. Performers choice song. So afterwards he plays Rasberry Beret for the straights.

Finally the entire bar badgers me an him to do a song. I'm a gin and tonic and a Cosmo to the wind. I ask him to do blues. Because no matter how drunk I am? I can kinda pull off a blues song. I preface all of this by saying I'm an improv actor who can kinda sing. Then I ask for the usual grip and some chick from the bar yells "MEN IN GENERAL"

Alrighty then. He does simple Johnny Lee Hooker riffs. I seem to get out this:

I got a mission.
I got a cause
To find a normal man before I hit Menapause.

This made the entire bar go up. I know my crowd. Over 60? Yea. Playing to the house.

I'm now tired. I have danced joked and watched the straights. The Mexicans danving with the Prince chick. The guy from Africa hugging the guy from Sweden telling him he loves him for who he is.

I got enough characters to keep me happy until next Monday.

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

I walk home. Clear night. The moon is out. And the North Star is in full view. I walk home. Head high, tipsey and sort of happy. People say hello to me. I chat with some guy walking me down Market street about his hopeful screenplay. I don't know where he came from? All I know is he walked me to 7th street and I ended up giving him my SFIA pen I got in the mail (those pens that you get with your company on it as an enticement to buy more) and told him to call me.

And there is the North Star. Taking me home.

This is currently the best life I have ever known.

Shaun Landry · May 17, 2006

I can't get sick

But damnit. I am. Goddamnit. I'm all clogged up. My voice is all messed up. And I don't really want to write about what is making me run to the bathroom.

But I'm a trooper. A stupid fucking Trooper. I have rehearsal with Pretty. Funny. Women....and then run across the hall to the first Oui Be Negroes rehearsal with the new cast.

After a relatively fucked up business day, only to be topped by the good news that the festival has gotten an official place to drink from the Onion and the newspaper article, I head over to the climate. I'm all stopped up. I just feel rotten.

That is until I get into the space. All the white walls...ALL OF them look spectacular. they are all sanded down and clean. I go into the art room by the Climate?

It is just beautiful. The hallway down the stairs. Scrubbed down spotless and beautiful. The hallways? It makes me cry. It just makes me cry.

I love No Nude Men. Every single one of them. I'm forever in their debt.

So they are rehearsing. I get there and watch Chris get into drag. He does this hilarious classic drag lip sync to a song in Spanish. It is hilarious.

The JP gets up and raps it out. Does a rap about Bakersfield California and Straight Women. Awesome!

Then I get up and do my thing. Ms N shows up for rehearsal while I'm onstage. I say during what I'm doing "She is the new Negro!" They all applaud her and she heads next door and I say to the room

"She is damn fine too aint she?" And everyone whoop. "Yeah man...Oui Be Negroes don't play when it comes to FIIINE women."

"God. I hope she is funny too" that gets a big laugh. I regale stories while I mop on Bergman (affairs in theater) and slipping in fake blood in bad Batman shoes when I did Stumpy's gang (costume failure in theater).

I then realized something at the end of it all. I got a mop bucket. at the end of it all I tug on my ear and walk out singing the Carol Burnett theme.

Then I run over to the othe side and rehearse with Negroes. We work out Wednesday Schedules online....we talk to Keating about pictures...we play a bit just to warm up. I put the seed in everyone's mind: Relationship scenes.

We might be bringing a cleaned up version of our Baptist revival longform back that interconnects a little more. they are hip on this idea...and actually want to see videotape. So we haul back to the house. Ms. N and Curly drop off at The Urban Market while me Hans and J head to the house.

She sees the picture of me from 1989 on the wall in The Chicago Reader. Now she knows why we look so much alike eons ago. It is almost eerie.

It's funny. Curly Hans and I promised no more video watching. But they wanted to see it. It just makes me laugh.

By the end of it all I'm so clogged up and sneezing it is just frustrating. I shooed everyone home.

I now got snot rags on my desk. I got a rehearsal tomorrow...and three shows Thurs-Saturday. Two sold out shows, and Saturday has seven tickets left.

This is just the worse time to be sick.

Shaun Landry · May 17, 2006

The "Wosh Whosh"

Oh god. I'm so sick. That kind of weird snotty "Everything is a dream' sort of sick.

My desk is covered in tissues and discared juice glasses.

