Hmmm….?
Hmmmmmmm… ?
In looking back at the past decade, I do not know what that means.
The 5 AM threats…
The farts on phones…
The GURUS…
The Ghost of Barbara Harris…
There is MEANING in this with a Jon Stewart FIST to this song.
Anyway, I’m so excited, I needed to push this goal of mine forward. I sent Grigorii a song list. He’s a concert pianist, so he can play anything, read any piece of sheet music. But I retracted it and told him I needed another minute to think. It’s a build like anything else. I thought “They Say It’s Spring” is a good place to start. I like that intro, it’s sort of personal, isn’t it? And the guy can really play.
Because of that, I obviously want to pick songs that showcases what he can do too.
Am I just trying to do a Blossom Dearie inspired set?
Yes, I am, I think.
Yet Michael Jackson fits, in my mind. PYT. Pretty Young Thing.
It’s more like one, two, three, four…songs… I have to figure that out.
I like this one song as a transitional song, Eyes Shut, Years & Years.
So I guess I know Blossom Dearie is in there, that’s in there, Ordinary World? As a closer? Or, I’ll Walk a Little Faster.
I don’t know quite how to do this, other than, let’s get into a rehearsal room with all these song to finalize the set. I don’t get the sense there’s anything wrong with mixing genres… I just have to think.
I can sing a purely Blossom Dearie inspired set. Barbara Harris, yes, her ghost, of course, and I are reviewing all this currently. She’s wearing thick framed glasses…
I also thought No Diggity bu Blackstreet, because it would sound cool on the piano, as it does. Dave Chappelle appeared to me and suggested it, but sort of in the style of Blossom Dearie, to do something different, and I think, actually, it could work. It’s the “bag it up,” right?
“I’m Hip,” I have to follow it up with that, I think. If I could make that work, it would be fun. Maybe a melody. I’m trying to think about this demo like that, so people have a fun time. Love is Like a Butterfly, I thought would be pretty in here, as I can sound like Dolly Parton.
“And I’lllll take you there! I want to love you, Pretty Young Thing!”
Pretty Young Thing.
And Michael Jackson sometimes, which Dave Chappelle told me in a daydream, he appeared, hilarious. I had to work on it… but I could, so I’ve been trying to work on my sound, obviously. I can sound like Joni Mitchell, too.
We’re going to record a video. We have to do small clips of a set of songs.
I jump the gun, sometimes, I know that. I’m anxious to get there.
This guy can really play, but he has a style, just like anyone else.
Like, he’d sound fantastic playing “I Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer,” he’d sound amazing playing that. He’d sound great playing Stevie Wonder, actually, but it’s not exactly in this range of songs, and what I don’t know if that’s good or not.
I think, instead, I might ask that we meet for another two hours, that’s it, and we go through a bunch of songs, so we can finalize a set together. Doesn’t that sound…sensical? I mean, I just met him once. He’s busy, I know, and he can really play, so I don’t want to lose him. It’s just that, to this guy, he doesn’t care, he can play anything, it’s like he’s been playing since birth.
I would just have to arrange the sheet music properly, so he can flip flip flip. I have to do that anyway, I guess, because I have a song list now. Oh shit, I have to go to my character improv workshop tonight. I don’t know what to do!!! Harris is jumping around in my room. Freaking out. I thought I should work on my Russian mother, Sonya, the year I was invaded by the Russians.
After I posted my latest video on Instagram, just completely hilarious, the psychic period, I thought it might be a good place to start to transition to having been in a sex scandal. Goddammit! I am not from another DIMENSION! My mother’s name is Dr. J — and I could start munching on garlic cloves, this bitch, you know, my mother, she wrapped me up in a goddamn sex scandal, and in the end, I’m a goddamn shaman! Absurd. I have to get to a set. DC appears before me now — trying to help me move along. “Move along.”
I gotta get to a set.
I’ve watched a lot of his comedy, I think it’s obvious. I’m not COPYING him, ridiculous, impossible, but he has, hopefully, helped me tackle this idea. I still have to work on pushing myself bigger… but I’m often in tiny audiences, I have to push through that. But I’m not bad, I don’t think, you know? I only started less than three months ago. You bomb, what are you supposed to do? You have shitty days.
“But hear me, the Russians asked me to lead a Ukranian refugee through a hallucination he had on the run from war… I did that!!”
“This mother fucker told me he saw the devil — word?”
I’m not sure if I can do that, as that’s Dave Chappelle.
“WHERE is the proposal of MARRIAGE?!!”
Just picturing him saying that, inspired by Cindy Crawford erupting at Austin Butler.
“WHERE is the proposal of MARRIAGE?”
And he’s serious. Dave Chappelle is serious. “WHERE…” coming around here, trying to date his 20 year old daughter. I back him up. I don’t need to say anything. I just need to stare.
I had a funny thought, because I’ve been playing around with “Head of the PTA” as a character idea for me — I’m inflitrating your school program, in aviators, I’m pointing the gun on a roof, aiming, “who’s this?” I thought he would make a good husband or someone in that universe. I’m running through an empty classroom and flying out a window.
I’m just giggling. DC would probably call me “a giggler.” I knew someone when I was young who reminded me of him, slightly, so he said that about me even fake hating me. “You’re a giggler.” Now, think, Dr. J. Now think Joker’s Daughter. I was a “giggler.” So, in a sense, Mr. Chappelle could play this childhood friend of mine, that’s who you’d cast, and THAT’S one of the only people who ever met Dr. J, oh yes… yes. And this scene between us was…so perfect. Just the way this boy, um, in the back of a Mercedes, even, dealt with Dr. J in comparison to the other kids that met my mother, and they were all White. Not the same. Derrick, my friend, he got me through this. Right when he said, “you want a Shirley Temple…” something, it HIT the table!! OHHHHH, he leaned out of his chair, at BUGGY WHIP, is it good? That was his question. He fell out of his chair…and did something funny at a diagonal.
Then, calmly, he sat back down, retrived his napkin.
“Should we get the asparagus?”
“So you’re a genius?” He asked her.
We were getting steak because that’s all Dr. J eats, sort of. Derrick was the smartest guy in our class, and I confided in him the most, so he — at attention — staring at me on the schoolyard, not knowing what the hell was happening between us — agreed to meet Dr. J after I chased him around school (lol). We were 12 and 13, and I loved playing around with him, poking him, we were ridiculous. In the end, he hugged me, that’s all he had to say. I was obviously upset. He was the only person in my entire life who was about to say something for me back in the car after this weird meal.
Like, hello????? Do you know Maria is here? I wish I let him, actually, but he respected my wishes in the back eat of this nice Mercedes. I just, hated that bitch. She was such a cheap bitch for blowing major cash on a stupid sex scandal. Dr. Joyce Rebhun.
He just came to mind, this boy who really reminded me of Mr. Chappelle, and I’m thinking about his work as I move through this comedy circuit.
So, I think I’m going to say to this pianist that I’m going to prepare a book of songs, and the songs he knows, who cares? We’ll run them. I need to hear him and me… is that fair? Just one more rehearsal? Before we record?
I gotta go find something to eat. Byyyeee