Infidelia: Une Princesse Guerriere

Biography Of A Friend

2012-01-27T02:32:00.000-08:00

Biography Of A Friend (At His Request)

A tawny wanderer.

Base and basement.

Drone a perfect sigh, warm me over with a knee to the heart.

Come, draping eyes over me,

Well, one on the wine

Oh, this is your light. See how it comes and goes?

The same as our brawn,

the brains along, along

though willing

And into the river

Alight alight twice again said

And lit

And longer in the tooth

Come and gone again

Upcoming Shows!

2011-12-01T17:48:00.001-08:00

In addition to what's listed, I'm always trying to get spots last minute, so you could end up seeing me anywhere! Support Vancouver's live comedy scene, and come out!

Okay, finally have set an ACTUAL return date for Amuse Bouche. Friday, December 9th, 8pm, Slickity Jim's! YAY!

Sunday, December 4th, 10pm
Stand up set
Comedy Rehab @ The Forum Public House
1163 Granville Street

Wednesday, December 7th, 8pm
Stand up set, song, guest in sketches
TITMOUSE! @ Kozmik Zoo, 53 West Broadway
https://www.facebook.com/events/208155009260316/

Friday, December 9th, 8pm
AMUSE BOUCHE @ Slickity Jim's Chat n' Chew
Hosting w/ Ian Boothby
Our guests - Ben Mills and Graham Clark! (Holy shit!)
https://www.facebook.com/events/290811574291354/

Thursday, December 15th, 8:30pm
Stand up set
Do Not Apologize Comedy @ Sorry Babushka
2095 Commercial Drive

Fridays December 16th, 23rd, 30th...
AMUSE BOUCHE!!
8pm, Slickity Jim's.
Weekly lineups TBA!
Best little bit of backroom, mic free comedy in town!

Monday, January 9th, 9pm
Stand up set
Blind Panther Comedy @ The Prophouse Cafe

OH BOY!

Love,

Hahnsy

It's A Beautiful Day For A Revolution

2011-10-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

I Occupied Vancouver today. Or is it Occupy Vancouvered? Here are some things that happened.

First we ate at the Re:Up BBQ Cart. Pulled pork and bacon with sauce and bacon...oooh...and some sweet tea to wash it down. After all, we couldn't protest poverty and hunger on empty stomachs.

No pictures of the food, it just got ate too damn fast.

This is my kind of drum circle.

We are protesting all kinds of things today.

They are smiling because I just told them that I will use the picture to prove to my out of town friends how handsome Vancouver cops are.

This woman is occupying some revolutionary shoes.

Waiting for the iPhone 5.

It was a VERY peaceful protest.

You can tell it's ironic because of how tight his pants are.

After I took this picture he let me cup his balls.

The soles of Darren's shoes are perfect. It's like he didn't protest at all!

Main Street Occupies Vancouver

The wind got pretty cold, so we walked down to Gastown to occupy Re:Volver for a while and have a coffee, but it was very occupied already, so we occupied the St. Regis hotel bar for a pint and a warm, leathery booth.

My favourite sign I saw all day said, "You can still be rich, just not THAT rich". Which I think pretty much sums it up.

Good job, everyone!

What I Am Doing With My Life.

2011-10-05T00:26:00.001-07:00

Whatever I want, no kidding. A friend and I were swigging whiskey into the wee hours at an art opening at Save On Meats the other night, (the air was full of pork), and this friend, who likes to get a bit loud and to the marrow of things, wanted to know my life's ambition. Immediately I said, "I want my own show." So we discussed ways of getting me to New York City to do it. It was exciting, and all future vision, etc. Over the course of the next bits of conversation I twice had realizations and further distilled my life's ambition, arriving finally at "I just want to do my thing." We both understood at the same time that I have actually achieved said ambition and am very happily doing my own thing. We high fived. It was probably four in the morning by then, so we ate the last remaining olives, swigged our last remaining whiskey, and swaggered on out into the Downtown Eastside night, elated with knowing we were in the right place, at the right time.

This is not funny.

2011-08-11T16:04:00.000-07:00

This is a dream I had last night, the one just before waking, and it has not left my body all day long. It came at the end of a long night of dreams of running from riots, of constant motion to stay ahead of danger, and keep my loved ones safe. Of hiding and watching helplessly as suffering and fire erupted all around me. I woke several times, but always fell back into the same dreams. The world, I think, is on fire, and I am feeling such strong empathy for all human creation. Plus, I'm working some of my own demons out. Here is the last dream before waking, and when I woke, I was sobbing.

I am an eight year old child. A black boy. My father is dying. He is my only protection and companion in the world. I lost him, but have found him again, in a small apartment, furnished only with the skinny, wooden platform on which his body lies. There are some remnants of clothing and some garbage bags strewn about the room, the walls are white, and there are tattered bamboo blinds on the windows, which are half closed. A flickering light comes through them, which is hazy, and looks like night, though it is day, because of the smoke. All around us in the streets there are riots, chaos, danger. The shouting and screaming never stops except for the occasional moment, when it seems as if all the souls are taking a collective in breath at the same moment. A small window of opportunity for reflection. It is in one of these moments, when I am lost in the streets and desperate to find my father, that a kind woman points me in the right direction. She tells me he is dying, so I think I am prepared, and she warns me it will happen soon, and I should go straight there, as if I would stop anywhere. Suddenly I find myself in a skinny stairwell, the walls are a dirty green, and the stairs were painted black, but are peeling and rotting in some places. Then I am in his room, with the smoky, orange light, and the flickers of all the flames outside making strange shadow plays on the wall. My father is under a thin blanket, and he does not look sick, but he seems to be disappearing. For a minute I am grateful to be out of the streets, to be somewhere where no one is chasing me, where the threat of violence seems temporarily far away, a background noise. He explains to me that he is dying, that he is on fire from the inside. Then he reaches into himself and begins to pull out his bones, which are made of charcoal, to prove to me that he is burning. I take a bone he hands me and it squeaks and turns to dust in my hand as I squeeze it so tight. I keep it in my fist as my father sits up and I throw myself into his arms, screaming and sobbing, “Daddy, please don’t die. Please don’t go, daddy.” Screaming in his arms, holding his bones in my tiny frame, hearing the squeaking of him as he is turning to charcoal dust in my hands. He holds me that tight, too, and my small frame is overloaded with grief and fear, and the feeling of imminent loneliness.

FIRST WORLD INVENTORY

2011-01-05T12:32:00.000-08:00

I just got a new camera. To replace a broken camera. It made me think about all the electronics I have laying around. I dug deep in my brain to see if I could remember what they all are. I am thoroughly disgusted with myself.

4 digital point and shoot cameras
2 Casios, both broken (second one bought to replace first one, which I dropped the first day I had it)
2 Panasonics, one broken (first one bought to replace the 2nd Casio, which I dropped eventually, second purchased to replace the one I dropped on Christmas Day)

1 digital SLR camera, working but complicated beyond my scope and needs

1 35 mm SLR camera, broken (would still like to get this fixed, still miss 35mm)

1 Polaroid Camera (I love it, but hard to find film now, also – not useful for recording comedy sets in any way)

1 Sony video camera (great little video camera, but only has firewire output, and my MacBook does not have a firewire port)

5 (!!!) Cellular telephones
1 LG Telus phone – still works
1 Motorola Telus phone – still works
1 Pantech Telus phone – my all time favourite phone, now discontinued, and wanted to use it when I moved to Fido last month, but it started doing weird things, and then Fido said I had to get one of their phones, anyway.
1 Nokia Fido phone
1 Kyocera phone – my New York number and hands down the worst piece of electronic equipment I have ever used.

1 MacBook Aluminum – love it and excellent, except no Firewire port
1 Mac Powerbook laptop – super old but good for running Final Cut Pro
1 Mac Mini – older model, hand me down and down – ethernet ports don’t work but otherwise solid

1 iPod touch 4
1 iPod shuffle 2nd gen
1 iPod shuffle 1st gen
1 iPod mini – broken, after being dropped

Seemingly hundreds of sundry cords, connectors and chargers for various things. Miles of ethernet and phone cable.

I think that covers it. I just wanted to lay it out in my mind, before I get home and lay it out physically and take pictures. It’s incredible how much electronic equipment I have amassed. This list doesn’t even include speakers, microphones, headphones, electronic instruments…..

The Anonymous Mask of the Internet and the Effects on Humanity

2010-07-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

I play Scrabble online. Live and in real time. With real, though anonymous, people. They are from all over the world and play at all different levels. The games are timed and range from 3 minutes per player to much, much longer. Though I tend to stick to the 5-10 minute range. Players have ratings based on their number of wins and losses and the ratings of their opponents. I am rated somewhere amongst the average player, I think. There are several players registered who play in tournaments and such, and are much better than I am, and also care more deeply about winning. You can chat with the person you are playing against if you like, though some players have settings that don't allow for chatting during play, so as to not be distracted. I had never considered setting my play so that I could not be chatted with, but something has changed in the last couple of months. I used to chat with people a bit, or not, and have friendly exchanges. I don't know if something has changed because I am playing faster games, or my rating is getting higher, but lately a number of my opponents have been very obnoxious. I have been routinely accused of cheating when I am winning, have been sworn at, and told to grow up when I suggested that winning wasn't the most important part of play to me. Well, actually, the exchange took place during a very fast game, 3 minutes per side, me with a rating of 1300 and them with a rating of 1500. (Usually the ratings adjustments are 3-7 points up or down per game.) It went something like this: (we are taking turns the whole time and it's fast, so there's probably a word being played every sentence we type)

me: (plays "then" leaving a triple open)
them: (plays "soirees" on the triple) You can't do that to a 1500 player.
me: do what?
them: open a triple like that. they'll pounce on it.
me: oh, well, it's a fast game, so i'm just playing.
them: you don't care about winning?
me: it doesn't particularly bum me out if i don't win.
them: you're an idiot.
me: i am just trying to get better at playing fast games.
them: maybe less chatter would help, idiot.
me: why are you so snide?
them: because it distracts my opponent and makes it easier to win. trashtalking is a big part of winning.
me: whatevs. i am winning at life, so i'm happy.
them: you can't win at life.
me: i can! i am!
them: you can't win at a game for which there are no rules.
me: i love my life, so i am winning!
them: grow up.
me: you grow up. nyah nyah!

This is just one example. I have been called a fucking loser, an asshole, a cheating piece of shit...I have been flamed with dirty names by someone who I wasn't even playing, but who was chatting with someone I had just been playing with who had been calling me names and got their friend to start calling me names, too.

These are people I have never met, I assume, and never will, I also assume. Probably we would never know it even if we did meet. I make lots of assumptions, because I actually get upset when these incidences occur. The assumptions I make are along the unkind lines of deciding these people are lonely, angry, dirty, smelly, ugly shut-ins who are resentful of all the beauty in the world and would like to drag everyone into their own personal little hell. I can see why so many people have decided it's better not to be chatted with while you are playing. I used to have these lovely conversations with people about where we were both from, the weather, sometimes philosophy...but I guess I got better, and now there are petty, competitive sadsacks who have one goal in life - to spread misery.

I am making an effort not to feel the tingle of anxiety and bile when someone I will never know is anonymously mean to me in text over the internet. It's not easy. But, you know something? Blogging about it helps. Is that ironic enough to be hip?

xoRH

The first snippet of many to come, wherein I begin to try to explain my childhood to strangers.

2010-06-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

As children we slept under wagons. When you are seven, everyone assumes you will think it's an adventure. And sometimes you do. But sometimes, even at seven, you think to yourself, I am tired of sleeping on the fucking ground. Sometimes you forget where you are and sit up when you wake up, slamming your forehead on the fifth wheel. Sometimes your feet are wet in the end of your sleeping bag, because in your sleep you can't control where your body goes, and sometimes it sticks parts of itself out in the rain. At night as you are drifting off, you make efforts to remind your body to stay under the wagon, where it's dry, and hope for the best.

Staying current

2010-04-26T13:57:00.000-07:00

Okay. I didn't blog about Brief Encounters every day. The process and experience were so joyous, I just loved being present. I will regale you. I'm running on reserve battery power just now and wanted to remind you that I have updated all my calendars and everything, so you can be sure that my upcoming shows link over there ===> is fresh and good. Come see stuff! I'm so excited about all the things I'm doing, and I think it really reads on stage right now. Rippin' it up!

xoxoRH

Brief Encounters - Serge and Riel meet. Riel gets choreographed!

2010-04-07T23:07:00.000-07:00

Serge and I met today. He is French french. I gave myself over to the universe and Serge started to improvise movement pieces for me. I won't give it all away, what we are thinking, but it's not like anything I've done before, and that, my friends, is why I am alive. Truly.

I have just come away from a conversation with a friend where I told her I think I'm grateful to be alive. And as soon as I had said it I knew it was true on a level I haven't experienced before. I am grateful for all of it, the good, the hard, the beautiful, the absurd, the pain in the ass, the pain, the pleasure. All of it. So rich.

Just being. Not waiting.

What a lesson. A thirty-eight year lesson. I am so intrigued by how everything will unfold. Like, for the rest of my life.

Travel gently,

Riel

Brief Encounters. And Passover.

2010-03-29T13:35:00.001-07:00

Today our partners in Brief Encounters were revealed! I have been paired with Serge Bennathan, a choreographer. We are slated to begin work on our co-creation April 1st, and will be performing at Brief Encounters at Performance Works April 15, 16 and 17. I am going to write a bit about the experience of creating a 5-15 minute performance piece with someone I've never met as we go, I am so intrigued as to what will happen!

I'm used to creating in short periods of time - I have participated in Theatre Under The Gun (aka Show Off Festival) several times, and it is always a wonderful experience. Not easy, necessarily, but so rewarding. And I am always so surprised and delighted at the work that comes out of it. Theatre Under the Gun and Brief Encounters differ in a few ways. TUTG is a 48 hour playwrighting festival. An inspiration package is received at 8pm on Wednesday night and you're off and running! The package contains an image, a sound bite, a prop and a line of text or dialogue. You spend 48 hours creating a 15 minute piece and perform on Friday night at 8pm. Amazing! Generally speaking, all of the pieces I have been involved with at TUTG have been created by people who know each other and work together regularly. Brief Encounters pairs two artists of differing disciplines and gives them two weeks to create a 5-15 minute piece. No inspiration package, total strangers! So I am not nervous about the length of time we have, but I am a bit nervous about whether Serge and I will be good working partners. I am wide open to whatever we come up with - a funny dance piece? I am already imagining so many things....ohboyohboyohboy!

Okay, I am off to make charoset for a seder I'm attending tonight. Lucky me making the charoset, super easy chopping! I haven't been to a seder in years. I kind of let all the Jewiness fall off when Poppie died five years ago. He was such a connection to tradition, in such a non traditional way. So it is very sweet to have been invited to another family's seder, especially because it sounds kind of loose...they describe it as a hippie seder. I'm gonna dress up, anyway!

Cashews, honey, apples, cinnamon, lemon...chop, blend, chill...eat and be reminded of the bricks we made while we were slaves. (nb, I actually have no personal memory of being a slave, and am pretty grateful for that.)

So...stay tuned for updates about the creation process, and possibly even some more short fiction. I've had a lot of words roiling around in my brain lately, likely they are looking for an escape route. Might as well be out my fingers.

xoRH

I started this tonight. Don't know what it is yet.

2009-10-30T02:17:00.000-07:00

This is an in between season. Something not quite autumn, with sun and crunchy leaves, and not quite winter, with snow and merrymaking. It is the blue season. A cavernous time of darkening and oppression. Cold rain comes down fast and hard. So hard that as drops hit anything they explode and become mist which then travels back up and makes having an umbrella a cruel joke. Storefront windows are fogged, people leave their hats on indoors. Suicides increase.

"Why don't you cheer the fuck up, anyway?" Barry's feet are on the coffee table and his sport socks, clearly worn for days on end, sag around the toes, giving him the look of a limp elf. He has your manuscript in his hands. He is reading it. Fucking douche. Didn’t you tell him not to touch anything?

“I’ll cheer the fuck up when you get a job and get out of my apartment, Barry. That’s when I’ll cheer the fuck up.” You feel good about that one, just a little pressure valve release, to keep you from killing him. From strangling your own brother. Sometimes imagining him slowly turning blue and his lifeless body dangling in your hands, sometimes this is the only thing that can put you to sleep at night. This has become worrisome.

“I never used to want to kill you, Barry.” Barry laughs, but his laugh ends in a little cough when you coolly take the manuscript from him and place one hand on his throat, squeezing gently. Holding on just long enough to make him uncomfortable. Barry’s face changes.

“Hey, cut that out. Fuck, Dale, that shit’s not funny.”

“Get out of the apartment, Barry. Go away for a while. Go to the park, or a movie, or go get drunk. Just leave me in peace.” Barry looks like he might respond, his mouth opens, then closes, like a fish. Barry’s stupid, fishy face stares at you.

“Can I have twenty dollars?” He is sheepish and arrogant at the same time. It equals out to pathetic, but you find twenty dollars and shove it at him. He mutters thank you, and goes. You think maybe you see him crying a little on his way out. It almost softens you, but not quite. You need the breathing room. Time alone. Close your heart, you think to yourself, it’s better for both of you. You hear the door close and Barry’s fading, thudding footsteps.

It is quiet. You realize you are gripping the manuscript so tightly that you have crumpled it. After staring at it for a moment, you frown, then scream, then throw the manuscript at nothing in particular. The pages mock you, drifting in all directions, spreading across the sofa and coffee table, fluttering peacefully to the floor. You hate it when Barry’s right.

Hey, listen to this!

2009-05-31T22:45:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty funny, actually, when Guy MacPherson interviews me for a second time on his radio show, "What's So Funny?". I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying listening to it right now!

http://www.comedycouch.com/podcasts/Whats_So_Funny_RHahn2.mp3

Cut n' paste, or go over to the sidebar and click the link.

xo RH

This is a short story I wrote tonight.

2009-05-14T23:38:00.000-07:00

It is a hot night on the subway. I am sticking to the seat. On my way to Brooklyn. The train does not stop at my stop this late at night. I have to walk several blocks, near the park and in a city unfamiliar to me. I am staying with a friend. She will be asleep, wrapped in the arms of her girlfriend, who is beautiful and fun but will later turn out to be a liar. My friend has had bad luck with women. I love staying with my friend. She is easy to be with and easygoing. She does not ask much of me or my time and happily intersects with me when we are both able.