And when it seems I need the most sleep? Is when the doorbell and phone rings. The day I'm the sickest is the day Hans packaeg he sent himself from Florida arrives. The day I'm the sickest? The ball in the toilet cracks and breaks and Mr. Fixit has to come and be all loud in the bathroom.

Or Magic Absinthe Boy informing me of the maddhouse the space will be in on Saturday as though I did not already know: My show. Santa and Leather's Party that he tied into the artwork on the walls...then the Sunday party with sixteen year old kids for this stupid MTV thing.

So I get up...because I know the call from Santa and Leather will immediately follow. Which it did. An hour later. Man has not even been in the space to see what has been done.

Then he asks if I want to *work* the sixteen year old party tending bar.

...
..

I make up a lie and I make it up quick. "I got a show on Sunday"

I could have just told him the truth: "Listen. At this moment I got crap coming out of my face that looks like Small Aliens. I got three shows at the space this week and by the time Sunday hits? THE LAST thing I want to do is try to keep children away from a bar for adults that should not be set up in this joint in the first place."

Ugh. I send him over to original manager to see if he humanly wants to do this.

Meanwhile, the festival is going to look like some sort of inside media blitz. Two professional still photography guys. Three camera videographer with editing equipment. The media room where it will be edited.

I just nod my head and say "Sounds great" I got to get into the space next week and start building with the tech crew, and re-paint that space.

And I got the word. My block will be officially the improv block. the boys are moving in across the street.

And I got a dear friend is looking at moving out here soon.

I'm sick as a fucking dog. But I rather be happy and busy like this and sick...

Than be sick and doing nothing.

Shaun Landry · May 18, 2006

Drag Queens are Funny.

I get a wonderful call from Miss Stacy. She knows that I'm a walking snot factory. She calls at 6:15 The call for final tech is 7:00.

Stacy: Gurrrl Why you sick
Me: Gurrl...I don't know.
Stacy: Gurrl
Me: GURRL..

The word GURRL went on for about a minute. We are just laughing at this point. She has no idea I'm picking out what I'm wearing for the show and packing up makeup for this thing. I tell her its cool and I just need to be there ontime for tech call. I just need that. It is that professional theater part of me.

I take off what I'm wearing (short black cocktail, lace black matching jacket, my leather silve zipper thigh high boots and my make up) and throw it into a bag...and head over.

Melinda is painting an outline of her lady on the wall with silver. It is wicked sharp. I get there and Chris is getting into drag...and about fifteen women are there being women for the opening of the show. There is talk of Oprah and other women. It's a good vibe.

I meet Madam Russia who is an opera singer. He is from New York. And he is really really from New York. Very attractive man.

The No Nude Men cast head over for a line through on the Anon Side. I get into my clothes and makeup while this happens. I walk out into the theater and everbody oohs and ahs. None of them have seen me dress up. Actors can really make you feel like a princess...and I have to just start taking the compliment without pointing out something horrible on me.

Madam Russia is sick also. We go into the bathroom and share a roll of toilet tissue and talk about improv and singing. He performs at this club that just won "Best Karoke Bar" in this year's Best Of in the Weekly this week and he is very, very proud.

I watch the first act of the show. Chris does "Come to My House" and cracks me up.

Julie "Fucking" Potter has cut down three raps into two

Then Madam Russia gets up. Oh my fucking god. He is not in drag yet, but great god almighty. The moment he starts singing it is not only beautiful...but it is truley hilarious. He makes these classic Barbara Striesand cross eyes. At one point I'm thinking "What the hell is this man doing in San Francisco? He should just move back home to the Village or something" If his drag outfit is anything like his voice and stage presence as a man?

This is going to be one grand outfit.

Then No Nude Men does thier piece. It runs sort of longish? But it is entertaining.

Break and more T.P I get apple juice from across the street in outfit. The kids across the street ooh and ahh.

I find the Climate mop bucket and get ready. I'm informed that The Final Dance number has been cut. I'm the last woman up for the night.

I don't ask questions. I just don't want to know what is happening. Chris tells me he cannot introduce me. He has to get into his butterfly outfit. That is cool. My intro is already pre-built into my thing. I just re-do the lights and have Tech Chris bring up any sort of music so there is not dead air.

Second Act.

Stacy Malia comes out in a nightgown and does a slideshow presentation on "Her favorite subject....me" It slideshow reminds me of Scot Nery. She was really not in a good headspace and restarted. But I don't blame her. She is producing this whole damn thing....and she is wired up hard on everything. The No Nude Men lead her in this Japanese Jumping Jacks to warm her up. Eight women supporting her. It was beautiful.

Next up is Eileen. She does character monolouges a.k.a. Lilly Tomlin. She has pull-away cloths. Strong and good piece. I watch it, so I have a general idea of when I need to be in the box office area.

It is now 9:45. I have been there since 7. In costume. I get the mop bucket. It is wet I think someone used it to mop before I got there. I roll the thing out and start moping a tiny part of the stage...and the mop stinks. Oh great god. I stop mopping during monolouge and did not mop the whole stage...but the mop itself?

Oh god. It stunk up the joint. I could smell it through my cold. I need to bring my own mop in and clean out the bucket today.

So I do two suggestions for time sake. I do the story where they hired Hans for this production in the stix of Chicago...and wanted me as his lead...but did not bring me in because they felt their audiences could not deal with an interracial couple onstage (The suggestion was Community Theater) and being on the Boces Tour and being stuck in Riverhead New York with Child's Play (suggestion: Children's Theater)

I remember standing onstage and saying: All that goddamn Drama. Jesus christ: IT'S FUCKING CHILDREN'S THEATER!

I got offstage and all of us at the same time went "God that mop STINKS!"

yeah. No fucking doubt. The last thing I need is to hit the stage with three sold out shows with the possible fear of stinking up the joint personally

And the LITERAL fear of stinking up the joint with that mop.

Overall? I realize this: Drag Queens are funny. Really really funny.

Pretty. Funny. Drag Queens.

Shaun Landry · May 18, 2006

Letter of Intent:

In my email today

Dear Mr. Okon:

I'm an improviser here in San Francisco. I do improv comedy.

When you do improv comedy, you find a lot of interesting and fascniating people who are just dying to offer you things that aint true.

One time I was told by a guy that he had monies to do this show? It turns out it was not only had a dime to his name? But the space was not his, and it seems that eveywhere this dude went? Shit magically dissapears out of the place at least once a year. Shit? That aint his.

I know this one fellow who claimed he worked with a crap load of people. that was until I called and found out that nobody knows him by actually calling. Surprisingly? All the people he mentioned in his stuff dissapeared.

Not more than a month ago? I got scammed into believing a guy was a legitimate talent agency. I'm still waiting for the cat to send me that email on exactly where his offices are located in Los Angeles and New York.

I walked to a theater that I was performing in around Chicago? To a sign that said "Closed by the City of Chicago Police Department". We did our show outside of the theater to waiting patrons.

This does not include the time I was booked into the Improvisation in Chicago and walked by to show a friend where we were performing and there was a sign in the window. A tombstone. That said RIP...and nothing in there but the poor guys' from Comedysportz Chicago gear. The manager's phone? Turned off. No one was notified.

I did a show in Chicago with a company that gave me a check. My friend told me not to cash the check at my bank. So I went to the Jewel and did it. My check? Was the only check that did not bounce.

On the reversal tip, I have given checks to actors so I did not have to hunt them down and said "Do not cash this check until I give you a holler"

Next day? Bank account bounces.

So you can probably assume that I have been through many many years of people saying they are someone...or have something, or promise to *do something*...and I end up more in the hole or burned. You are sending an email to a woman whose name is bantered about so often by people to get what they personally need in their careers thinking I'm somebody? It makes my head spin.

If I run up on one more would be promoter or agent who does their work out of a Jr. Studio apartment....

Basically what I'm saying is this Mr. Okon is this: At the present time I cannot help you out...because I think you are so full of shit.

But may I suggest a career in improv comedy. I'm sure somebody like me will respond in the hopes that you are for real.

Post around here. Use the screenname "Mr. Client Larry" Say Mr. Larry is the producer of Tina Feys new project...or you have contacts to open up Second City or UCB Nigeria and you need to deposit ten gozillion dollars into an improviser's account. That way, they can come to Nigeria to do improv under the Second City's name.

Someone will email you back with their name, telephone number, fax number, personal address and ATM pin number.