New York city has the most jello available in restaurants of any city I’ve been to. At home in Vancouver there is only one restaurant I can think of where you can order jello, and it always comes in a tiny cup, with whipped topping, and always has a skin on it that tells you it is stale. And they never have red. It is usually yellow or orange, like those flavours are cheaper, always on sale. In New York the jello is fresh and comes in a glass dish as big as my left breast. Which is a D cup, so that’s a lot of jello. And it’s usually red, and they cut it up in squares. It’s cold and refreshing.

When I was a little girl and would visit my father in Montreal we would ride our bikes to his mother’s apartment on Wilderton Avenue. His mother, my Bubbeh. I wouldn’t realize until much, much later that her name was Tillie, I only knew her as Bubbeh. Her apartment was exotic to me. So many stories high, I thought only rich people must live there. You had to push a buzzer, one of seemingly hundreds of white buttons, and she would talk through a speaker and let you magically into her building. No one else I knew ever lived in an apartment. Houses of varying states and ages, cabins, schoolbuses, tents, shacks, domes, wagons, townhouses, co-ops…but no apartment buildings. We would ride our bikes up long hills along the side of Mount Royal and spend the evenings with Bubbeh. She would measure me against her blue chair to see how tall I had grown. She would make fried chicken and kougal, salad with iceberg lettuce and chicken soup. Always for dessert she would make me jello. It would be in this rectangular glass dish with a lid, always the same one. I would try to guess the flavour before we arrived. I hoped for red. Me and my father would sit on the balcony and watch the planes land in the distance against the sunset, eating the jello. I let the jello linger in my mouth, turning it back into liquid, sloshing it around, savouring every bite before swallowing. I tried to make the jello last forever.

I am sticking to the seat so bad in the hot subway, on my way home to my friend’s house, where she will be sleeping in the arms of her girlfriend. I can not believe it is so hot down here underground. A strange man stares at me, he looks like he wants to talk. An old woman fans herself slowly with a magazine. We are the only three on the car. I imagine the cool jello I will eat tomorrow, remember how it refreshes and comforts.

Pet Peeve

2009-05-07T02:28:00.000-07:00

When people use the word "trolling" when really they mean "trawling". I am a on a mission.

Proverbs

2009-05-07T01:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Anonymous: You and your wolves. Yeah, I get it about feeding them, but, you know, sometimes a starving wolf howls really, really fucking loudly. You can keep all the red meat you want in your pockets and just give it to the nice wolves, the happy, peaceful wolves, but sometimes the fucking howling, I swear, from the other wolves, the rabid morbid long dark night of the soul wolves just gives you a headache. Put in the earplugs and they start circling. And then you've got all these fat, sleek, happy peaceful wolves laying around, being fat and sleek and no help whatsoever, too fat to move from all the food you've been giving them, and the rabid morbid long dark night of the soul wolves just eat the happy peaceful wolves and then you didn't even feed them but somehow they've been fed and now here you are. And you gotta kick them out and start starving them all over again.

Choppy Seas

2009-04-29T13:46:00.001-07:00

I don't know what to tell you, guys. People lately have been mentioning that they follow this blog. Then I feel like writing in it more. Then I sit down to write in it and start it over and over.

I am curled inside myself today, feeling like every moment brings a new heartbreak. Or the visceral memory of an old heartbreak, made fresh again by my vulnerable state. Yesterday was not like this. Possibly tomorrow won't be, either. Today was hard right from waking. Had an appointment to touch base with my GP today, since I have been in an anxious place lately. I have a lovely therapist but she is out of town for two weeks. I thought it wouldn't be a problem, two weeks without talking to someone, but I am pretty shaky. Really vibratey and charged. I waited for my doctor for an hour. Sitting in the waiting room with strangers, holding back tears and crawling out of my skin. This sent me to a place of feeling so frustrated and disrespected, I had another appointment at noon. I decided to leave my doctor a note to update her, but while I was writing I dissolved into full sobs. She came out and I just couldn't sit around any more. Her solution to these things is to constantly ask me, "Are you sure you don't want to go on drugs?" I am sure. I am so sure. I know in my heart I deserve the chance to work my internal demons out with a good therapist, and that I can get through it without the awful numbing and loss of who I am that drugs have brought me in the past. I don't like days like today, I really don't. I am lonely lonely lonely and the thoughts are dark and violent. But I know it won't always be this unpredictable, and I abhor the thought of pulling out of myself again. The Celexa made me fat and slow and foggy brained, unable to wrench out of the torpor. The prozac made my energy unfocused and ramped up the anxiety to levels where the only thing I could do was spin. Medical solution? Sleeping pills to counteract the effects of the Prozac. Solution when left to my own devices? Smoke more weed, drink more booze, fall into a drug induced sleep. None of this strikes me as having been useful. So. Now I am sober. And it has been since March 28th no booze, and April 8th no weed. No wonder I am feeling all unbalanced, I know, and I am so so so so sure that it will all ease with time and tender therapeutic ministrations. Lord, if the mornings and nights were easier.

I feel so trapped today. And I am, I suppose, as we all are. Since I know that no matter how far I run, literally or figuratively, the trap is still around me, in the form of my own skin, my own brain. The loneliness really is new for me. Or, letting it be there is. The temptation to smoke or drink it away is huge, but I'm not into starting that cycle again. I recognize that it starts with smaller things, and that I am now in the thick of those very things. My house is a shambles, I have eaten too many things which are not good for me, I haven't taken my vitamins in days. I wish someone was paying such close attention that they would show up at my door with a plan to help me just finish these few tasks I seem to be skirting. Dishes. Pile of stuff I no longer want to be removed from living room. Furniture to be got rid of. Divesting and letting in air. I have gotten to a place of feeling unable to deal with it my own self. And yet, unlikely to ask for help. I don't even know what the help is I want to ask for. Mostly, I want to ask for a friend to come and sleep here. Get in bed with me and quietly cradle me. This, actually, is the hardest thing to ask for. I miss feeling loved and safe. Nothing feels very safe to me.

The flip side of all of this is that my work is amazing. My creative life has tremendous momentum and I can only see further opportunities and growth as an artist. Magic. And I am doing my very best to orchestrate my work so that I do not disappoint myself or my colleagues. Which means not getting involved in things which cause me anxiety, like stand up shows. I will sing and tell funny stories in a performance setting, but I can't call it stand up, and I can't go to many stand up shows. I am loving the improv, the music, the theatre. And any second now one of these auditions is going to pay off. It feels close. Writing still undisciplined, but the inspiration is there, and as my brain comes back to me in it's full glory, I am nearly unable to keep up with all the ideas.

Piano lessons, singing lessons, therapy...all to the greater good.

This particular portion of my journey is incredibly complex and magical and difficult and some moments I am wide eyed with wonder at the connectivity and serendipity I am cultivating, nurturing and even letting sneak up on me and surprise me. I know I am sometimes cryptic, sometimes overly poetic, but it is coming from me in cathartic bursts and I know the regulatory systems will even out and I am looking forward to deriving so much pleasure from the work.

I don't know if any of this makes any sense to you, but it's coming out of me in waves, and I'm just letting it.

Today seems like the wrong day to try to figure out iDVD and iMOVIE, but, sadly, I have a postmarking deadline tomorrow that requires I learn how to make this quicktime of me burn to a dvd. Sounds easier than it is. I will NOT throw my brand new beautiful computer off the balcony. But I might throw a dish. I feel like throwing dishes. I can really see clearly a lifetime of behaviours behind me driven by exactly what I'm feeling today. It is revelatory, and a bit frightening. Breathing. Always breathing.

With lofty ambitions and limited patience,

xo
RH

2009-03-19T04:09:00.001-07:00

Ich.

Seriously.

I wrote all this garbage and then erased it.

Do you ever have moments where you think that nothing you say is really worth the oxygen?

For someone who likes silence so much I sure manage to fill up my life with noise.

I wish I understood things better.

RH

Where and When I am.

2009-02-05T11:42:00.000-08:00

Hello!

Upcoming Shows -

MON FEB 9th - Chivana - 8pm - 2340 West 4th Ave. - Urban Improv unveils Nerdprov, I sing, Canadian Content does their award winning improv. Special night, free admission!

TUES FEB 10th - Kino Cafe - 9:30pm - Cambie between 18th and 19th.

THURS FEB 12th - Kingston Tap House - 9pm - 755 Richards, downstairs.

TUES FEB 17th - Darby's - 9pm - 4th @ MacDonald

FRI FEB 20th - Cameo - 9pm - 295 W. 2nd Ave

SUN FEB 22nd - Corduroy's Cafe - 8:30pm - 1943 Cornwall Ave in Kits.

TUES FEB 24th - Yuk Yuk's competition - 8:30pm, $5, Burrard at Comox at the Century Plaza Hotel.

FRI FEB 27th - FUSE at the Vancouver Art Gallery - 6pm til midnight - $17.50

SUNDAY FEB 15th - I will be a guest on What's So Funny, Guy MacPherson's radio show. Co-op Radio, 102.7, 11pm.

Things to see and hear:

This aired on CBC TV's Living Vancouver -
Bikini Waxing

You can listen to my songs here:
The Riel Revolution

You can listen to Guy MacPherson interview me here:
What's So Funny

You can listen to me guesting on the Justice Pals Podcast here:
Eric and Shaun!

Ta,

RH

Downtown and Me

2008-11-09T00:02:00.000-08:00

Hey, guys.

I haven't written. I know. You've forgotten. But here I am.

The reason I am writing tonight, after so so so many events in my life, personally and professionally, and so many events in my community, my country, my world....after so many events have occurred and I have not written about them here...the reason I am writing tonight is thus:

I was driving a friend home tonight, taking the downtown route from Kitsilano to Gastown, and we took Powell street to get there. Downtown Vancouver on a weekend night is a shitshow, I realize. I never, ever venture downtown on weekends unless absolutely necessary, specifically to avoid the possibility of gratuitous confrontation.

So, we are driving down Powell street and somewhere between Abbott and Columbia this thing happens. The street is packed with traffic. Lots of taxis, lots of people. I am in the left hand lane, Powell is a one way street. These two normal looking people, a man and a woman, are waiting on the street side of the parked cars to dash across the road to the nightclub across from them. We all do that, right? Wait to jaywalk by the parked cars. No problem. So I'm watching them, because I am totally not into hitting a pedestrian, seeing as how I am one most of the time. The woman starts to step out in front of my car, sort of hesitantly, so I honk, so she knows not to do it, because it will end disastrously for both of us. I honk. Not aggressively, just a short one, so she sees me. The boyfriend kicks or punches the car and starts yelling obscenities.

Okay. I have this thing, when situations heat up I like to diffuse them. It may be misguided, but I don't want that guy all keyed up and getting even more drunk and kicking the shit out of his girlfriend later, or yelling obscenities at the wrong person and getting himself knifed or shot. So, the traffic is sort of crawling and stopped at a red light anyway, so I decide to say something to the guy. I am calm and my tone is low and light. Which does, I'll admit, occasionally inflame the already irrationally incensed type of person. However, the friend I'm with, who's a bit of a loose cannon herself, starts yelling back at the guy. So then he comes back to the car and she's leaning out the window, yelling, swearing, and he's yelling and swearing back, and I just want him to know that I honked so I wouldn't kill his girlfriend, but he and now a new guy across the street are screaming, calling us fucking ugly cunts, telling us to get fucked....I was sort of lost for a minute, or my hand would have clamped down over my friend's mouth before she got word one out, but as it was it took me a minute to do so and the confrontation escalated to where I was scared of these guys.

It hits me sometimes, what an idealist I am. I like to think I can talk to anyone. And you know what? I usually can. After I told my friend she could never, ever yell at anyone like that out of my car window again, I dropped her off. I went back around and drove past the club again, vibrating with anger and fear and adrenaline and such severe sadness for what has happened to humanity. I don't know why I went back, I wanted to talk to the people, to the girl, and just calm everyone down. But I drove by, and the sidewalk was lined with people puking and yelling and jostling in line, so I kept going and came home, restless and sad.

I suppose it took me so off guard because I have encased myself in this little Obama bubble for the last few days. I have been so hopeful and excited and surprised and deeply moved by his election, and I guess I knew that to bask in the glow I would have to stay home. There is no going out in the world and noticing anything different.

I am so frustrated with people here not caring. No manners, no compassion, no thought for anything beyond getting drunk, getting high, getting even, getting fucked, getting fucked up. Cocaine and booze fueled thrills and damn the torpedoes. This insane sense of entitlement and anger about....God knows what the anger is about. PMS. Poor Me Syndrome.

Anyway, I am listening to the Talking Heads and Elvis Costello and trying to calm down. All this opening up to the world and being truthful and sensitive and having values and ideals....it just leads to heartache. But, you know what? I like it this way. I can not stand around and let my neighbours and countrymen fall irretrievably into apathy and spitefulness. There must be a way to inject compassion and kindness, mindfulness and engagement into the people. There just has to be.

Mostly I just feel so sad. There is all this potential in people, and they can't see it in themselves. How do I help them see it?

I had a tiny revenge fantasy that one of the guys, I remember their faces well, would show up in the audience at one of my shows and I would get to tell the whole audience that he was the guy who called me a fucking cunt and told me to get fucked. Sigh.

That's what happened tonight. I'm going to go write a song about it. I can't calm down. Maybe I'll watch "The Pianist" or "Dancer in the Dark" or "Big Fish". None of which I've seen and all of which will apparently make me cry. Or maybe I'll go for a run. It's been a long time, but I could see that calming me down. Now....where did I put my iPod?

That's me.

With love,

RH

Briefly

2008-10-02T00:40:00.000-07:00

Things are thus: I had the most intense summer. I was pretty low after getting laid off, whilst in mourning for my dear friend. But then, you know what? I just played music. I played and played. It has been so amazing. Recently another friend passed away, (what the deuce is going on in the world?!), and many around me are shell shocked. She was my age. A gorgeous, vibrant, smart, engaged woman. With the most incredible attitude, right to the last. Both my friends that died this summer were people who never took a moment for granted, who sunk their teeth into anything and everything they could, always richer for the experience. And always grateful for their time on Earth and with their people.

Where, you may well wonder, am I going with this?

Just here. I have no more time for second guessing or being afraid. I have been performing my songs quite a bit, and I think getting better. I bought a pretty little guitar I like with some of my severance pay from the job loss. I am taking guitar lessons from my friend Kevin House. It's the most joyful thing, to be spending time every day playing music. I can't believe this is my life. It is wonderful and magical. And a teeny bit scary, but that's okay, too. I played two shows at the Comedy Festival that just ended. I was booked for two nights, doing two songs each night, on the Rockomedy Show. I shared the stage with some of my most revered comics in North America. It was an honour, and totally glorious. I killed it, I mean really really killed it, and some pretty incredible momentum has come out of it. At least, my own internal momentum has picked up. I want to keep the movement happening so I am on the hunt for representation, booking a trip to LA in November, (got a free WestJet ticket, but that's a funny story for another time), and am making two music videos. The LA trip is because I can, because I have so many excellent friends there, because it's warm, and I'm hoping to be able to tack on some shows by rallying the fellas I met from there while they were here at the Comedy Fest.

The videos. I have asked my dear friend James to direct videos for two of my songs. (You gotta hear the newest one, "The Communist Love Song", it's my punk rock anthem.) We are aiming for getting it done quickly, but makin' 'em good. I am still thrilled at the idea of making a whole album, of course writing is taking a bit of time.

I was not allowed to film the comedy festival shows, festival rules or whatevs, but I do have this low quality video of me performing the week before the fest. The sound is not great, but it's proof that this crazy thing is actually happening.

THE LOW QUALITY VIDEO CAN BE ACCESSED BY CLICKING ON THE LINK OVER THERE ===> THE ONE CALLED RIEL SINGS LIVE!

Well, you guys. Well. Pretty chuffed over here.

xo
rh

Is That MY Voice???

2008-08-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

It has been soooo long since I wrote here. I got all backed up and then the more backed up I got the less inclined I was to write because of the backlog of information and then where to begin....

I have two songs now, that I have written, that I sing, that I play on guitar. I wrote the lyrics and the music. The songs are funny. The titles are thus: "You Gotta Be A Bit Bad", and "Communist Love Song". Though dates are not set for recording them, I am in the process of writing more so that I can record an album. CD. Podcast. Whatever. It's pretty exciting. At the risk of sounding trite, I believe I have found my voice. Performing songs is, without a doubt, the most amazing time I have ever had on stage. And I think that's really saying something, because I have had some amazing times on stage. I'm quite thrilled, really, to be so into it. I got my guitar for my 11th birthday, took lessons for a little while, and have remained at about the same skill level since I was twelve. Now I practice every day because I love it so much and you know what? I'm getting better! Practicing is improving my skill level! Who knew.

I'm really glad I have this in my life now, because along with riding my bike, (have I told you about my bike? Her name is Norma Jean. I'll post pix when I get home to my own computer. She's amazing.), along with riding my bike, playing the guitar saves my life. These are two things I can count on to bring me peace and pleasure. Good thing, too, because the summer of '08 has been a most challenging one. Well, it was the best summer ever right up 'til mid July. That's when Harry died. I'll devote another post to Harry, when I'm ready, but there is quite a void where he used to be. Broken hearts all around. It knocked the wind out of me. Two weeks later, lost my job. Remember how excited I was about getting that job? Well, I got downsized. Our business was pretty dependent on the American economy, and that's not doing so hot, so they couldn't afford to keep me any more. The ending was a bit shifty on their part, let me go with no notice, were douchebaggy about giving me my two weeks severance and now don't want me to apply for EI because they operate in kind of a shady way and my application will likely lead to them getting audited by Canada Revenue. They have been trying every tactic to get me to put the welfare of their company before the welfare of me. Which, by the way, is not a polite thing to do after you have dicked someone around a bit.

So I have applied for EI. First time in my life I've ever done that. Might as well. Same as how I might as well get a lawyer and get ICBC to settle with me, because they are being very, very sleazy indeed about a claim I made last year after I was injured in a car accident. Oooh, I am jumping through bureaucratic hoops like you wouldn't believe. But it's good, because I have always been prone to kind of rolling over and saying fuck it when things got hoopy, and this time I'm just going to be diligent and persevere and take care of things. It actually feels pretty good.

I have been experiencing an intense level of anxiety over all of this for the past few weeks, but I am working in a very focused way to get my breath back and make sure that I am taking good care of myself. With the exception of today when I ate too much peach cobbler at dinner. But I couldn't help it!! The peaches were organic and there were blueberries in there and the topping was all buttery and sugary and oaty....my mum makes the best cobbler. Anyway, if that's the worst thing I do to myself then I'm pretty on top of things.

Looking for work again, have a few interesting irons in the fire, don't want to talk about them until they are up and running or not. My mum says I gotta quit telling everyone what I'm going to do all the time cause she thinks it makes me not do those things, having set myself up with public pressure that way. She was specifically speaking to the album recording. The funny thing there is that I think she's right, and it's certainly a thought I have had before, but in regards to the recording thing, that's something I know I'm going to do. I've never really been inspired or excited in quite the way I am with songs. So cool!

Okay. That's a bit of an update. Feeling a bit bloggily rusty, so I'll practice getting good again, and we'll see.

Much love to you all,

xo
rh

Show

2008-05-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

I have a show on Sunday. At the Soho Bar and Grill on Denman at Davie, upstairs. 9pm. Medieval comedy death pit show. Hooliganism encouraged. As is attendance. Come see the show and tell me whether you think comedy is still something I ought to be pursuing. Cause I'm not really sure about it. I love it, and I looooove writing, but maybe it's a hobby? Maybe it's a road to something else.

All I really know is that I love riding my new bike, and I love reading books. Those are the two things keeping my feet firmly planted right now.

I'm cool.

The sun is out.

I have a lot going on. Possibly one of these days I'll let on.

xo

There's this cow, see...

2008-04-26T23:39:00.001-07:00

There's this cow, see. And the cow, it's in a doctor's office. It's sitting on the exam table, leaning forward, chin jutted earnestly, eyes bugging out, looking so worried and so hopeful and a bit desperate. The cow, it's got a huge cowbell around it's neck.

The doctor is standing there, looking so weary. He's holding a little hammer that you use to check reflexes, and he's tired, man. So tired. Don't forget, now, that the cow has this big bell around it's neck.

So the doctor says to the cow, with the weariness of the world, really, and he says, to the bell-wearing cow, he says,

"Yeah. That ringing in your ears? I think I can help you with that."

And that's the Zen lesson for today.

With Love and Gratitude,

Riel

Nerdsville

2008-03-16T19:16:00.000-07:00

A friend wrote me today and asked "...how's tricks, kid?".

Tricks are thus: I love the new job. I love that the restaurant is temporarily falling apart without me (I imagine them to be back up to speed soon, or operating at a different speed), even though it would be more graceful not to love that. I love my apartment. I love the way I've been looking lately, (specifically my hair).

I was sick in bed Thursday and Friday and because of that put my back out Saturday, (while shaving my legs, by the way. I'm such a nerd). Body says stop, brain has a hard time listening. Body and brain need to get on the same team. I have some plans in the works to make that happen.

Romantic life is so...so much like it always has been. Nebulous and changeable, and better ignored. I have new crushes all the time and they only lead to eye rolling and irritation. Comedy suffers. I can't do everything...(or everyONE, for that matter). Comedy really suffers.

Comedy is suffering hard lately. I don't know why. I think because of this disconnect between my brain and my body. I gotta get back in my body and out of my brain.

I am vibrating with anxiety most of the time even though, structurally speaking, my life seems to be going well. Worried and tense. I wake up sharply sucking in air most mornings, like something has jolted me. It takes me a minute to remember what day it is, where I am, what my face is for...

I am trying to book some time with a therapist, and I've booked a spot for a workshop with an Irish healer. Three days in April in Victoria. A friend of mine has been taking the guy's workshops and says it's no bullshit, just hard work. I think the most gifted healers out there are the ones that give you the space and safety to do the work, that facilitate the healing, as opposed to saying they will heal you. It takes some humility to be a good healer.

I'm hungry.

I'm going for a walk.

I'm okay, by the way, even with the anxiety. I am living with it and devising ways around it, which is what I think you're supposed to do. It's okay, to have anxious phases, and I'm better off not beating myself up about it. Just get to the root, dig it out, deal with it. Ich, that's what got me kind of tizzyfied, I guess. Getting back on the dealing-with-it train. Here we go, more work!!

xo

Title me this, Bookman.

2008-03-11T23:44:00.001-07:00

I figured something out. I know why I haven't been posting things much on the ol' bloggeroonie, (bloggerooney? blog-r-ooni?). It's because I'm greedy. I've been keeping all the good stuff for joke writing. I'm sorry to have to say it, but I redirected things...it's not you, it's me.

Or something.

But, yes, I figured it out when I thought of something funny I wanted to blog about, but then realized I wanted to save it for the stage, and I'm still going to. I'm pretty excited that I have some new things I want to try. It's been a rough couple of weeks with no shows. Makes me so testy. Looking forward to a few coming up. I hope I have the balls to do the new stuff I've been writing. It's not controversial, but it's personal. I'm pretty sure that's the best way to go, for a gal like me.

So. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you gotta come see me if you want the really good shit.

xoxo

Bisous

2008-03-06T22:44:00.000-08:00

I never knew how elusive comedy really was until I had it for a minute and then it slipped through my fingers and I didn't have it any more. I was queen of the world for a minute. A minute. I want it back. Badly.

I love my new job, by the way. At Invoke Media. I am feeling incredible relief that I am using my brain again. It's up there, rattling around, might as well put it to use.

Me and David Bowie, we're gonna spend some quality time together now. I hear that, Bowie. I hear that.

xo
r.

Update

2008-01-28T21:13:00.000-08:00

Here's a little peek at what's coming up. Come out and see me, I'm having so much fun! Writing lots and feeling kind of groovy, actually.

Upcoming Shows-

Wednesday, January 30th, LIME (formerly RIME), 9:30pm, 1130 Commercial Drive, $5. Always an excellent night of comedy!

Tuesday, February 5th, KINO CAFE, 9:30pm, Cambie Street between 18th and 19th Avenue, pass the hat.

COMPETITION ALERT #1
***Wednesday, February 6th, YUK YUK'S, 1015 Burrard Street, 8:30pm, $10.***

Sunday, February 10th, SOHO BAR & GRILL, 1184 Denman Street @ Davie upstairs, 9:00pm. NEW ROOM!!! Please come support it and keep it happening.

Saturday, February 23rd, THE WIRED BEAN, 200 West Esplanade, North Vancouver, 9pm, $5?

COMPETITION ALERT #2 (please note date change)
***Thursday, March 20th, CEILI'S IRISH PUB, 670 Smithe Street, 8pm.***

May or June - Breast Cancer Research Fundraiser - details to come. I'll be doing 20 minutes!

xo

Here's Something

2008-01-15T18:07:00.000-08:00

I am having a weird time. Money so tight, makes me anxious. Though someone reminded me I have been in worse financial positions. I have to find a second job. Sigh. Or a different full time one. I am at an interesting and intense crossroads. I feel like now is the time I have to choose whether I want the big comedy life or the little island life, as it were, and if I want the little island life then I can casually and contentedly go about my business exactly as I am, but if I want the big comedy life, well....the hard work starts now. What I really want is a month alone in a cabin to get some writing done. I am petulant about my job interrupting my creative life. Blah blah. You don't need to say anything or anything, I'm working it out, but it's a really strange time. I've never felt so unsure and sure of myself at the same time. Trying to plan long term, feel a city move coming on. I think my mom is going to sell the apartment this year, so I have to stop feeling like I'll be in it the rest of my life and start packing again. Everything is different for 2008. Especially me. I won't get into the incredibly intense psychic phenomena I am experiencing, but sufficed to say that I feel like my brain is open to all the energy in the world, universe and it's a bombardment of stimuli. I feel like I can see right through people's skin and into their hearts, which is minorly disconcerting. I think I am figuring out how powerful I am and trying to figure out how to be in control of that power. Talking talking. Thinking thinking. I need silence.

Shows

2008-01-14T19:25:00.001-08:00

Hey, you guys.

Check out upcoming shows....===>

And quit worrying about me.

And hire me for something.

xo
r.

2007-12-10T21:27:00.000-08:00

Sorry I left that terrifying picture up for so long. I have a little pin that says "occasionally disturbs people". I think it's appropriate.

I am on my chaise, (which sounds infinitely more luxurious than it actually is), listening to the Canucks lose to the Kings. I do NOT want a television. But, oooh, I'd like to be watching that hockey game right now. Even though we are losing and doesn't look like we'll be bucking up in time to make some goals happen.

The Canucks are not on top of their game tonight and I am wondering if it's a coastal thing. I am way not on top of my game today, either. And my customers and co-workers all seem a bit...glazed. Is it because it's Christmas? Ich. Festive hasn't hit me yet. And could I ignore Chanukah more completely? Well, I suppose if I hadn't written that sentence the ignoring would be more complete.

Yeah, Christmas. There has got to be a better way.

Too many parties. We, as a society, need to band together and agree to spread our celebrating more evenly throughout the year. This is too much. The enjoyment becomes sort of high pitched and has real intent. The whole thing just kind of grosses me out, to be frank. I might make some cards or something, and I might chill out about it once I get up to the country. That feels better to me. Watching everyone consuuuuuume like a pack of starving hyenas come upon a fresh ibix carcass. (Yeah, I said ibix.) What a gong show.

In case you were wondering I am fucking crabby today. Or sad. Or fragile. Or worried. Or lonely. Or tired. Or aching. Or furious. Depends on the minute. Anxious about this time of year, and trying to pretend I'm not. Or trying to trick myself out of it. Or not entirely realizing that I'm pretending.

Ah, I gotta turn off the game and watch a movie.

Sigh. Very tepid about things today.

r.

Booga booga

2007-10-28T14:45:00.000-07:00

Did you know I have googly eyes? I was looking at a photo of me from Halloween festivities last night and realized why people can never tell if I'm looking at them or someone behind them. I know I have a lazy eye, and I've always known that the more tired I am the more it wanders inward, but I didn't think it looked like my eyes could roll around independently of one another, in the manner of the classic children's craft material, googly eyes. It was a strange realization, but one which I think will serve my comedy well. I mean, I have googly eyes. I'm like a big puppet. Hilarious.

xo

check this shit out

2007-10-18T13:05:00.000-07:00

Just wanted you to look at the upcoming shows spot. Some really fun things coming up. Like Night of the Living Dub. This Tuesday the 23rd. Check out www.urbanimprov.ca for full details.

xo

Shows showers shows showers shows showers

2007-10-11T00:25:00.000-07:00

Why did I call this entry that? I'm weird. But believe me when I tell you it just sounded right. I didn't agonize over it for a long time, or anything, but I have this weird thing about purity in this blog and don't edit things. Uh...much. I'm trying to learn to trust my instincts. Important things, instincts.

Had a delicious and redemptive set tonight at RIME. I love that room. I always over prepare for it and then become inflexible because I practiced so much and then tank. But I loosened up and had a really nice time tonight. Every time I do a set that I like I think, "Yeah, that's the way I should always do it." But then it doesn't work the next time and I remember that every room, every show is different. It's very unpredictable....well, I say that, but then you do kind of get to know a specific room. Like RIME. It usually has a similar vibe, people come out to that show over and over, it's really nice there. But discerning, too, so I always want to do well there. I feel like that room is kind of a comedy thermometer.

Blah, blah. Anyway, I have some shows coming up.

Upcoming Shows-

Sunday, October 14th, 9:30pm, Checkers Pub, 1755 Davie Street. Good little show, come down!

Tuesday, October 16th, 9:15pm, KINO CAFE, Cambie Street between 18th and 19th Avenues, on the EAST side of the street. Good scene, huge stage.

Thursday, November 8th, 8pm, SYLVIA HOTEL, 1154 Guilford Street at Beach Avenue (right near Denman and Davie), $5. I do 10 minutes. Very fun night, great room.

Thanks, you lot, for all you do for me. I mean it.

xoRiel

Bow before the Earl of Grey.

2007-09-30T14:54:00.000-07:00

Hi. Head full of goo, can't hear so well out of my left ear. Working with the public and taking their money is very, very dangerous.

Wanted you to know I've booked some shows, so check out the calendar by clicking on the thing over there ===> that says upcoming shows.

I also wanted you to know that it took me a while to realize that it's not that I turn to this blog when I have no coping skills, but that this blog IS a coping skill. When I feel low, or confused, sad or lonely, there it is, waiting patiently for me to have a place to unravel the tangled up yarns.

So I have a kitchen table and the internet at home. Just in time for the onset of Gun In Mouth Weather season. (Affectionately so dubbed by Garnet.) Possibly this cozy little apartment will save me this grey and chilly time around.

Last night I dreamed about my bike. I dreamed I stole it back from a junkie. Probably more prescient than anything else. Since likely it's a junkie who has it. I've been walking home from work lately, it's kind of a good length of walk, and noticing all the homeless and cracked out people who seem to have really nice bikes. Too nice. We should just have free bikes in this city that you leave unlocked wherever you are and when you're ready to go you just take one that's close by. Save everyone all the tears.

Mm...back to bed with tea and crossword puzzles.

xo
r.

Oh, Audrey, I'll miss you.

2007-09-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your kind words of late. There is no doubt that, for various reasons, I am in a challenging time. Lots of good things and good times have happened to me and around me since I last wrote, and yet it seems as though I only turn to this blog when I have the least coping skills.

My bike was stolen two days ago. Remember my bike? The red one with a bell and a Detroit Red Wings sticker? The fastest bike in the world? MY bike. I have imbued the bicycle with too much meaning. I am mourning it for serious and couldn't figure out why until I realized that I have come to rely on it as a very pet or family member. That it represents to me an unconditional love, a trust, and all the things I have been working on and towards this year. Everything I have accomplished was revealed to me anew each time I got on that bike. Audrey was her name.

I just talked to my mum for 20 minutes, curled up on the bench seat at the coffee shop where I am writing this. Fetal positioned. I'm sitting back up now and my mum kind of cheered me up, even in the face of all this mourning going on around me. Not just me for my bike, but a lovely local woman died this week in a plane crash in Thailand and many of my loved ones are feeling the loss very deeply. My empathic ways are such that I absorb all this from the atmosphere around me and take it into my heart. I do not know how not to do that. I do not know how to keep myself for myself and not give myself away so much that I have nothing left to answer my own questions. I am currently seeking some kind of therapy and healing, some guidance so I don't have to feel like I have to make everything happen myself. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be pleased to hear them.

Last night I dreamed I was back in the hospital and it really brings into sharp relief how scared I am of the winter darkness and rain. How scared I am, really, of feeling anything, lest it undo me completely and I find myself somewhere I can not get back from. I am going to go walk on the seawall in the frigid, windy, sunshiny day with my friend's dog and see if that helps.

If anyone out there wants to just quietly hold me for a while, that would probably help, too.

xo
r.

Storing up my nuts for winter.

2007-08-21T20:43:00.000-07:00

Okay. Bouncing back. Not all the way yet, but had a cry and some sushi and a nice visit with a couple of friends. Still, though, a bit miffed that I actually have to feel things. This being a human thing, I don't know. Next time I'm coming back as a squirrel.

ow

2007-08-21T16:52:00.000-07:00

My horoscope said that today I would likely experience agony and ecstasy. Waiting for the better half of that to kick in. Who would have thought I could feel so low when the sky is so pretty?

I am down down down today. Totally waiting for the flood of tears, totally can't make it happen. Have considered throwing the bad art I've been making at something or someone instead of crying. Anything. I am twisting in the wind today, waiting for this blackness to pass. I guess that's the new bit of things in my life. Understanding that it will pass. I fucking hope it passes, cause my heart is crumbling into dust and that dust is filling up my lungs and making it hard to breathe or think.

I don't know how honest to be with you. I have been trying so hard to stay focused on my health, and the last couple of months I have really let things go to pot. Literally. I've been drinking, smoking dope, staying up late, doing too many things...it was fun for a while, but then I was on the hamster wheel and it just got gross. I have the feeling no one has noticed a difference in me, I mean, I go to work, I do shows, I get out...but this pain in my heart, I'm sure it's why I've been doing it. To avoid this very feeling right now. I have known that there was a love I would have to give up sooner or later, and when it was obvious that it was on the brink, I guess I didn't want to feel it. But now, today, after cleaning up my act a bit I can feel every goddamned thing and it fucking sucks. I don't even know how to get past it. It has been such a long time since I faced this particular kind of loss. Somewhere in me I suppose I thought that after my dad died nothing would be able to cause me pain, but lo and behold.

I am so lonesome right now, and stupidly sure that I will grow old by myself in this one bedroom apartment, get a stinky little dog and make the neighbours' business my own. How is this where things have led me? I'm keeping my fingers crossed that a good round of tears will be helpful, and, by the way, here they come. Good thing the internet isn't made of paper or this entry would be soaked.

I have to go and have this cry. Fucksack.

August gigs.

2007-08-15T16:31:00.000-07:00

Okay. I got it together to update not only my facebook, but also my myspace, so now you can click on that thing to the right there and see my upcoming shows. I'll put them here, too.

Friday, August 24th, 8pm showtime, Sawbuck's Pub, 1626 152nd Street, Surrey!!

8pm Monday, August 27th, Myles of Beans, 7010 Kingsway near the Edmonds Skytrain Station - I do 7-10 minutes.

9:30pm Thursday, August 30th, Howie's Bar and Grill, 2830 Bainbridge Avenue, Burnaby. Corner of Lougheed and Bainbridge, near the Burnaby Lake skytrain.

Will send you September as it becomes clear.

xo
r.

I don't know, either.

2007-08-09T19:15:00.000-07:00

Oh, hi there. Nice to see you. Just a second. I gotta get comfortable.

Hang on.

Getting there. Just gotta adjust this one thing....

Oh, who am I kidding. I am procrastinating further. No, not procrastinating. Trying to be funny. Sheesh, I am way funnier than that normally. Anyway, I don't feel like procrastinating, I'll do it tomorrow. Ha ha ha!

Since you asked....things are good. I think they are good. I mean, no, they are, but I am so unused to this business of structure and sameness. Some days I have pangs for a past life. Possibly a future life. I am keeping a tight rein on my very inner truths, trying to sort them out. It's getting easier to pretend to be in a good mood now that I know what it feels like.

I keep having this conversation with myself about wanting to do more, thinking I should do more, and knowing that the best course of action at the present time is to stick to the plans I made in the winter. It seems so easy to just let the momentum of things carry me faster and faster and just get overbooked. I remember that's what I've always done.