Send my love though to Mr. Larry and his dead Nigerian Family. I might send a card to his "Whole Family Wife"

Whatever the hell that means.

Sincerely,
Shaun Landry

Shaun Landry · May 18, 2006

Instant Mother of Two

Oh god.

I just got a call from my sister in Seattle.

My other sister seems to have fallen into really bad times (again)..

I really don't want to get too much into the details of that?

But she called and asked if I would like to take care of her two children (ages 13 and 10) for the summer...

...and possibly until they are grown.

As she is telling me this, The only thing I could do was look around my apartment and re-arrange the place to fit two children...

(in my head) I can build bunks in the back...oh god...I got to get rid of the liquor cabinet...Shit. Maybe we should just move. Okay...there is a my youth program I can enroll them in if they come down in June...June 10th. Oh my god. That is a week before the festival. Okay...I can't billet with two kids here...I can go and get improvisers to....

...wait a minnite. I got to enroll them in school. Maybe a good fun place they can go in San Francisco...

Smoking. I GOT TO STOP SMOKING.

Hans should be home soon. I need to spring this on him.

I have been wanting kids now for three years. All of a sudden I might have two. From the same genetic background.

I'm a little stunned, happy and petrified, and horrified for my other sister all at the same time.

Shit. I just don't know what to do. A few minutes ago the only thing I cared about was not sucking for this show tonight.

I wondered when I started this Journal where my life would take me before Christmas 2006.

I never dreamt it would be this. ever. Makes everything I have been angry about in my professional career?

Really. Really. *small*

Shaun Landry · May 19, 2006

I'm in my own Hell

Shaun Landry · May 20, 2006

Spontaneous Applause

When you are onstage and you are doing something and then all of a sudden you get this spontaneous rush of applause and laughter.

I stood there tonight and there are always two things that go through my mind when that happens:

1) Where the fuck did THAT come from?

then the realization Oscar Moment

2) They Like ME!

It's amazing how the worse day of your life can turn out to be one of the best shows I have personally done all year. A day so bad that washing your face from the crying just does not cut it...and you have to get into the shower to just clean off your entire body from your personal life.

I headed back to theater after dealing with Leather and Santa Hat. He is throwing shit around in a wild tissy. It is already unnerving...considering that Hans is with me, who has come home to deal with the whole Adoption thing. I'm just exhausted from the emotional roller coaster ride of the day.

But I talk to Ms. E and she says very calmly "Live for now"

And this is what I do. I fuel the entire day into my performance.

Grab a glass or red wine and a chocolate covered strawberry...get the wet vac out to just make the stairs look nice then get into the dress.

The last show I did was wonderful and fantastic. Tonight? A jammed packed house that just makes The Climate Theater a sweat box. Japanese fans are passed out...and it looks like a Baptist revival meeting in there.

Leather and Santa Shows up with his girlfriend along with Black Boa and her friend to watch me. They have never seen me perform. Leather and Santa looks at The Climate Bucket. He asks "Why is this here" I smile and say "My prop" He starts laughing loudly before I even get to the stage.

I get suggestions. I do the "Nazi Rhinstone Tech Hunt" Story of me doing tech in Chicago and ended up losing a gem in the engagement ring (suggestion tech in theater)...

The "Puppet Blood Story" (suggestion faulty costumes)

And then I'm about to leave the stage. And four people scream out MORE!

I'm all what the fuck. I so don't want to be a stage hog. They start applauding for more. I look at Chris in the booth and say "What time am I at?" He says "Girl fuck it and go".

So I get back on the stage and ask for another suggestion and I get "Understudies"

"Understudies? (long stare) WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??"

I realized onstage that I have never in my 20 plus years of doing theater had an understudy. Ever.

I don't know what the fuck happened...but I was pulling shit out of my ass like nobody's business. Sarcastic and true theater shit:

"Had a miscarriage? FUCK YOU. BE AT THE THEATER. Lady? You got cramps? FUCK YOU. Eat a FUCKING SALT SANDWICH AND COME TO THE THEATER."

This is where the monster applause came. It is like basking in some ego love that you can only get from a crowded room full of people with Japanese Fans.

I then noted that only high end theaters like ACT have understudies. And if you get into a show? You know that you have to clear your entire life. Because if it is a small to middle theater? You just know to do this. Because, you have to be there for every show no matter what.