This week I decided, after a dirty good summertime vacation long weekend in the Okanagan, that it would be kind of like a vacation just going to work and then coming home and staying home until it's time to go to work the next day. It's been a nice, quiet couple of nights. Trying to decide whether to go out tonight, but likely I will crawl into something warm and maybe watch something filmish. I MIGHT do the dishes, but I doubt it. But I might.

Oooh, I feel a bit rusty in the writing department. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to publish this. I am. Even though I am fairly certain it says nothing of import and little of interest. But then I'm going to write a little more later. And then maybe a little tomorrow and the next day. Because that will get me back up to speed. Right now I feel like I have left blogging so long that the information just piles up and it gets harder and harder to sit down and figure out what the important bits are to let you in on. (I understand that that sentence was a grammatical nightmare, but I'm not fixing it.) So, I remind myself, sit down and write a little every day, it will start to roll out of you again, it will.

I think I might be sad, but I can't really tell, so then I think maybe I'm not sad at all and I'm just confused because living without a deep well of sadness in me is so unfamiliar that I kind of miss it. So, is it that I am out of touch with my inner self? Or that I am inner touch with my outer self? Confused? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.

xo
r.

Growing up.

2007-07-08T09:56:00.000-07:00

I am snug in my new apartment. I have planted flower boxes and strung patio lanterns. I have a squirrel that eats my strawberries. He picks one, takes a bite of the tip, throws the rest away. Greedy squirrel!

The inside of the apartment is less organized than the patio, but you gotta start somewhere. Most of the kitchen stuff is unpacked, since there wasn't that much to begin with, but the clothes and sundries remain flung about, half in bins, hanging on the back of the chaise, shoved aside to make a clear path from the front door, through the kitchen, to the patio. Priorities. Doing a little bit each day, but am on hold for the completion of unpacking kitchen and bathroom due to plumbers trooping in here each weekday at 8am. They are repiping the whole building. I'll be quite pleased when it's all done and the shower works like a shower and nothing leaks and everything is shiny and all my things can go in their drawers and on their shelves and under their sinks.

I love it here. Love it, love it, love it. I have been waiting for this for a long, long time. I mean, I have been wanting it, but maybe not working towards it as vigorously as I have been since the winter. Further to that, the whole winter business, you should know that I am just coming along tickety boo. Adulthood and I are having a nice time getting to know each other. We think it'll last. I've not experienced this before, a consistent good mood, waking looking forward to going to work, very little anxiety, if any. I am, I think, a bit relentlessly cheerful. I'm fucking thrilled to be inside it, but it does consume me at the moment in a way not unlike depression did. I am filled with wonder at how it is to just feel good. I am swimming in it. I am pretty much only interested in doing things that keep that train on track. The good mood train. I think it must be what it's like to have laser eye surgery. I bet you don't get tired of waking up and being able to see. I'm not getting tired of waking up pleased, of being able to see a different way of doing things.

I am going out now to get some coffee and maybe a pastry, and possibly a newspaper. I might get a newspaper and read it while I drink my coffee. Heaven! I can do whatever I want in whatever order I want. Cause I live alone, and it's all paid for, and I have a job, and.....!! Sweet. I am giddy, giddy, giddy.

I even like my thighs. Things must be going well.

xo
r.

Give me my face time!

2007-06-15T00:04:00.001-07:00

I'm sorry. Facebook has been taking me away from you. I'm trying to cut down, honestly.

Sexy, sexy French.

2007-06-01T22:47:00.000-07:00

It is hot enough to have all the windows in the house open and early enough in the season so as to still smell sweet out there. Lovely smells, from my neighbours' cooking notwithstanding, shinny in my window. Sweet sounds, the neighbours' children notwithstanding, do vibratto duty just at ear level. Hover there. Some sort of power tool. A child practicing the recorder. Another child shrieks, one wails, two argue. Mother's whispered conversations, "I don't think you should keep your story to yourself, Mel, I think you have to share your story with everyone." "Well, yes, I suppose I should." Strangest snippets make themselves clear above all other noise.

Anyway, it is hot, and I am in a fishbowl. New apartment, July 1st.

Hey, cleared the way to recover from some old mistakes today. Got something off my shoulders that was really bugging me. Am taking care of it and it feels very, very good.

Have noticeably stopped advising people of my every mood change or even the hint of a change, but now I think I am hardly talking to anyone. I talk to so many people at work every day, I am talked out when I leave that place. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.

There is suddenly the sound of an accordian coming from somewhere. Why is it that whenever I hear an accordian or fiddles I automatically think, "Those are my kind of people"? The circus.

The music is very sweet, wherever it's coming from, and it's making me a bit nostalgiac, and in need of a good country weekend. Er...a good weekend in the country. I have to practice being French, riding around in cotton frocks, a baguette and some fresh flowers in the basket of my bicycle. "Ring, ring!" goes the bell on my squeaky, red bike. I laugh and my laugh is made of coffee, croissants and cigarettes, and is unselfconcious.

I love the French.

You want cryptic? My pleasure.

2007-05-16T23:11:00.000-07:00

There is so much to tell, and so much I can not say. The spring is feverish.

Currently there is a woman cooing at what I hope is her dog, out for a late night once round the courtyard. She is coaxing it in high pitched tones into relieving itself, no doubt for the greater good, otherwise known as her carpet. I love sleeping with the windows open, for the movement of blossom scented air around me, and a cool pillow, but the sounds of a lady and her cockapoo puppy I could do without.

Really, it is harder and harder to write as certain stories unfold in my universe, for until the tales are unravelled, there is too much to lose. Great things are at stake, and in limbo, including my very heart, and my patience and good will, my compassion and rationality are being tested. There are many decisions to be made, but all things in order and in good time.

In the mean time, I have procured art supplies, to keep my fingers busy, books for my thoughts to be pushed aside, and a bicycle and helmet that I might keep this heart pumping and strong while waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You will know, soon enough, and most of you know something of it already. The stars and planets, they are aligning.

Me, I just work and write jokes. More jokes. Dark jokes. Dirty jokes. I am getting ready to take on the world.

Good night, my dears.

xo
r.

A mind that wanders. And wades.

2007-05-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

Sleep does not come easily these days, though mood swings abound, and the wolves they howl all night long. In and out of dreams, not lucid dreaming exactly, but near enough. Not controlled but vividly remembered and relived throughout the day.

The show. The show was good. Saturday night. Restored my faith, though rocked me for the week leading up. The nerves were raw, and my temper flared with frequency, though of late I am thinking that perhaps the coffee intake and not enough water coupled with unpredictable weather patterns and a love life that refuses to be simple may also be spurring the demons on. I have been snappish with workmates from time to time, though try to mostly bite my tongue. But the show. The new joke I wrote, which is what got me all excited in the first place, went over very well, and I told a joke I wrote last year but which I have not told that often, and I nailed it, and tagged it differently, and better.

Where is this all going.

There is certainly more to tell. I try, I try. I fall. I get up. I ride out the hard days, hours, minutes, know that things will not always be thus, in fact may change on a dime. And they do. Change. Yesterday so full of anger and sadness. Took to my bed after work and cried and tossed and turned, today was full of sunshine and I rode my bike to work then all around town, ringing the bell and feeling general good will. The back of my thighs are making the odd under breath complaint, as are my shoulders, but am looking forward to a better sleep.

Two nights ago I dreamed a novel, or a film, or at least the bones of one. It is very dark, and I am certainly mulling it over, brewing it. My roommate is away this weekend and I am going to spend some quiet time writing. Riding bike, drinking decaf, ringing bell, and writing novels. Sounds good. Possibly work some necking in there and call it a great two days off.

Take care of selves, do right things.

xo
r.

Little bug.

2007-04-29T22:27:00.000-07:00

As in, I think I have a little bug. It's been plaguing me for days, and I am logie and hollow eyed. I may have already said this. My brain is not with me. I don't know where it is. I wonder when it's coming home. So logie I slept through most of the hockey game. Back to bed now, for a long night's sleep, before what seems like a busy week, even though I can't figure out why I think that. A few things pushing ahead in the medical department this week, I guess, makes me a bit anxious. Oh, and the show on Saturday. Right. That thing. Sick feeling in stomach. Luckily I have very sexy new shoes and sexy shoes always fortify me on stage.

I will tell you all about how I am moving forward in the healing department, healing of the fractured mind, etc., maybe tomorrow or something. Meantime I feel like I'm hallucinating, like swatting things away from my face that I'm sure are not really there. Just on some other planet entirely. Okay, though, you know. Nervous, but not upset. Feeling good. Even when I'm not feeling good, I'm riding it out. Positive things. Scared but not scared. And, obviously, totally able to articulate it.

Shag it, I'll be back later in the week.

xo
r.

Knock knock.

2007-04-26T22:43:00.000-07:00

Hello, you lot. I am still here. Have moved away from Kitsilano and the untenable situation, into the cushiest living environment ever. It is such a pleasure to come home.

This particular evening I am home from a 13 hour work day, at my regular job and then bartending an event. My feet are a bit tired, and my eyes, but my spirits are good. April has been a very up and down month, lots of down, but lots of realizing myself and getting back to the basic goals I laid out for myself this winter.

I feel a bit incoherent at the moment, actually. I wanted to write something, to get back in the habit of it. But tonight may not be the right time. Perhaps tomorrow while the Canucks are getting their tushies smacked by Anaheim. I am loving watching hockey this year. Steak and hockey. So Canadian, so good.

I have booked a comedy show on May 5th. Nervous as hell, if you want to know the truth, but gonna do it anyway. Have to test the waters. Haven't booked another because I want to see how it feels.

Today, this moment, I am contented. And I have an egg salad sandwich and a cookie calling my name. I will make an effort to write more, I do miss it. Thank you all for your patience.

xo
r.

2007-04-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from a conversation over messenger with my friend Murray tonight. Happy Easter!

Dr. Rock says: Hey Riel

Hahn solo. says: inksta

Dr. Rock says: don't suppose you're blogging are ya?

Hahn solo. says: right now?

Dr. Rock says: since you're online and all

Hahn solo. says: um..nope...why...were you hoping for a new entry?

Dr. Rock says: well, far be it from me to complain. But I always enjoy a new entry

Hahn solo. says: heh. i liked your newest entry a lot.

Dr. Rock says: thank you

Dr. Rock says: It was rattling around in my head for a while

Hahn solo. says: it's only been since march 30th that i wrote one. how often are you hoping i'll write in it?

Dr. Rock says: I know. And your last post explained that it probably wouldn't be that frequent. Like I said, I'm not going to pester you.

Hahn solo. says: that last one was kind of serious, if i recall. i don't think it's a good idea for me to write in it these days....i seem to be writing a lot of, uh, racially, uh, controversial, material right now...

i have dug deep down to my core and found some things that are not that pretty there.

Dr. Rock says: racially?

Hahn solo. says: well, it all started when i saw this yellow mini cooper the other day and noticed that it was an asian guy driving it.

Dr. Rock says: ah

Hahn solo. says: i'm sure you can extrapolate.

then i got myself into a bit of a hole at a party the other day trying to explain why i thought black guys were better at high fiving than white guys.

Dr. Rock says: hahaha

what's wrong with that?

Hahn solo. says: the hole i dug myself into was wrong.

Dr. Rock says: hm

Hahn solo. says: because it was all white guys, so i think they were a bit sensitive about the slight.

Dr. Rock says: oh jeez. give me a break. it's only funny if it's a gross generalization.

besides, it's true

Hahn solo. says: yeah.

or the truth.

exactly!

it was problematic because my supposition was predicated on the theory that eye contact is the key to a solid, consistent high fiving career.

and i think that eye contact is a sign of confidence.

Dr. Rock says: I see

Hahn solo. says: and i think black men are more confident than white men.

but maybe it's a canadian/american thing.

Dr. Rock says: yeah

Hahn solo. says: or east/west.

Dr. Rock says: I did learn a pretty sweet hi-fiving tip though.

Hahn solo. says: but i think white men's liberal guilt has rendered them a bit stymied.

if you say "look at the guy's elbow"...

Dr. Rock says: On this hi-fiving forum I read sometimes

okay, you've heard it

Hahn solo. says: that's what started our whole high fiving discussion.

Dr. Rock says: hm

Dr. Rock says: they must subscribe to the same "Handz Up" newsletter

Hahn solo. says: high fivin' nerds.

Dr. Rock says: seriously, it's bigger than frisbee in some areas

Hahn solo. says: and the injuries are very severe, i've heard, when you are just a fraction of an inch out of alignment.

Dr. Rock says: That's what makes it so "x-treme"

Hahn solo. says: bah, i say, to xtreme. even gum is xtreme now. there has to be a next level. severe.

severe winter sports.

Dr. Rock says: haha

that's true. I remember when gum was this underground thing

Hahn solo. says: i know.

i hate the new gum.

it was so much better when it first came out.

Dr. Rock says: haha

totally

Hahn solo. says: i don't even chew it anymore. i'm that bored of it.

but i guess that's because i knew about gum before anyone.

i dated the guy who's dad invented gum, so we got to try it before it even came out.

bootleg gum sessions.

Dr. Rock says: haha. "gum sessions"

Dr. Rock says: that's funny

Hahn solo. says: i'm fuckin' on fire lately.

Hahn solo. says: would you mind if i reproduced word for word our conversation as a blog entry?

Dr. Rock says: no, not at all

Hahn solo. says: cause i think it's funny.

this conversation.

Dr. Rock says: i've been laughing

Hahn solo. says: yeah, me too.

or, rather, me, too. to get the punctuation correct.

Dr. Rock says: is this part going in too?

Hahn solo. says: only up to this point, because now you know you're being published everything will change.

Dr. Rock says: yeah, its not pure art anymore

Hahn solo. says: exactly.

it's severe art now.

Dr. Rock says: nice!

Hahn solo. says: thank you.

Hahn solo. says: little bow.

Dr. Rock says: hehe

New things

2007-03-30T00:24:00.000-07:00

"Anonymous said...: Hellooooooo! Where are you? Write something already....."

Yes, I am aware of my bloggery neglect. No, I am not sorry. I am inclined to selfishness these days, it has been a freight train of experience since I got home. I do want to tell you, I honestly do, but I also want to keep what may start to sound like whining to a minimum. I am not bored with myself yet, in fact the opposite, I am endlessly fascinated with my own discoveries and insides, but am very aware how quickly it might become dull to those around me. I am in some limbo as I am on waiting lists all over the place for various kinds of psychological evaluation and treatment. I want so badly to be talking to someone, and yet not just anyone. In the meantime I have been talking to anyone, and I just keep thinking "shut up shut up shut up" inside my head. Why can't I just be quiet? So I am trying. And partly I try by not notating each and every waking moment here.

I won't kid you, it has not been an easy time. I love my job. I am crazy for my job. My job is predictable and keeps me steady. Or, rather, is the one steady thing. I like being able to count on it, to have a reason to get up every day. A place to go. I like that I don't have to go there for too long. I am surprised at how little energy I have.

I am moving in with my good friend PJ for a couple of months. He has kindly offered a cozy room in his home to me, so I can look for the right place without panic, and can save a little money, and can have a nice, big tv for the playoffs. Not to mention a bbq, a patio, a freezer full of meat and a real bed up off of the floor. Grown up amenities to remind me I am growing up.

My emotional state is changeable, my sleep is erratic, and there have been walloping, painful, blinding migraines recently. I do what I can to stay out of the darker reaches of my brain, but it gets the better of me some days. I have had some very bad moments, and nearly checked myself back in to the hospital this week. I have been walking as much as I can, and have started jogging a little, which helps. I also have been going to AA meetings. I am pretty sure they are not exactly the right place for me, but in the interim while I have no therapy to attend, they are somewhere comforting where I can feel safe when I don't feel safe inside myself. Which I don't sometimes. I get very scared, and can feel extremely lonely, even in a crowd full of my friends. AA meetings remind me to take care of myself, to do the right things in my life, and to pray. Praying makes me breathe and remember to be grateful, which I am, mostly just to be alive. Because I almost wasn't this winter, and that's the truth.

I have fallen a couple of times, strayed from what are my new, healthy habits, since coming back to the city. It has been a challenge to be out of the cozy nest of watchful family, and to be responsible for my own welfare. Thank God for my job. And my good good friends who are keeping their eyes on me, even though they have their own lives and worries to attend to.

I can tell you this, I do not want to go back to where I was in the winter, but some days I am very frightened that I am headed that way. So I have to pay close, vigilant attention at all times to make sure I am taking care. I have proven to myself that I can easily slip into old habits, and that only constant deep breaths and taking it one day, one hour, one minute at a time is the only way through this patch. I do get to worrying sometimes, I am afraid that this battle will always feel difficult, that I will always be tired, that I will never feel right again, but somewhere in me I have a steady voice, reminding me that if I do the work, and humbly walk forward, I will live lightly again. I hope, I pray, I eat, I work, I laugh, I cry, (I laugh and cry a lot), and I practice patience and kindness with myself.

All of this has affected my relationships with so many people in so many ways. Friendships are changing, as I am changing, and I am so grateful to be so loved, but know I can not spread my attention as thin and wide as I have in the past. I am so limited in what I can do in a day, and I choose very carefully, always putting myself first. I look forward to the time when I do not have to concentrate so hard to take care, when it is the new neural truth, when the pathways have been retrained. I also look very much forward to getting back on stage, but it is still a ways off, even though people have very sweetly been asking for me. It is nice to be wanted, and nicer still to do it all at my own pace.

Every day is a little adventure, and a total gift, and a leap into the unknown. Some days I fall, some days I run, some days I find peace, some days there is so much noise.

And that is what there is.

xo
r.

Naptastic

2007-02-28T18:07:00.000-08:00

I am home, I am working, I am feeling good. I am very tired, but in a good way. Less energy than I thought, and working is pretty much all I can manage. But I love my new job, and I'm so happy to have a job, and to have structure. I will tell you more later, I just wanted you to know that I'm well and trying my very best to take care of myself.

I'll also try to put some new photos on the flickr site this weekend, I've got some beauties.

It has been so jam packed since I got home a week (!) ago. Can't believe it's only been a week. My friends are being so very good to me, and I just feel eager to move forward. I'm on time for everything, it's very weird.

Also, I'm looking for a place to live, so if anyone hears of anything, let me know. Ideally I'd like a little place to myself.

xo
r.

Silence is Golden. And Gum is sticky.

2007-02-14T23:47:00.000-08:00

I'll begin at the beginning. But first, let me say this. I have just returned from seeing the worst play I have ever seen. EVER. And I have seen some puh-retty bad theatre.

The real beginning. You know my state. I have ups and downs. This past week has been difficult. But I won't get into that now. Just know that seeing a very bad play may not have been, uh, soothing, for me. No, no, it may have spawned a fury. So. I knew it was a bad play. Everyone said it was bad. My mother designed this play and all she could talk about was how bad it was. But she made me see it anyway. Well, let's not dump this on her shoulders. Her set was lovely. And the lighting was very good, and the sound design quite sweet. But the script. (Whoops, I just puked a bit). And the directing. (Brief pause while I gouge out my own eyes). She did not MAKE me see it. But she did want me to see it. Partly to see her set, and partly because she really wanted to hear how I would analyze it. So I agreed to go. Now, I had heard that on opening night the production manager and props guy had walked out after the first ten minutes and gotten very drunk in the lobby and very loudly tore the thing to shreds, in full hearing range of the audience. And tonight when were seeing it at one point all three people I went with were asleep. All three of them.

What I'm trying to get at here is that my expectations were very, very low. Very low. On the way to the theatre I was driving, a half hour drive or so, in the car by myself, lowering my expectations, wishing I smoked cigarettes. Which led to wishing I had any vices right now. How do people maintain goodness? I'm not drinking, smoking, doing drugs, lying, cheating, stealing, fucking...nothing. I came to the conclusion that it's going to have to be tattoos. And I did drive a bit fast on the way to the theatre. But I knew that I could neither get a tattoo nor lay on the gas pedal while watching the show. So I really, really, really wished I smoked by the time intermission rolled around. I asked permission to not stay for the second act, but got the hairy eyeball, so I moved to the back of the theatre so that I didn't have the director and playwright sitting right behind me and I could glower and mutter to my heart's content.

So by the end of the first act I am wishing that every character on the stage would die an excrutiating death. And by the end of the second I am wishing I would. And then. A great cosmic joke. Possible Karma for my lack of diplomacy. I discovered that a very large, very FRESH wad of gum had been under my seat, in just the perfect place to A: get stuck to the back of the left leg of my jeans so that it could B: get stuck to the right front leg when I crossed them and C: could get stuck to my dress when the seat flipped up and I leaned against it. I have gum stuck to everything. Insult+Injury=irrational rage.

Sadly tonight was closing night so that I can not inflict the torture on anyone else I know. "Ew, this reeks, smell it". "This tastes disgusting, try it". "This play sucks, go see it". You know how bad it was? I preferred the smell of my own farts on the way home in the car to the play. And I had had a pork sandwich for dinner.

Thank you, and good night.

Did it!

2007-02-04T00:05:00.000-08:00

Huh. I just did something I've been meaning to do for years. Literally. And I haven't done it...why. Because I was scared, I suppose. But, as my good friend Kim pointed out to me, the worst thing they could do to me is shoot me in the face. I thought that probably I would think that being tortured would be worse, because if they shot me in the face I would die and I wouldn't know the difference. But if I didn't die, that would be the worst. However. I just did it, and lo and behold, still have my face, no shooting.

So. What did I do, you may well ask? I applied for the directing program at the National Theatre School. There are a few more steps to the process, and I don't really expect to get it, because they only accept people every two years, and then it's only two people...so...but. The doing of it. It's funny, it's just the initial step, the registration form, which is basically a resume, but I feel kind of giddy.

How giddy? I'm going to go right out and apply for the Voice Intensive at UBC, and a job at the City of Burnaby that I am eminently qualified for.

This new me is kind of fun. I like the new me. That's a pretty big deal, if you want to know the truth.

Now get outta here and go look at my photos on flickr!

xo
r.

Letter to Vanity Fair and Christopher Hitchens

2007-01-29T19:35:00.000-08:00

In the last issue of Vanity Fair, the one with Dreamgirls' Eddie Murphy, Beyonce and Jamie Foxx on the cover, there is an article by Christopher Hitchens titled "Why Women Aren't Funny". If you haven't read it, the following may not make sense to you. It rankled me, so I sent them this letter:

"Dear Vanity Fair and Christopher Hitchens:

I have just finished “Why Women Aren’t Funny”, by The Jackass Formerly Known As Christopher Hitchens (TJFKACH). Well, that’s not entirely true. I finished it weeks ago, but I was so mad I couldn’t write a response that was funny. And I knew it HAD to be funny, because otherwise TJFKACH would be able to disregard it entirely as some woman being irrational. You know how men like him can be.

As soon as I read it I went to my Myspace page and immediately changed all my top friends to funny women I know. Which, by the way, is most of the women I know. And many of them are funny professionally, as am I, and while a few of them fall into the “hefty, dykey or Jewish” categories TJFKACH so narrowly dumps us all into, most of them manage to be hilarious without having any of those traits. (Okay, okay. I admit it. I’m Jewish. And I even tell a few jokes about it. I’m not going to argue that point. Jews are funny. And so are Canadians. And I’m one of those, too. But Jewish humour is essentially male? Come ON, man.)

It took me quite a while to figure out why on God’s Green Earth TJFKACH would even bother to write this piece. At first I gave him some credit. Oh, I thought, it’s going to be an article about how funny women are, or about how few women there are in professional comedy, and why, (that is a much discussed topic in my circles lately, and the basis for a smart and insightful piece of writing), or about how women have a tough time in comedy because of the maleness of the field, or some such thing. But then, it was actually an article about women not being funny. No, no. This is not possible. I looked and looked for the thing I missed, the thing which said, this is tongue firmly in cheek. Not one redeeming thing came of my search. TJFKACH’s ideas are unformed, his arguments weak and not thought through. He. Is. Dead. Wrong.

And then it struck me. I know why he wrote it! I get it! He came home one night a teeny bit tipsy, having stayed at the bar a bit late so as to avoid his wife’s monthly book club meeting, knowing how women can be when they get together like that. Knowing their penchant for white wine and witty banter. Sadly for TJFKACH, though, the ladies had not nearly wrapped for the evening. Having chosen Notes On A Scandal as their book for the week had led them to discuss the undeniable attractiveness of younger men, of VERY young men, and the conversation had become downright bawdy, eventually coming down to circumcision versus not. All were most certainly in favour. It’s prettier, you know. It was at this raucous peak that poor Mr. Jackass decided to return home and was blindsided by the rowdy girls. For a few minutes they were amiable, and Jackass, in his mildly drunken state, was amused and even touched by their flirty attentions. But then. THEN. Somehow Mrs. Jackass got the idea to pants him in front of the group. And there he was. His foreskin gloriously displayed for all to see, and the girls, well they couldn’t help themselves. They pointed and laughed, and some of them even asked if they could touch it. The Jackass blustered and yelled, tried to leave the room but tripped over his pants, still around his ankles, and was sent crashing to the floor, his aging buttocks jiggling from the impact. Red faced and full of the fury of the belittled man, Formerly Hitchens yanked himself to his feet, pulled up his trousers, grabbed two bottles of wine, and retired to his study to get very, very drunk and write what at the time must have seemed like a scathing missive. A dressing down of all the women he knew who thought they were so damned funny.

Sadly for the esteemed Ass of Jack, this is the age of email and he unwisely hit send and the whole mess went off to Vanity Fair. The editors may have thought he was slipping, but were too giddy over Jennifer Hudson’s usurping of Beyonce’s thunder to really notice and just printed the thing anyway.

That is the only plausible explanation I could formulate. What else could possibly have driven him to such depths?

Yours,

Riel Hahn
Funny, Jewish, Canadian Woman"

I think that's the first letter I've actually sent to a magazine.

I have been oddly struck down with intense melancholy this evening. Nearly had a bout of tears while chopping garlic for the salad. I don't know what's going on. Except, I guess, that it's part of this whole process. It came on really suddenly, and I am almost desperate to cry, but can't seem to. Wish I had a copy of Beaches, or Terms of Endearment, or Steel Magnolias. Something cancery to really induce tears. No such luck. What's here. Spinal Tap and Mission Impossible 3.

Before the human race coined the term "depression", all forms of the mental illness were referred to as "melancholia", so I guess I'm right on track with it. I'm sure tomorrow will be better. It kind of started this morning when I woke up and there was MORE snow falling. In some places it is actually up to my ass now. That's a lot of snow. I like snow. So why did it make me so leaden? I am not sure. I think I might be a bit lonely. Hyup. But, as I said, it's likely just a down day, which I have been warned would happen. Managed to cook a gorgeous dinner, anyway, for all of us. Steak, green beans, baked potatoes, sauteed onions and salad. Simple, but very fortifying. Also did some work for my mum, sewing snaps on the little dress that the baby for which I was making baby heads wears. And playing with the cats. So you can see, it's not dire. It's just...blue.

Mission Impossible 3 it is. Maybe I can make myself feel better hating Tom Cruise.

Be careful and kind.

xo
r.

Art Therapy and Baby Heads

2007-01-27T17:11:00.000-08:00

Oh, hello.

Yeah, that's right. I'm still hibernating. And why not? I figure what's gonna happen is one day I'll wake up and be like, "it's time to go", and then I will. Until then, though, I am keeping myself occupied in some very interesting ways. Not the least of which was going to Salmon Arm to get a massage today. Oh, sweet baby Jesus, it was good. I am, like, six inches taller and a whole new woman. Came right home and made a gorgeous tomato sauce, currently simmering and smelling up the joint with aromatic bliss.

What else has been entertaining me? Have been taking pictures like crazy. Have only posted a few on my Flickr site, a link to which can be found over there ==>, and when I get the chance to avail myself of some high speed internet I will post some more. I am thrilled to be taking pictures again, it has been years since I have done so and I have missed it terribly. My friend Garnet loaned me his wee digital camera, and it's good, but I'm also looking forward to getting a nice fat one again. My pentax slr is busted, and so far no one's been able to ascertain the why of it, hence the lack of snapping the last few years, but I think someone is giving me their fancy cast off digital cam when they get a new one, but I'm not going to jinx it by saying who that might be. Anyway, I have taken some real gems. Feels very very good. I had a bout of boredom/narcissism and took many, many, many self portraits one night. Put together they are actually kind of an interesting diary of my state. My mother suggested I write something to go with them and put them together in a book. I might just. Since I've been writing poetry, anyway. AND drawing pictures.

That massage I had today has me feeling a bit drunk. God, it was nice to be touched. And worked over. Of course, when I get drunk I get mean...so...watch out, barren wasteland, lest I hurl epithets out the door at you. Yeah, that's right, coyote bitches, you BETTER run.

Sadly, we're out of jell-o. Sigh. Trip to town required.

Oh, and now I have to go make twelve baby heads out of sculpey. They are props for a show my mum is designing. There's a doll in the show which has to get it's face smashed with a hammer every performance, so there has to be twenty faces. They are about life sized baby heads. There are baby heads everywhere in this place! I am a baby head factory! I'm feeling oddly attached to them and am a bit sorry they all have to get smashed, cause I MADE them, for crying out loud. Oooh, it is so nice to be making things. My hands were missing being used for good and not evil.

Care of selves, try not to fall off your bikes.

xo
r.

Where it's all at.

2007-01-15T23:52:00.000-08:00

not back. not yet. i'm starting to get a bit squirrelly, but i don't want to come back until i'm very, very ready. i can't afford to slip back to where i was. i am grateful as hell that i have somewhere to be and the love and support available to really heal from this.

have been reading voraciously, thank god, since i kind of thought i'd lost my juice for it for a while. mostly, i thought i lost my brain. but it's honing again. it's been a big relief to make a decision to give up performing standup for a while. i'm starting to realize, as i peel away the layers of stress from my life, what a terribly stressful existence i've built for myself. so i have to kind of start again. from the ground up. i have a lot of building to do. i am just going to try to do my best every day. which i don't think i've allowed myself to do before. i've always beat myself up for not doing better every day. so.

it remains a rollercoaster. last couple of days i feel the anxiety lifting, and it's been sweet. i've been dreaming a lot, too, which i hadn't for a while. or, rather, for a while when i got my dreams back they were very difficult and full of unrest. they still sometimes are, but some nights, like the night before last, i get a night of sweet, peaceful, joyful dreams. i had a flying dream, and i can't remember the last time i had one of those. those are my most favourite ever, i never want to wake from them. the way i can fly is amazing in the very best of them. i can just think of being light and my body lifts off the ground and soars upwards until i am so high above everything and i can swoop and dive and spin in the air. oh, it's lovely. and the feeling kind of stays with me, or can be recalled, for days after the dream. it's a bit disappointing that i can't actually make it happen in real life, i'll tell you that.

i have crossed a nice line, i think, but am also deeply understanding that recovery is a much longer process than i have ever let it be before, and that there will still be very difficult days. i'm not gladdened by the bad days, but i'm learning to just let them happen, and let everyone around me know that they are happening, and not to be imposing about the mood. every minute i am thinking what is the right thing to do, and trying to do that. take care of myself and do the next right thing. breathe, and remember what will be the healthiest thing for me. eating well, going for walks, though some days it is harder than others to get myself up and out. today i almost didn't go for a walk at all, but then i did. kind of like flossing my teeth. just take the time and do it right, and the end results are better. if i don't do anything worth beating myself up over, then i can't beat myself up. neat.

i think the prozac is probably working. it's hard to tell because maybe i would have felt better without it, but also, maybe not. at the very least it's certainly not doing any harm. yesterday and today, especially, i have felt like it's taking hold. which is, scientifically speaking, about the right timing. just over three weeks now. i have an appointment with a psychiatrist, the one who saw me in the hospital, on thursday to do a check in with how the meds are going. i want to talk to her about the anxiety, because i don't want to up the dosage or anything, so i want to learn to live with a little if i have to, so i don't get too medicated. i don't want any fogginess or lethargy. i just want to be able to take care of myself. one foot in front of the other.

anyway, today i was really wishing i was in vancouver, because i'm a teeny bit lonely, but it's really okay, because i mostly need the solitude, and i was really only lonely for a couple of hours, and it wasn't sad, just kind of restless. i talk to the dog and cat a lot. i was hanging out with my buddy jane quite a bit, but she went to belize on sunday for three weeks. i have a couple of other friends up here, and i'm going to go stay a night in salmon arm and see a movie with my friend kim, so that will be good. it's the first time i've started to feel like i kind of want my life back, though. which is positive. i wasn't sure that feeling was going to come. i thought maybe i would never want to come back. but now i'm kind of looking forward to things.

when i was back for a couple of days i got a call out of the blue and booked a gig in campbell river in may for the rascalls, a well paying gig, and i got pretty excited about that. and i think we're going to play in bellingham for a weekend the end of february. and another friend and i talked on the phone for, like, two hours, (he is a remarkable friend), and he said he wants to submit a team to Ultimate Improv Challenge at Theatresports with me....we are going to call the team, "and you will know us by the trail of bread". for some reason improv doesn't inspire the same level of terror in me that stand up does. i'm really looking forward to doing improv shows. and writing. oh. my. god. i've started to be able to see how i could live very happily as a writer.

tomorrow i'm going to bust out the paints and make some art. i've been taking lots of pictures, too. thanks to my buddy garnet for lending me his digital camera. very generous.

in addition to the many books and smarty pants magazines i've been devouring, (smarticles, i've decided to call them, in harper's and the new yorker, you know the kind), i've been watching movies. sweet jesus, where have i been? talladega nights, little miss sunshine, a prairie home companion, no direction home and shopgirl. all have appealed to different parts of me. it's good to have so much input. filling the well.

okay. that is, as titled, where it's at.

thank you all for your kindness and understanding. the love that has been offered, (and there is more than i can believe, and from places i didn't expect), is so gratefully accepted and is going a long way towards my mending. i am in awe of all of your capacity for forgiveness and tenderness.

xo
r.

Where did YOU spend YOUR 35th birthday?

2007-01-07T13:12:00.000-08:00

I spent mine in the psych ward at Vernon Jubilee Hospital. And a day on either side, as well. In case you were wondering where I have been, how come I have not been regaling you with sparkling tales of sleigh ride joyousness. The winter has been darker than I expected, and the end result is a major turning point for me.

Just know that I am still here. It has been a rocky time, and there is lots to tell. But I am not quite ready to tell it. I mean, I have been telling it all over the place, but this...this is going to take some thought. The writing down of everything.

I am safely ensconced in the Okanagan, care and feeding courtesy of chez mummy, or, as I like to call it, the Grizzly Hill Sanitorium. I made a brief attempt to return to Vancouver, but it proved to be too soon, my heartrate too high, my brow too furrowed. Upon Doctor's orders am back in the bosom of the quiet countryside.

Will keep you apprised.

Take care of selves,

x
r.

Gi' yer head a shake

2006-11-29T01:27:00.000-08:00

I did. I did give my head a shake today. Had to. Was starting to go in circles in there. Here's what I thought of, and why. I thought about how sometimes I try to be what I think other people want me to be and then get all stressed out because I'm not being myself. And then resent them for wanting me to be something other than what I am. Even though it's only what I thought, not what they thought. I. Am. So. Weird. I thought about how I've done this for a long time. I don't want to do it. It's not as chronic as it once was, but it wasn't so present while I was on the meds. Every day, man, there's a new bit of old weirdness rearing it's head and demanding I finally deal with it. Which, I suppose, means I'm growing. Awww.

Why I thought of it. I was emailed the following a couple of days ago:

"The CBC is looking for a HOST for a new lifestyle show to air in January. The show will be a local guide to better living in the lower mainland. ... If you are enthusiastic...an entertaining interviewer...quick on your feet...a good writer, comfortable on camera, please apply!"

I want it. But I also just wanted to do the applying. Get all the stuff written and together, stuff I can use in the future for other things. And while I was working on THE LETTER this afternoon I realized how much I wanted them to want ME. Not for me to try to be what I think they want. How little point there would be in getting this not based on what I could truly deliver. I know. Simple. And then the thought ran around my brain and applied itself to the rest of my life.

I am constantly trying new ways to not panic. I am much, much better at it than I used to be. There is a freaking avalanche of things I am learning, and quickly. I am all the things I am, and my essence is good. I just have to keep the doubting synapses from firing. Oxygen seems to silence them. So breathing is very, very important.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Nice.