And then I don't know how the hell I got into it...But I used the Climate theater mop bucket as its own theater company piece and stated. "You know if it was just this bucket? You could convince people to come out and see it...and they would see it"

And somebody yelled "You can get grant money for it too!"

And then I just became this snotty over the top theater person talking to the NEA regarding Grant Money For Bucket Theater.

"No...not Beckett. Bucket. We would start a program with this bucket for At Risk Youth. And Alyzheimers Patients. We are asking for ten million dollars."

I never heard so much laughter in such a long long time. I just want to take them all home and make me feel the way I do right now.

Because tommorrow morning. I will be off this high. And then reality kicks right back in again. On important, fucked up shit.

Shaun Landry · May 20, 2006

Starting to dislike firefox and the double posting crap.

Shaun Landry · May 21, 2006

Great Aunt Willie Mae.

The days just get crazier and crazier.

I finally talk to my sister in Chicago. The crazy one. The Bi-Polar one. The hoody one. She turned into the sister I remember when I was a kid. The pot-throwing sister. The beat person with roller-skates because they looked at her funny sister. The screaming out of control scary sister.

Something I have not personally dealt with in almost nine years. Our conversations have been surface. I had not talked to her in almost two years and the only reason I called was she found out that I did a movie with Danny Glover. That is the kind of relationship we have.

She calls me about her kids and taking them for the summer. As I have said other places and to everyone I'm all over this. Called up friends to enroll them in BATS. Had Little Man ready for Hip-hop and rap classes. Helena ready for dance classes. We wear the same size (She is a very large 13 like her aunt) and ready to dress her. Had people from ACT ready to come in and build really cool sleeping arrangements in the house.

All I need is to have her sign the temporary California Guardian papers that I have custody of the children for the summer. Because without it? I can't have the kids step foot into a class...more less a hospital without it.

And to be honest. It protects Lisa, it protects her kids...and it honestly protects me because without it...my sister is just a little nuts enough to say I kidnapped her kids without her permission if she every goes into a fit.

She emails me and tells me she does not think the father will sign the paperwork.

Then I get online and do the research. I email her back 'If you have full custody of the kids, Charles does not need to sign. If he does? Then yeah he needs to sign...and to be honest...if this was the case? Then why does their dad just take custody? That way you don't have to ship them cross-country...and they will be closer to her. Much closer.

No response. Instead I get the phone call.

The crazy screaming crying phone call with no logic behind it.

I tell her I need her to sign the papers. She then blurts that they have State Medical in Illinois. I tell her that is great...but the thing is...with their Illinois state medical or through my Kaiser Insurance...I cannot bring those kids into the hospital...nor can I enroll them in anything if I don't have official guardianship from her for the summer. This is no longer the 60's. This is just law.

She tells me that she called the state of California today. Then she realizes that it is Saturday and the State Office everywhere is closed. She caught herself in her own lie.

She then goes nuts. Screaming crying. Telling me "I don't get it” She blurts that "she" wont get HUD funding to get a home. She tells me "She" can't get money from the government. She tell me *she* cant write them off on her taxes.

Through all of this she never once mentioned her kids by name. Not once. I realize that she really thinks her kids are commodities. Or Ransom. Or puppies.

She is yelling and screaming at me. It is surreal. She stops and I think this is the part where she is taking a breather.

"Lisa. Please calm down. I'm not trying to do you any harm at all. The only thing I care about are the kids. And I love you. Love you more than anything in the world...you just have to understand logically that...

..Hello? Lisa. Hello?"

She had hung up on me.

I call her back and get her boyfriend's voicemail (because she no longer has a phone and I leave this message)

"Lisa. Remember the old phones for the 60's and 70's that you knew that you were being hung up on? I miss those phones. It was a really nice monologue too before you hung up. So when you calm down and breathe? You call me back. I would love to help you. And for me it’s about the kids. If you want me to take them? Think it over then sign the paperwork. I love you and I'm here for you"

And I hung up. I look at the phone. Yes. I'm through. All I could think of was that I wish I had a big Warner Brothers like eraser that could come from the sky and erase out that family picture that contains my sister.

Like a classic family portrait. And someone tagged this classic piece of artwork with a little penis monster. My sister? The penis monster. And I wish a professional restoration person would come in and fix it.