Help each other out. Show your love.

x
r.

Gumboots and snowboard socks. The winter footwear of champion west coasters.

2006-11-28T02:28:00.000-08:00

There is snow here. Snow snow snow. I love the way everything moves in slow motion in the snow. I also love how this is just winter everywhere else in Canada, but here, a major event. Major enough to be news on the national CBC. Oh, the Ceeb. A friend has recently introduced me to a show called "The Great Eastern". If you don't know of it, you should really check it out. I'll post the link over there. ---> You know the spot. Funny and smart.

This same friend has been trying to help me get up and running on soulseex, or whatever the hell it's called. I can't quite get it to work.

You know what. I thought I was feeling articulate, but I'm not. Oooh, my brow was all furrowed and I didn't realize it 'til just now. I relaxed it and suddenly..peace. I had a sort of boyfriend once who used to press his thumb between my eyebrows, and make me untense there. He said it was impossible to be anxious when you stayed relaxed there. He was right. I use that a lot.

What on earth is she anxious about now? Oh, for Christ's sake. What amn't I worried about. It's good good to have work. There is a deadline looming for something, and I am a bit anxious about that. Trying not to be stupefied into inactivity. Big days tomorrow and Wednesday, trying to meet that deadline. I think it will entail leaving my house to get the writing part of it done. It is soooooo easy to get distracted in my room. Anyway, I've blabbed to a few people about this thing, which I want very badly, but think that it's really the application that's important. Putting together a self promotion package.

This is one of those moments. Where I am on the verge of something, and could really set myself back by not really trying, or I could just do the thing and do it well, and then no matter how it turns out, I am further ahead because at least I did the thing.

It is cold in my room. Haven't finished all the construction yet, so no heater. Although, not as cold as I thought it would be. But cold enough that this bed would be nice with someone else in it. Form a protective layer of heat between us and that icy night. Mmmm. That's a nice thought. The kind of thought that makes it very, very easy not to furrow my brow.

Just think about nice things, lady.

(I almost called myself by my own name there, and it was WEIRD. I don't think I have ever uttered my own name on this blog and it was alarming to see it almost entirely spelled out. I got the first letters down, but not the last letter. I stopped and erased it. It's like saying Rumplestiltskin or Betelgeuse, or something. Something would HAPPEN. I know most of you know who I am, but...God, I can't put my finger on it. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't use my name.)

Just think about nice things and everything will be okay. Try to flood your own brain with seratonin. On an as needed basis. Train myself to release happy juice. (Oooh, my kingdom for some red wine and chocolate)

Countdown to winter in the woods. Feeling excited, except for the part where I think I'm going to be underdressed. I all of a sudden have no puffy coat and no winter boots. I'm going to have to take a serious look at things. Layers. I have more than one puffy vest, so that's good. And many, many layers. Fleece is nice, but sometimes it's so dry up there that fleece gets staticky.

Why on earth am I talking about static cling.

I had the weirdest conversation with someone on the phone today. A fellow comic, who's on tour right now. I was sort of hoping he'd be back, because he's got access to a tape of a set of mine that I'd like...so I phoned him, and he answered, and I said who it was...(he knows me, that's important in this story)...so I said who I was and there was this long pause. Long. Bank line up long. Then he says, "Okay". And the tone made it sound like "Am I supposed to know? Or care?". And he was like that the whole conversation. It was awkward as hell. Comics are so awkward.

Do you guys know how much I love comedy? I love it so much. A girl at work (I know, it sounds weird even to me), was asking me today about my influences and stuff. And I had so much fun just thinking about all the comedy I listened to growing up, and what I liked about them as a kid, and what I like about them now.

So. Tomorrow. Just send me smart vibes, wouldja?

x
r.

Laurels.

2006-11-22T02:23:00.000-08:00

Well. Very good set, indeed tonight at Yuk Yuk's. I would have laughed if I was watching it. I realize that's when I feel like I've been good. If I thought it was funny. I know it makes sense, but I sort of lost track recently about why I wasn't feeling good about my sets, even if other people laughed or complimented me. I just didn't think I was funny. But then tonight...well...I was funny. It started last night, at the Alibi thing, but tonight. I have to ride this out. It's been a while since one felt like I was doing the right thing with my life. Tried the model jokes from last night. People liked them. And, fortuitously, someone was taping the show tonight. Also good. Been very lazy about taping sets. Or, perhaps I was reluctant due to not finding myself funny. Why would I want that on tape?

Good. Funny. Work coming. Good.

x
r.

Piknchoosn.

2006-11-21T16:47:00.000-08:00

Well, last night was hilarious. Emceed and hosted a fashion show/fundraiser. A whole new scene, man. There were hors d'oeuvres...and do you know what I saw??? Models...EATING! Of course, there was a really long line for the women's washroom..(ooh, zing!) I told a bunch of model/eating disorder jokes last night, they seemed to go over pretty well. At first there was a bit of oohing, but then I said, "oh, are you guys feeling sorry for the models?" and they were all like, "yeah", and I was like, "because they've been such a marginalized people for so long?", and they were all, "...hahahahahahaha". So, I won them over. The microphone apparently ran on a 9 volt battery and it was dying as the show started, so, that's always good for a comic. A scratchy mike that's hard to hear. Sweet. Didn't stay for the party, couldn't quite stomach it. Packed in there. Good news was the show was short. Kept it moving.

Had to turn down work today. Had to make some smart decisions with regards to longer term planning. Could have taken jobs which started right now, but with very little long term usefullness, and would have conflicted with jobs that I have to wait a week or two for, but which will inevitably lead to future comforts.

Am going to the Caravan for the winter show there, so I'll be out of Vancouver around December 7th or so. Depending on how I plan to get there. How, indeed! Let's all keep our fingees crossed it's not going to be the Greyhound, but I bet it is. Whee. I gotta get all my winter gear together, too. Hm. Whatever shall I wear? It has just come to my brain that I don't actually have winter boots anymore. I wore out my Sorrels and my Emus. Hm. I suppose I could get some liners for my gumboots.

Sorry, that was the inside of my head for a second. Remember how pretty my writing has been lately on this blog? Yeah, remember that? Today, not so much.

Have a show at Yuk Yuk's tonight. 3 1/2 hours away and my tummy's already making a bit of a spectacle of itself...roiling around in there. Calm down, tummy!! We'll be funny! It'll be okay! Sheesh. It's only 5 minutes of my life. What can possibly go wrong? Ha. Ha. Ha.

I think I'll try to do the material about models. I enjoyed that. I wonder if it will translate. I gotta go and figure it out.

Upwards,

x
r.

Another storm coming. Boil boil boil.

2006-11-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

I had some big plans for this rainy, rainy morning. But the first thing that happened was that my mum called to deliver the sad news that our good friend Rodney Gage passed away. Rodney was a great presence in my life. He was this tall, gorgeous black man who played the pedal steel guitar like angels lived in his very fingers and toes, and when he would sing strong men wept. When I was born my parents held me and then he did. He loved telling the story and showing his great big hand and how I fit right in his palm. He was a bit of a shady character, and fostered complicated relationships in his life, not always tender or respectful of the feelings of those closest to him - his wife, Connie and his son, Joaquin. But we are all a bit broken, are we not? And everyone has their story, and makes their choices to live and die as they will.

Rodney had been ill for quite a while, at first being diagnosed with bladder cancer a couple of years ago, against which he fought valiantly. Chemo and more chemo. Then, a few months ago, they found brain cancer. He has been on a steady decline since. As far as I know he passed peacefully, at home, (ish, as much as home is where you hang your hat). He and my mother were very close and she is quite sad, though unable to come here right now as she is up to her eyes with the pending opening of her show. My heart goes out to her, since I know she would like to come down and be with Connie right now.

My own relationship to this passing is still out of my body. It has been a long time since Rodney and I saw each other with any regularity, but I did see him a few times a year. I think for both my brother and I it touches on the passing of our own dad, and makes it slightly confusing to untangle the emotions. Certainly this has not got my innards spilling out onto the ground, stinging and sharp, as the pain was with Phil. But the weather seems appropriate, and I think this is a more reflective kind of grief, a softer kind. Something more fond and sweet, less despairing.

The thing I have noticed about death is it's ability to bring people together. Phil's death had the lovely effect of reconnecting me with two old friends, and the connection continues. There is a woman I have been very close to in my life, and this year things fell apart. It has been a layered break up, and I think about it all the time. Not sure whether I am doing the right things, divesting myself of it, etc. But it has been what it has been. Rodney had a real fondness for her, as they used to see each other a lot at my family's house, years ago. He always asked after her and thought she was wonderful and lovely. So I called her today to tell her. We had a good, if slightly forced conversation, and we are going to see each other tomorrow. I'm trepidatious, but it will likely be sweet. I feel like staying guarded, but I know that that can sometimes make me icy, which I don't want to be.

I have also had several phone calls regarding work, which is heartening. Looks like I will be able to start at a couple of things this week, and have some interviews as well. And a couple of choices to make. Feast or famine, right?

So now I am off to the Bodyworlds exhibit at Sciencworld, which is an interesting choice for today.

Hug someone today, I know I will.

Peace, kindness.

xo
r.

Turbidity. Literally and metaphorically.

2006-11-16T23:09:00.000-08:00

You know what really gets on my tits? MySpace. That friggin' site never works properly. I'm tired of having anything to do with it. Sigh. Another first world problem.

We have turbid water. Vancouver. You probably heard about it on the news. Cause when the water goes bad, that gives us all a little peek into the future. IGA ran out of bottled water today and told everyone there was a shipment coming at 9pm. Remember how people trampled each other for Cabbage Patch dolls? You could see the madness in their eyes. Two cases per person only! And the people wanted it, bad. You can't brush your teeth in mud, it seems. I kind of like saying turbidity. You have to take your time. You can't say it fast, mush it up, rush it. Which makes it really feel like what it is. Onomatopoeia for the masses.

Job seeking looking up. Have an assessment at a temp agency on Monday. Two hours of testing and interviews to determine what I'm appropriate for. Apparently they have plenty of light industrial work, which I'd rather do than reception. The more I have to deal with objects and the less with people, the happier I will be. Hoping they can put me to work right away cause....

My agency called yesterday to inform me they had fired my agent. Of course they did! Am marching down there tomorrow to make sure they put me on someone else's roster, cause this girl wants work and wants it bad. Course, christmas is coming and that's a sloooooow time in the industry, but, hell, I'll take work in January.

I'm going to try to get to sleep before midnight tonight. Pretty impressive, eh?

Don't drink the water.

r.

Fighting the bug.

2006-11-14T21:52:00.000-08:00

Okay. Am okay. Am eating garlic on toast, (two raw cloves in an effort to fight the bug), listening to hilarious and excellent "Ideas" on CBC radio. It's about the phallus in ancient Greece and Rome. Boy, if you thought men were obsessed with their members nowadays...wowsers. I'll tell you this, there's a lot of tittering going on amongst the people on this program. You'd think they could make an hour about penises and male sexuality on CBC without all these grownups covering their mouths and giggling every ten seconds. Interesting info, though.

One clove down. Ooh, can feel that in the belly. Whew. Nobody better come in my room in the next 12 hours. Stinkeroo.

So I was grouchy, but I just had to remember that I like my time alone and rest and not get sick. Yeah, no sickness. Or, rather, no MORE sickness.

And there you have it.

Oh, yay. Another storm on it's way. I love rain. Love it love it love it.

2006-11-14T19:56:00.000-08:00

Remember last night when I was feeling like all was right with the world and stuff? That was a nice, fleeting moment.

Comedy is making me angry again. Got bumped from Yuk's tonight, even though I would have done it even though I can feel myself coming down with something. Bumped from Balthazar last night. Trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong. Fighting my way upstream right now, wish I felt like anyone took anything I did seriously.

Wish I had some food in the fridge. Zip zap zam, I just did a Jeannie...nope, nuthin'. Huh, guess I'll have to go to the STORE!! What? Groceries? I hardly know how to pronounce it, much less go get some of it.

I think I am a bit grrrrrrrumpy having spent all, (I'm not kidding, it's been 8 hours), day reformatting my resume and sending out applications for jobs. If people want you to apply online I think they should be more responsive about it. The temp agency I keep applying to is ignoring me. I'm going down there tomorrow and give them a piece of my mind. Of course, that piece of my mind will consist of a paper copy of my resume and my best sucking up speech ever. Sigh.

Excuse me, I gotta get outta the house before I break someone's accordian.

When time pauses

2006-11-14T02:46:00.000-08:00

You know how sometimes you get a little feeling like all is right with the world, just for a minute? Yeah, I'm having that.

Good things in Vancouver

2006-11-13T02:24:00.000-08:00

I have just returned from seeing the Borat movie. I am laughed right out, it was that good. I don't want to ruin it for you, but I do want to strongly encourage you to see it if you have not already done yourself the favour. There were moments I was thinking to myself, "stop screaming so loud with laughter, you're going to hurt your throat and face." But I couldn't stop. I couldn't. It was too good.

As well, I was treated to a most magnificent dining experience this evening. There is a new restaurant called FigMint at the corner of 12th and Cambie, in the Ramada Inn, next to the Jolly Alderman. Strange location, stunning restaurant. Every morsel was melty and the cocktails were clearly made by baby angels. Everything, come to think of it, was what food in heaven is going to taste like. (Yup, that's right, I'm going to heaven...I decided. Don't act so surprised. The rules for getting into heaven aren't what you thought they were.) The service was outstanding. Check it out online, know that they made a lot of words up on the menu, but that all the dishes will live up to their crazy names. Ask the bar guy to pair wine with your food, he makes very, very good choices. And thank the chef, I think he's still a teenager.

And, for god's sake, get your ass to the Anza club on Wednesday night for It's Good To Know People, (IGTKP). A great show, you won't be sorry. $5 for so much entertainment you won't believe it.

Be fun to each other.

x
r.

What did you do last night?

2006-11-12T13:58:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering whether I got drunk last night and wrote some gold jewish jokes, I did. So now you can go about your business. Sorry to keep you waiting all morning while I slothed around.

Tea tea tea. Earl grey saves me in this November miasma. I have lost my rain coat, but gained some gum boots, so I am sort of prepared. Thinking a little autumnal walk on the beach may be in order. Then dinner, then Borat. Oh, sweet, sweet Borat. Sounds good. Sounds...flexible.

x
r.

This. That. Other stuff.

2006-11-11T19:05:00.000-08:00

Hello! Wanted to let you know that I am feeling much better. Have I already told you that? I am very, VERY appreciative of all of your kind words and pithy observations the last while. You all kept me afloat, for sure. I feel like my chemistry has evened out somewhat, though my ass continues to grow. I did, however, just download the application form for free parks board passes for low incomites, like me, and am very excited about starting up a swimming regime for the first time in years. I need a physical release every day. I wanted to get a yoga pass, but I actually think that getting my heart rate up will make me happy. I miss swimming. It's the thing my body responds to the most quickly. Well, that and kissing, but that's a whole other ballgame.

Still feeling a bit leery of my comedy, but I suspect that disciplining myself as a writer is going to go a long way towards making me relax in that department. Convincing everyone who books rooms that I'm serious about it is harder, though, so I'm putting on my game face and picking all the comics' brains to see who will take me on tour with them as their opener, and how I take the next steps in this world.

Went back up to the Okanagan on Thursday, just overnight, and woke up yesterday to snow snow snow. God, I miss the snow. I miss the soft sounds and soft lighting and cool air in my lungs and layers and layers of clothes and the smell of wood smoke and cozying up during a blizzard. However, what I DON'T miss, I discovered yesterday, is driving on the motherfucking Coquihalla highway when the snow is falling. It was mayhem and I almost got into a serious accident. There were cars everywhere, spinning off the road, sliding into the ditch, and we were nearly one of them. Went into a spin, but kept my head and steered into the skid and didn't lock up the brakes and didn't hit the little blue car next to us, but I don't know how I managed to miss it. I did go sideways into the median, though, but luckily for me there was lots of snow piled up against it so no damage to the car. Phew. Bit of a task, driving back.

Am back in my house now, after time away at the Caravan, and time housesitting for a week at my stepmother's, and even though everything is in the exact state is was when I left, I am calmer about it. Just remembering to breathe deeply seems to help. And keeping myself busy with my work. It's all just perspective, right?

So...Monday...finding a job. Going to temp, I hope. Unless anyone else has anything else they need done? I gotta work. For my sanity as much as for my pocketbook. (I don't have a pocketbook, I have a jar, but still...) Soooooo.....looking for work, people....looking for work. Have been sending out lots of resumes and stuff this fall, but nothing has really come of it. I think temping is the best option for me, flexible and variable. I miss delivering flowers, a lot, makes me wish I still had a working vehicle. Have been contemplating the possibility of going to the Caravan to work on the winter show, but I think it's too long away from comedy. Oh, right, actually, I have shows booked the 9th and 16th of December, so can't do it anyway! Hurray for me for having a reason for something!

Now I'm leaving to go to my friend's house for dinner...she is making LOBSTER TAILS!! God, I love having friends in the film catering business. Sweeeeet.

Remember how I always cut my own hair? I have really gone too far this time. Wednesday I got seriously overzealous with the sewing scissors and gave myself "The Mental Patient". It looked good in the Okanagan, where it's so dry that my hair does cool rock n' roll messy things, but the humidity here in Van makes it...erm...slightly ridiculous. I think. Friends maintain that it's not so bad, but I think it's because of my current trick of wearing big hoop earrings. These hoops make everything kind of look ok. I remember that from the early 90's when I never left the house without hoops. It's like I've gone backwards to find myself again so I can move forwards.

So. Swimming, working, writing and possibly one other thing that I can't talk about yet.

Oh, right, AND, on November 20th I've been asked to host and emcee a great event called "Threads of Gastown" at the Alibi Room. It's a fashion event and all the proceeds go towards the Downtown Eastside Women's Shelter's program, WEAVE. (Women Engaged in the Arts - Vision and Empowerment). It's going to be an excellent evening, and I LOVE hosting things, and it's a great cause, so...check out the link over there ====> and get deets from my Myspace site. Love to see any of you there.

And, in case you were wondering, I'm fucking THRILLED about the American midterm election results, not to mention the fallout. See ya, Rummy! (I'm sure Gates is no picnic, but at least he's a seasoned strategist). It was a pleasure to watch Bush be a bit humbled. Of course, the Democrats aren't as funny as the Republicans, so that's a blow to comedy everywhere, but I think it's a fair price to pay.

Be kind to each other, y'all.

Peace, tenderness....

x
r.

Oh, and...

2006-11-04T02:22:00.000-08:00

Just kind of forgot to mention that tonight, November 3rd, was the second anniversary of my dad dying. I was just reading some of the blog entries I made from that time. I think it's time to address this with therapy. I mean, there's grief in all it's forms, and I think I'm through the most crippling of the sadness, but I haven't even begun to deal with the experiences of his illness. The years of deterioration, and the horrors of the last few weeks. There are moments I have tried to revisit, and literally my chest convulses and I have to think of something else. I must remember that these memories are in my cellular structure now, and even if my brain doesn't realize what happened at this time of year, my body does.

Anyway, that is all.

Peace, kindness.

x
r.

A gem of a day.

2006-11-04T01:53:00.000-08:00

Hmm. What to say. I kept putting off an entry for no good reason. Have been wanting to regale you with details of my emergence from under the dark cloud that has been plaguing me of late. Now I have left it 'til I am under eider and the sweet sweet duvet is calling me towards sleeeeeeep. Have had so much red wine in the past two weeks, it is catching up with me. Plus, getting myself back on sleep track and not staying up until 5am might be good. Oh, I am not making any sense whatsoever. I will detail slap you in the next couple of days, but know that I am feeling rosier and I think the ol' magic is back. Feel back in myself, remembering that comedy is fun, and that it's a better show when I have fun. Good sets, new material, relaxed hips...all good. Same struggles exist, but so does perspective and deep breathing. Of course, I have not been at home in the past couple of weeks, either, and that may be making all the difference in the world. I can't wait 'til the renos are done and we can all find out if that is truly what is making things so tense around there.

My darling friend Jane suggested that myself and her pal Garnet may hit it off, so he and I emailed for a bit, commented on each other's blogs and whatnot, and finally met in person today. Was a really nice thing. He is smart, he thinks he is grumpy but he wasn't today, and he claims to hate people but his life is full of them, and he was kind and funny and took a picture of me and put it on his blog, where he said nice things about me and my brain, and I liked that, too. Good day, if rainy. Rain! I think it has begun in earnest, the rain. I hope I am wrong. Although, wearing a hat and keeping the water off my glasses makes it not seem so bad. We'll see if I'm still singing the same tune in March.

How am I going to avoid Christmas this year? Any suggestions?

xo
r.

I am not the ray of sunshine I once thought I would be.

2006-10-22T02:31:00.000-07:00

Still pretty tense, y'all. Finding moments of relaxation, which is good. Getting lots of different input from people. The places I find it easiest to be are places where I am alone or with people who could care less whether I am edgy or not. There seems to be a faction that is pushing for myself to cheer up, and soon. That doesn't make it better. I think I have to stop going out for social occasions for a while. I'm just not that good with people. And I think this edginess is going to go on for...god, I don't know. I hope not too much longer.

I am trying, I really am. When the renovations are done and the drywall dust doesn't cover every available surface with a fine, powdery reminder of the state of our home, and the tradesmen are gone, having FINALLY done something right, (we hope), and my things can get unpacked for the first time since May, and I can settle and have a sanctuary, I expect things to be much, much better. I know my work as a comic is proving very challenging, but I am becoming fairly certain that much of my delicate state is due to the upheaved and chaotic living environment.

I am on my way tomorrow morning to the Caravan Farm Theatre, to work as Front of House for their Halloween show. It's a week long gig, and normally I would really be looking forward to the gettin' outta Dodge and into the woods for a bit, but I want to stay here and do shows. It's only a week, but the momentum is the momentum. I wrote so much new material this past week, I'm dying to try it out. I have no idea how it's going to go over, it's definitely different than what I've done before. Dirtier, more confessional. I'm pretty scared. Which, of course, leads me to believe it's the most important direction for me to take. Always do the scariest thing. (Unless you are being approached by a bear, or are accidentally hanging from a tree branch growing out of the side of a cliff, in which case the least scary thing is probably the right thing, you can't do without fear entirely).

Just then I sort of hated myself for being glib right after being sort of deep. I feel cheap sometimes when I lighten things up. Weird, since it's my JOB to make light. What a freakin' connundrum I am to myself.

Here's a strange thought that just went through my head...lately I am really reminding myself of myself as a little girl. So serious and shy and worried.

People have been asking why I have to get edgy and aggressive to go further as a comic. I don't know, but I think it's a bit of defense. Defense against the strange world of misfits that is comedy and their (our) barbed and insecure ways. Defense against my own desire not to be too vulnerable. My sensitivity, I think, is both my greatest gift and my biggest stumbling block. It is what gives me the eye for minutiae in the world, my keen sense of human nature and my compassion, but it is also what makes me nervous, and overly ready to think that people think the worst of me. It keeps me worried. I am working on these things. I need, I think, to find a new therapist and talk to someone. A good friend reflected back at me the other night that there are many factors contributing to my current state and perhaps I needed to pay some of them a bit more creedence than I do. And give myself more time for things to even out, and etc...you know what I'm going to say, since I'm pretty sure I always say the same thing.

Sometimes I feel like I have grown and evolved and learned a thing or two in my near 35 years, (ay yay yay), and sometimes I can't believe I haven't learned a damned thing. I always want thinking of things to mean they are automatically implemented. Alas, not so. I am realizing some things may take a lifetime to even come close to sinking in. Some things may continue to challenge me for 35 MORE years. So. Today is today and we'll see about tomorrow.

I know one thing for sure. And that is comedy. That is the only for sure thing right now.

Another friend told me that if I really felt I needed the edginess to be a better comic, fine, but that if I was edgy in my friendships I would regret it. Basically I feel like what she was saying was get happy or lose friends. Which, in the moment seemed true, but now is kind of pissing me off. Like, I am having a time of it, and that's how it is, and pushing me to be different isn't going to be effective. I need to go through this time. I know it. I realize it's not entirely pleasant for everyone all the time, me most of all, and that I am not my effervescent, makin' friends everywhere I go self, but...I don't know. People go through stuff. And if the friendships I have can't weather this transistion, then I don't really know what to do with them.

I am very torn about being alone vs. trying to make myself be with people. It seems like maybe it's an unhealthy cycle to just be by myself all the time in order to not foist my crap on people, but I think I need a little love, too, sometimes, but I also kind of want to be alone all the time, but etc...circles, circles.

I could use the hugs, though, I really could, even if it seems like I don't want them. It's just that they'll likely make me cry, because a lot of the time, that's what the edginess is - a monumental effort not to cry. I don't know any other way to keep the tears at bay.

I feel very, very strongly in my heart and in my gut that even though this time is so challenging, and a bit ugly, it's a very important time to pay attention. I have such a visceral feeling that if I work through what I'm supposed to work through right now the other side is going to be very, very rewarding. So, I guess I gotta do it my way and accept the consequences and rewards as they come. Because, inevitably there will be lots of each.

I'll leave you there, in an effort to get more than four hours sleep.

xo
r.

Noooooooooooooo!!!!

2006-10-17T12:18:00.000-07:00

It has happened y'all. I found two grey hairs. And I know they are new because they are short. And I have to assume that if there are two, there are more. And I wasn't even looking for them. Well, I wasn't looking for the first one, but I was looking for the second one. Then I stopped looking. Oh, man. I've been so pleased at not having grey hair. But they are new, and I have to assume they have to do with all this new worrying. So. Let's get ourselves together, shall we selves? And calm the fuck down. I don't want to start coloring my hair again. It's a pain. And cancerous. Serenity now, fuckers!

Full of self indulgence and swearing. Pathetic, actually.

2006-10-15T22:09:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion that nobody reads this anymore. Thank God! Thank you God! (I am learning to follow instructions, especially my own.)

The strains of Willie Nelson and friends singing "Goodnight Irene" is making me wistful. It is an interesting state to be mad and wistful at the same time. Why am I mad? I haven't got a fucking clue. Except maybe the broken iPod. It tried to leap to it's death off of the Burrard Street bridge the other night, just at the moment it was being of tremendous solace to me, of course, and instead of making it off the bridge and into the water it just crashed to the sidewalk and now it's maimed. I think I heard it say, "I'm hurt real bad".

I seem to feel mad in combination with pretty much any other emotion I'm having at any given time. I wonder if this is just what I'm like. This whole unmedicated thing, it's weird. I don't want to go back, but I'm definitely alarming myself with all the damn feeling of things.

I'm mad that television sucks and is irritating when you can hear it from another room.

I'm mad that I'm almost 35 and have...er...nothing but a fat ass to show for it.

I'm mad that I just wrote that. What a stupid thing to write!

I'm mad that I have to shed so much to move forward with one thing. The sound of closing doors all around me.

I'm mad that I repeat myself on this stupid blog and don't even know it. I mean, I must.

I'm mad that I'm not funnier than I am.

I'm mad that it's raining.

I'm mad that the only person I've ever been sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with is unavailable to me in that capacity.

I'm mad that I could make a list about what I'm mad about for hours.

I'm mad that I probably have to take the greyhound this week. I, as you probably know, am NOT a fan of the greyhound bus. And now that I am no longer dulled by chemical bliss it's even worse.

I'm mad that I'm so much more neurotic than I thought I was.

I'm mad that my neuroses and my anger aren't interesting. (Why are you still reading? Wait. That assumes that someone is reading, when, in fact, we earlier ascertained that no one reads this stupid thing anymore.)

Fuck. What am I doing.

I just needed to write something because I'm totally going mental. All this time on my hands to spend alone and write comedy, it seemed like a good idea, but I'm turning into a total freakshow. It's possible that communal living is not such a good idea for me. People touch your things, and dogs and children make things sticky and hairy. It's cheap, you say, so suck it up. I fucking KNOW why I'm doing it, but that doesn't mean it's easy for me. So fuck off.

Huh. Oddly, it feels very very good to say that. *spoiler alert* I'm going to say it again.

FUCK OFF!

Wait, I think now I need to add to it.

First shut the fuck up, then fuck right off, and on your way to fucking off take out the fucking garbage and don't touch any of my fucking stuff on the way, fucking fucksack fuckery fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Hmph.

By the way, if you are still here, this is likely going to go on for at least a few more paragraphs.

It's possible that I'm mad all the time because I hardly eat anything and my blood sugar is low low low. And if I hardly eat anything, you ask, (fuck you, I say), why am I still such a fat fucking slob? I DON'T KNOW. I ride my bike, I walk everywhere I go, I fuck...nothing. Still sitting on an ass as wide as two asses. (Now is likely not a good time to critcize my poor simile making skills.)

Hm. I just took a call from my good friend Todd Allen. That guy has a way of making it impossible not to look at things with a bit of a rosy spin. What a guy. He made me laugh and suggested that everyone is neurotic. I asked if he thought that when everyone comes home and finds that something of theirs has been moved, like, an inch, do they immediately move it back in a slamming it down kind of way and feel bile rising in their throat and a desire to punch the wall?

The inside of my head is a minefield.

Oddly, I had a really sweet day. It has come to a point where I have to actually be in the middle of something enjoyable to be enjoying anything. Like, as soon as the enjoyable thing is over I'm let loose into the wilderness of my brain again.

I'm really thinking it has a lot to do with blood sugar.

I can't wait until I can always afford groceries. I don't think a constant diet of toast and mr. noodles ever did anyone any good.

Where is my afterglow?! I am being cheated out of wallowing in the joy of moments gone by. Either that means I am spending too much time worrying about the future, or I am solidly in the present. Which is supposed to be a good thing.

What defines a crazy person, I guess, is my question. If I can boil down all my thinking into one sentence. That's what I wanna know. Naturally, because I'd like to detect my own levels of craziness. Boy, narcissism, anyone?

I'll tell you one thing, I am uncovering more of my true nature each and every day, and my true nature is a rank, self serving bitch. And, interestingly, my true nature allows me to not care if I'm a rank, self serving bitch. I just want what I want. So get outta my way, lady on the skytrain who smelled like rotting fruit.

Please, please, God, let me find a way to the Okanagan that doesn't involve me, a bus, and OTHER PEOPLE!! Other people. Ich. They make me hold my nose and not want to touch anything. I can tell I'm going to become a bubble person. I don't mind dirt created in my own environment, or clean dirt, like in the country, but I don't like city dirt, and I really don't like germy, sticky, slimy, stinky, crusty dirt. If my face doesn't stop making the expression it is currently making I am going to become an old sourpuss before my very eyes.

My head hurts. I'm going to make some mr. noodles and toast. Oh, what a meal!

x
r.

Unrelated but possible existentially related piece of information to follow - Someone very, very special to me gave me a gift yesterday. A wooden Buddha statue. Thin Buddha, not fat Buddha. Anyway, he gave it to me because he has seen me not at my best lately and thought it might help to keep me calm. I am moved each and every time I look at it. Even if I have just had a swearing jag, I look at it and see the love it has been infused with, and I am calmed for a moment. Which, I believe, was the point. It's very soothing to have a reminder that one is loved. It is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me. I am quite grateful, actually, and am thinking right now that perhaps I should spend more time with Buddha and less with iBook. Now there's a thought.

As ever, thanks for listening.

do it

2006-10-12T01:55:00.000-07:00

hey. patient friends. no real post tonight. just wanted to remind you that if you look slightly to the right of these words -> you will see something that says "Riel's Upcoming Shows". if you click on that it will bring up my myspace page, which has all my standup dates and times listed. check 'er out. there's lots. and y'all keep asking when you can come and see me. so...now...come and see me, bitches! put yer proverbial money where your proverbial mouth is. especially come wednesday the 18th to yuk yuk's when i'm doing the competition and the audience response counts for so much of the score. i kind of want to go to the finals. i think it's going to be an awesome lineup at the finals and i want to be a part of it.

oooo...i'm taking cold medicine and i'm a bit woozy. anyway, come see my show.

whooOOOOAAAAaaaa

2006-10-04T13:21:00.000-07:00

Ah, the rollercoaster. She is coasting. And rollering. Have been moody as hell lately. Lots of factors. Relearning who the real girl is, having gone off my celexa/citalopram...SSRI...Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitor...anti anxiety meds. I like being off them, because for sure I feel like myself again. I don't think I really thought I didn't feel like myself, but I knew there was a fog in my brain. (Not a frog in my throat, which is why I sort of quit smoking pot). Anyway, the fog in my brain has lifted, and several things have returned to me which I was forgetting lived in me. Like my body image is a bit screwy again. Definitely looking at myself with a much more critical eye. And I am a moooody beeyatch. Yup, for sure. Easily tipped into a funk or, more likely, an inner monologue tantrum of epic proportions. There is a lot more swearing and several more revenge fantasies in my brain. And the anxiety. Back. However...I like it better. It's weird, because I thought if those things came back I would immediately want to run back to the meds, but I don't. I LIKE being myself. And I like being in a different place, with new life skills and goals, and new coping mechanisms. It's a like a whole new challenge. We'll see in a couple of months if the bitchiness smooths out, but, if it doesn't, I think maybe I'm okay with that. I just want to work.

I suspect I could really pick this whole thing apart, this rollercoaster, and lots of my current emotional state could be attributed to external issues. Like the chaotic state of our apartment. Having my stuff packed and the walls open with fiberglass hanging out, and dust everywhere, and shoddy tradesmen, and not having my own space, free of garbage and intrusions....it's making my neck muscles pulsate. Anyway, it's an interesting time. I'll tell you this much, it's making me a better writer and a better comic. I need the nerves. Plus, being bitchier makes me less social, which makes me concentrate more on the work. I suspect a cull of less thick skinned friends is in the offing. Not purposely, but I have a feeling some people will just slide themselves out of the picture.

Had sets last night at Yuk Yuk's and the night before at Darby's. Oh, LORD, do I love being back. I want to get on at the Funnybone, the newest Vancouver club, but it's big, and I have some work to do. I think I must be evolving in some way, because yesterday when I told Sean Proudlove that I want to do the Funnybone, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "You're gonna have to work a lot harder". Instead of getting uptight or upset about it, I was, like, "Yah, no kidding". Because I do. Because he didn't mean I have to work a lot harder at everything in the entire world all the time, he wasn't saying I don't work hard, he just meant, if I want to do rooms like that, then I am going to have to dedicate myself to the craft for real. And he's right. And I am. So. Hopefully by the end of March I will have a solid 30-45 minute set. I think it's a realistic goal. I mean, I can do a pretty tight 10-15, with lots of leftover material, but I'm going to have to start pushing to book longer sets, so I can see how it goes. And hosting, I'm going to have to start hosting. All the stuff everyone else is doing. It hits home when I see where the guys are now who started at the same time as me and just put their heads down and didn't get derailed by personal tragedy or theatre in the countryside.

So here it is. My life. Harder, but better. So, maybe easier for all it harderness. Anyway, just getting used to myself again. It's an interesting war, Art.

x
r.

untitled

2006-09-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Booked it. Ha! We shoot tomorrow night. Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner! Got a callback for the second audition, but haven't heard anything, so likely don't have it. Still, though, I'm battin' five hundred.

Lost my keys yesterday, on Granville Island, with my bike locked up there. Looked everywhere, turned my backpack upside down, twice, went all around the island twice, etc. Was a bit sad, walking home with my groceries. Got home, keys fell out of some magical bind they'd gotten themselves in somewhere on the outside of my backpack. Weird. Anyway, now back to the island to pick up the bike. I felt crazy when it happened, like...craaaaaaaazy.

I logged on thinking I would have more to say in a blog entry, because I hadn't entered one for so long, but I don't. I have some things I'd like to say, but it's possible that a public forum is not the place. I think I'll go write in my supersecretblog.

x
r.

Like silly putty.

2006-09-20T11:21:00.000-07:00

Mmph. Post Fringe hangover. Pissing pissing with rain, not helpful. But a bit cozy, to be honest. Though I have to go out in it. Remember last week when I had my first ever commercial audition? Did I mention it? No? Well, I did. Two of them in a row, matter of fact. Anyway, the first one has garnered a callback, so that is great. I wanna book it. Bad. Mama needs the dosh, you see. So that's today. Oddly, they're calling me back for two roles other than the one I originally auditioned for. I think that's a good sign. The casting director gave really good feedback to my agent, so that's good, too, cause it means she'll want to see me again for things. My horoscope has been saying (loosely translated from the flaky) that I should prepare for all the things to happen that I have always wanted, but that if I don't remain calm and do the work and instead get too excited I will never be able to reap the rewards. Which is exactly what I thought. So I am doing my best. Does writing about things in your blog count as getting overexcited? Maybe just this once it's ok. I scratch my head. Breathing seems to be very helpful, pretty much all day every day. Have you noticed that?