I call my sister in Seattle. And tell her what has happened. I'm really miffed. Forty-eight hours of family drama that ends in this. I *Cried* over these children. I started calling everywhere to get the kids situated and happy and the entire theater and improv community in San Francisco stepped up like Uncles and Aunts and extended cousins for my Helena and Little Man.

And it all boils down to the mother. The mother who’s only M.O is to think I'm a summer camp without the paperwork while collecting her welfare.

Where is the WARNER BROTHERS ERASER?

During all of this my phone boops. I look at the phone and it is a Chicago 773 area code.

With the name Willie Mae Jackson.

This is my Great Aunt. My Grandmother's Sister. She is 89 years old. She is the official Matriarch of the family. No one in improv has really seen me be the real black woman that I am. I sounded like my mother on the phone.

I say "Oh sweet Jesus"

Angel: What.
Me: That is Willie Mae.
Angel: (also turning into my mom) Oh dear god.
Me: God. I just know.
Angel: Honey. We all know.
Me: Oh dear god. I got to call her.

Angel then give me advise. Bad advise. You see. My rep in my family is different than hers. Angel is a mini Willie Mae...and I'm the honest missing link. I say things that no one in my family dares to say under the wonderful mask of comedy. Get them to laugh while telling the truth. Always works.

And I know what this is all about. I already know what has happened:

1) Sister hangs up on me.
2) Sister calls Willie Mae
3) Sister claims I want to take her children away and no one will help her.
4) Can I loan a thousand dollars because sister thinks Willie Mae is Wells Fargo. And Great Aunt Willie Mae has the Jackson/Miller/Landry Curse of helping people when they know they so don't deserve the help. This trait? Hereditary.

So I call back Willie Mae. She has call waiting. She knows its me.

Willie Mae: My baby. My baby.
Me: Hi Willie Mae?
Willie Mae (slyly) so what is going on?
Me: (laughing) No no no. The question is for you "What is going on?"

She starts laughing. She tells me she has been on the phone with Lisa. She claims I want to take her children away from her...I both Angel and myself have want full custody.

I then ask Willie Mae if she knows how to work a computer. In that old lady voice she says, "As soon as you show me the button to turn it on...I do"

This makes me laugh like nobody's business. I then get to my computer and read her emails exchanges. I read her the California State Contract. And I tell her "Lisa? Hung up on me."

I then read her the final email saying that she said that Willie Mae herself would be willing to give *me* money a month to take care of the children.

And before she could get out the word "WHAT” I said "Willie Mae. I just want to tell you this. I would NEVER. EVER ask you to take care of these children. Because that is the responsibility of the parent and not you. Baby? When was the last time I asked you for money?

Willie Mae: (Slyly) that would be never.
Me: You GOT IT.
Willie Mae: (Just laughing) girl. You never asked for anything. You are the only one. Never asked for a thing. I remember you called me once because you were so upset about joining that theater thing. That was the only thing you asked for. What you should do. And GIRL...you took that advise. I remember. 18 years old. You were GONE.

Me: Know why? Because I’m an ADULT. That's right. And I'm a married 40-year-old woman who would never ask you to take care of kids. Even if they aren’t mine.

Her: Baby. You are 40. You are just a wonderful grown woman.
Me: Yeah. Who still looks thirty. And you and old lady who looks 60's. Shit I don't have to ask for anything. Yall gave me good genes.

Both of us: Cuz Black Don't Crack.

We stayed on the phone for two hours. We talked about everything. From this fucked up shit to her promising me I will be the first one to know when her sister passes so I can fly myself home. I made her PROMISE me that I'm not left out of the loop with my Grandmother. I promised her I would give the most incredible Eulogy ever. And it will even be funny too.

I ended it all by saying. "When you talk to my sister (because you WILL because you know you need to close up your pockets) tell her first when she hangs up on me to rub the cell phone on a table or something so it sounds like she is hanging up. Then give me a call if she still wants to do it. But for now? My cheesy theater apartment stays the way it is"

The Matriarch of the family is cool. She knows what is going on. In her heart she already knew. But I think she just needed to hear my voice.

I love her. Warner Brothers Eraser does not touch My Great Aunt Willie Mae.

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

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

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Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

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Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn

Create improv. Avoid Porn