Did you hear that Fashion Week in Spain has been thrown into chaos because the local government pressured the organizers into banning any models that are too skinny from the runways? Excellent. Ha! They even put a number on it, saying no girls with a body mass index below 18.5. The BMI isn't the best way of measuring, but it's a start. Maybe everyone has finally had to see too many pictures of war torn and starving people and realized that that's what we're asking our women to look like. Ich. Let us be pink and round!

xo
r.

Good Review

2006-09-14T12:27:00.000-07:00

A Little Life "What a great concept: you get to be the studio audience for a talk show with a different special guest every night. In the show I saw, host Riel Hahn interviewed Vancouver actor Marjorie Malpass, with periodic interruptions from performers Jeff Gladstone, Tallulah Winkelman, and Tom Jones, who improvised scenes based on Malpass's memories of her (extraordinary) life. There was a family dinner, a walk through her first student apartment, and a glimpse of Malpass's future. Not every scene was meant to be funny, and the perfomers displayed impressive flexibility, even improvising a show tune. A remarkably intimate, playful and affectionate celebration of one person's life."

-Kathleen Oliver, The Georgia Straight, Sept. 14/06

So come see it, yo.

Thursday, September 14th, 11pm, w/ Jacques Lalonde
Saturday, September 16th, 2:45pm, w/ Alex Dallas
Saturday, September 16th, 11:15pm, w/ Jason Bryden
Sunday, September 17th, 2:45pm, w/ a guest chosen from the audience
Sunday, September 17th, 9:30pm, w/ a very special guest TBA

x
r.

Fringeyness

2006-09-08T13:37:00.000-07:00

We, the Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls, opened our show, "A Little Life", at the Vancouver Fringe Festival last night. It is excellent and new every single time. So much to learn! We have NINE shows left, so there's no excuse, really, for not seeing it if you are in Vancouver, or even near Vancouver. So look slightly to your right and click on "Riel's Upcoming Shows" or "Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls" and find a date and time you'd like to see it, then show up there, get a ticket, come in, watch the show, be amazed!

Smooches,
r.

Water's boiling!

2006-09-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

Phone's back on. In case you were wondering.

Apparently it wasn't not having a phone that was causing all my anxiety this week. I know that because my stomach acids are still in an uproar. My jaw is clenched, my brow furrowed, heartrate up, attention span short, all energy focused inwards. Have noticed myself gripping the arms of chairs as though suffering a rough takeoff in an airplane. I suppose I feel a bit like things are racing towards something, and, how unusual, I feel like there's no brakes and we're about to careen off a cliff or into a brick wall. I have dreams like this sometimes. And we do go off the cliff or into the wall.

It's all ridiculous, of course. I'm anxious because things are going well and the smell of success terrifies me. I mean, I have reasons to worry, but they should not cause me nearly the level of consternation and hand wringing I am experiencing. I will get over this. I will. But just at the moment I am freaking out that I won't live up to my own expectations or anyone else's. All these wonderful people believe in me so much, I don't want to fuck it up. I want to be very sure I'm making the right moves. I think I am, or it wouldn't be so scary. That's the thing, right, to choose the scariest path. Then you know for sure it's what you were meant to do. That's HOW you know what to choose.

So, here I am, following the scariest path, and someone told me today to relax and enjoy it, and I think I will, but not 'til the labour produces some fruit. Possibly as soon as the Rascalls Fringe Show opens...then...then I might relax. Maybe. We'll see. Currently not my strong suit. Tears and gnashing of teeth on an hourly basis. As soon as one person has me calmed down, I ramp up again and someone else has to talk me off the ledge all over again. It gets very real when everyone invests in you and you know that you have to produce returns on their investments. On my own investment. Gnash, gnash.

I still think, hope, that great things are going to happen for me. ARE happening for me. I get more and more scared the closer it gets. My people are telling me good things, reminding me that this is normal artist behaviour. Normal. Ha!

Everywhere I go people look at me with this funny look on their face. They stare, they cock their head questioningly. I told my friend Sparky that yesterday and she looked me dead in the eye and said in all seriousness, "It's because you're famous." I was like, not yet, and she was like, yeah, but they know you're gonna be! That was a pretty nice thing. Then Siobhan said, "Quit being so afraid of success." And I was like, I'm trying, but it's making me puke! What the fuck? I'm sure I'll calm down soon, I'm sure. So weird.

The whole experience of going where I always knew I would kind of takes me out of my body and into kind of a dream like state. In fact, it feels like dreams I've had. Just this sensation like I'm floating up off the ground. I need a tether. Eating and sex are a relief because they both require me to really be in my body, which makes me feel human again, and not ethereal. But the rest of the time...ghost city. I am vaporous. Vaporous? Is that a word? I can't tell, I'm made of steam.

Phoney Business

2006-08-28T00:40:00.000-07:00

Phone cut off. Contact me through my MySpace, just click on the link over there --> that says "Riel's Upcoming Shows". That takes you to my MySpace site. You can leave comments here and they will be emailed to me. I'm not gonna leave my email address here, for some reason. I am also not going to complain about my phone getting cut off, because it's my own shit, but I'm pretty sure it's not complaining to just state that it makes me anxious and grouchy. Which, of course, again, is my own doing, but, still, there it is.

I'm going to go cry over what a loser I am. Hopefully it will put me to sleep, otherwise I will only lay there and suffer from consternation. Which has nothing to do with fibre and everything to do with running in circles in my own head.

But I'm not making sense. My,my, how unusual. Fine. You know what? Let us consider this my nonsensical blog entry. A stream of conciousness, though not written unconciously, so perhaps not a stream, but, like, a controlled dam. Like, there's the river of conciousness and there's the dam on the river and there has been a big rainstorm of conciousness so I am just opening the dam a little, (the levy?), and relieving the pressure of all that conciousness building up. You see? Even if you don't see, I don't care.

I need a job. I hope all the job applying I've done lately makes something happen. I hope the jobs I've applied for via email respond via email and not via telephone. I'm kinda scuppered with the whole job search/no phone thing. Stupid me.

Yeah, that's the crux of it. Stupid me. I have to stop doing things that result in my feeling stupid. I don't do things like that all the time, but regularly enough. Or, conversely, perhaps I just need to stop feeling stupid about things. Foolish 34 year old that still can't keep her head abover water. (Oh, yes, Anonymous, I'm talking to YOU! I still have things I worry about, no matter how hard you've tried.)

I'm going to go grind my teeth and fall asleep. If I CAN fall asleep, what with all the worrying I'll be doing about my future dentistry bills due to teeth grinding.

x
r.

PS

2006-08-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

Look over on the right and at the top of the links you will see a link to my MySpace site, where you can keep abreast of all my upcoming gigs. Now I will no longer be updating that gak here. Thank you.

Apples and Bananas.

2006-08-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

Made it to New York City safe and sound, y'all. Interesting travel day, being the day after the Heathrow arrests. We ended up quite dehydrated, that's for sure. And I had a lip balm confiscated.

New York City, which I remembered being in love with, is even better than I remembered. All human emotions and experience has been thrown into a big salad/stew/pie thing and it's sweet tangy spicy tart delicious. I love being here even though it has been a total rollercoaster. How does two days feel like three weeks? Amazing.

The show is going well, though all things surrounding the show have been insanely frustrating. We arrived at our Saturday morning tech rehearsal to discover that we don't have a venue tech, so there's nobody really running the space, so no matter how hard you try to get it so that you can set up your show in the alotted 15 minutes, everything you so carefully planned will have been fucked with by the time you arrive the next day. And the venue director is a bureaucrat to the max, only able to spout the rules, unable to flex. She and I got to the point where I suggested we never speak again and only Kim should talk to her. Kim is Penelope's boyfriend and a total gem. Anyway, not having to deal with her, (which, by the way, I did my best to do diplomatically), has freed me up to just deal with the technical nightmare. Yesterday I ended up in tears in St. Patrick's Cathedral. Strange, strange day. I cried and cried in a Catholic church. I don't think God thought it was weird, though, I think God gets it.

My computer has been acting up like a crazy little machine, and currently seems to have deleted ALL my writing. Solo show, standup, play....whatever else there was. Interestingly, I had actually created a backup folder just in case something like this were to happen, but, as it turns out, if you only back up a folder in the backup folder, and not each individual file, then you only end up with an alias of the folder, and no actual files. So, I think I've lost all my writing. Sigh. I'm trying to just take it in stride. Bicycle stolen, writing lost...etc. The universe is trying to tell me something. I'm not sure what it is yet because as I try to examine it I end up just looking up at all the beautiful buildings and down at all the crazy people and handsome people. There is a lot to occupy your mind here.

My eyelids are purple and swollen from the tears yesterday. And my bowels are in an uproar because all I had for dinner yesterday was a giant bowl of jello. There is a diner across the street that has the best jello ever. Me and Ken, the guitar player in the show, sat in the diner and talked and talked and talked for hours, he is a great listener and a swell guy. We tried to get to the root of my emotional vomiting, and ended up talking about the most interesting things. Anyway, we ate a lot of jello when I was supposed to be having a meal and now we are all paying for it because there are four of us in a teensy studio apartment.

Ken reminded me of all the things that could be contributing to being overwrought, and gently reflected that maybe I am too hard on myself in terms of my expectations of my own strength.

I am having some grief come up, to be sure. Being in the city where my stepdad grew up, but realizing I have no idea where to go to touch base with his roots, and I guess I always thought I would come here with him and be able to get to know his history. Ken's mom died when he was 21 so he has lots of long term healing insight, plus he works in social services and his girlfriend works in post trauma counselling. He had lots of good things to say. And now I'm going to stay with my friend Briana in Queens and she's a therapist, so I think I'm in good hands.

Okay, I have to get in the shower. More to come.

Nutshell - NYC is beauty, (pronounce it bay-you-dee), and I am a strange blend of hormones and memory.

xo
r.

My favourite thing was the horn.

2006-08-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

My bike got stolen today. The rain that's happening clearly has something to do with this sad event. Actually, I WAS really sad about it, (it sucks waking up and going to where your bike used to be and now there's nothing), but a very good friend has offered to get me a new one. That's a pretty good friend, I'll tell you what. I felt kind of weird about it, but then I thought about not having a bike, and that he wouldn't offer if he didn't want to...anyway, I'm gonna let him. Aren't I sweet? No, wait, I mean...oh, never mind.

Stupid bike thieves. It wasn't even a good bike. Why not waste your thieving time on something you can get something for? Thiefy could probably get thirty bucks for my bike, or something like that. Grrr. Wait, I remember, I'm not mad anymore. Right.

New York City on Friday. It's not going to be hot there at all...ha ha, yes it will!

Excellent fundraiser/preview for the Rascalls Fringe show this past Saturday. Show was lovely, we learned so much, and it was simpler and more magical than even we thought it would be. And all were warm and generous, we got excellent feedback and made some dough to cover our production budget. Inspiring. I was so nervous before we did our show that I couldn't move the right side of my body. It was intense. I'm quite proud of us. Everyone should come see our Fringe show, (don't worry, I'll be reminding you of dates and times often), because I think it's going to be innovative and sweet and funny.

In a nutshell.

x
r.

My hair's on fire, put me out.

2006-07-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

I am cleverly ensconced in the Okanagan Valley this week. Aren't I smart? Rivers and lakes abound, though I haven't actually dipped myself in yet. Likely later today. Mmmm, swimming.

Driving home from the Caravan Farm Theatre last night, (where I have roped myself into some volunteering...getting some things ship shape. Spent too many years implementing systems that worked to see it all crumble now. Have a meeting shortly to make sure all box office and front of house issues have been addressed), so driving from there to my mum's place and could see the deep orange glow of a forest fire over the hill. Watched it for a long time to see if it was moving our way. No officials have been here to say we're in any danger, so that's good, but it is smokey today, but the wind seems to have settled down, so that's good. Fire season upon us with a vengeance. Fire season, so strange it has it's own season. Like it goes winter, spring, summer, fire, fall.

Wanted to remind you all that I am feeling lazy about updating my upcoming gigs list on the blog, so you can check out my myspace site, www.myspace.com/rielhahn, for all pertinent info, 'til I get back on the regularity train with el bloggo.

Chuffed to be able to say that the Caravan show is quite wonderful this year. MacBeth, you see, one of Shakespeare's shortest, and set in the woods, and so beautiful and solid performances and direction. Huzzah!

Am trying to write something based on the phrase "farm noir" which I came up with last night. Pretty funny, I think.

xo
r.

my lazy eye is on strike

2006-07-17T00:18:00.000-07:00

If you hear squeaking it's probably just my rusty typing muscles working out the kinks. I know, so few and far between lately. As soon as there is reliable wireless in my pod, well, I promise nothing. Never mind.

Very good set tonight at the Media Club, much better than Friday's at Stages. Strange, since Stages was packed and the Media Club was, well, not. But the sweet little audience tonight was so attentive and ready to laugh. I tried a new bit and it went over well. Finally trying to mine my Jewiness for comedy gold. You'd think that all the good Jew material would have been done by now, but it seems this is not so. And the clever little bits that I keep thinking up, you'd REALLY think those ones had been rehashed umpteen times, but, apparently not so, either.

I think I am still drunk from last night. Went to my first ever lesbian wedding. It seems noteworthy, what with all the gay marriage talk. Very beautiful ceremony on the beach and a lovely little reception. Danced and visited with many of my good friends, and when it was over a few of us went to someone's house, then two of us walked to Denny's and ate steak and eggs at 4am, then walked home. Got home around 5:20am and watched "Spanglish" with Adam Sandler. If you have not seen this movie yet, DON'T!! That has got to be one of the worst pieces of filmic garbage I have ever been too drunk and lazy to turn off. Garbage, I say!!

So, in case I haven't mentioned to you in person, because I have been telling everyone, the big news this week is that I finally signed with an agent. This is very good news for me and I'm pretty excited about what we're gonna get done together. I'm hoping for some good touring opportunities, and who knows. Anyway, it's the next step and I'm really happy to be taking it. I've never done anything for this long before, and have never been so patient with my progression in something. I sure am having a good time.

I'm so happy not to be sad anymore. I know there will be more sad ahead, but it's a relief to be feeling like all I have to focus on is work and moving forward. I feel like darling Phil is with me all the time, ready to give advice to me in my head, should I need it. I pretended to call him on my cell phone the other night and had an imaginary conversation with him, though my end was actually out loud, but it was cool because I felt like the answers I was getting from him were what he would have said were he still with us. Sigh. I do miss him a lot still.

Little by little, y'all, it's all coming together.

Bio dad, will you call me please?

x
r..

What? No Parade?

2006-07-05T15:13:00.000-07:00

It's true. I arrived back in Vancouver last week and couldn't believe the lack of fanfare. I mean, there WERE fireworks, but I'm pretty sure that had to do with Canada Day. Although...

Home again. For a bit. Jonesing to get to the country and spend some time with my mum. She says it's been 900 degrees where she is, which might be an exaggeration. But I bet it feels that hot. I know how it can get there, where your brain seems to be on the verge of bursting into flames. At least it's a dry heat, and there are lakes and rivers nearby, for the moment. Who knows what will happen with all the climate change and whatnot. They'll use up all the water trying to put out all the fires. Yes, yes, fire season is upon us again. Amazing that it has it's own season. So, sometime after the 15th I'm headed up there. Why the 15th, you may ask? I'm goin' to a wedding. A lesbian wedding! My first ever. I'm excited. Not because it's lesbian, okay maybe a bit, but because the marry-ees are good together. I like going to weddings where I think it's a good idea for the people to be getting married.

Had a wicked good show at the Urban Well last night. Third show since I've been back from the east and I have learned something. I was so nervous for all my shows back east that I harnessed the energy and attacked. Then I got back to Vancouver and immediately did two lazy shows. No more. That is this week's lesson. Never can I do a set like it doesn't matter. Every goddamned one matters. So I MADE myself nervous last night. I paced and got dressed up and put on lipgloss and went over my set a hundred times and worked myself into quite a lather. It worked. So now I know I'm in control of how I am on stage. I really, really know it. I gotta show up every single time. I fucking love this. Am convinced of my imminent success.

Special to Anonymous

2006-06-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

I replied to your comment. In case you missed it. I will never set you free.

"I could crush your head like a nut, but I won't, because I need you." - Strange Brew

"You fool, don't you realize I could have poisoned you a thousand times over if I didn't need you so much?" - Cleopatra

like that.

x
r.

UPCOMING SHOWS - revised 06/25

2006-06-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

STANDUP

Wednesday, June 28th, The Orange Room, 620 Sixth Street, New Westminster, 8:30pm, $5.

Thursday, June 29th, Wink, 8th Ave at Main street, 9pm, by donation.

Tuesday, July 4th, Urban Well, Cornwall and Yew, Vancouver, 7:30pm, $7

Friday, July 14th, 10pm, Blue's Comedy, Stages at the Holiday Inn, 711 West Broadway.

OTHER

August 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th, (Weds, Thurs, Fri, Sat), 8:45pm, 1937 West 2nd Avenue on the glorious rooftop deck...(rain or shine, the audience is covered!), $5

Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls Theatre presents "A Little Life", a truly unique improvisational theatre experience. Starring Riel Hahn, Tallulah Winkelman, Jeff Gladstone, and Tom Jones. Inspired by the true life story of our special guest! Doors at 8pm. Food and booze available for sale. Wednesday and Saturday stay for the fireworks! Come early for a preshow sunset.
x
r.

Awwwwwttawa.

2006-06-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

Lazy weekend in Ottawa. Came down with some kind of feverish illness yesterday, lightheaded and hot and cold. Dragged my ailing ass down to the fringe for our second to last show, then over to the comedy club...because...the set went so well on Wednesday's pro/am night, the booker invited me to come back and do a weekend spot. Very cool. Very exciting. Set last night was not quite as tight as Wednesday's, but still went very, very well, indeed. Will feel good to go back to Vancouver with a few hot eastern shows under my belt. Definitely need to do some goal setting with regards to my future in comedy. Make a plan. (Who IS this girl???)

Looking much forward to getting back to BC, where I understand how to care for my hair and skin. Going to head up to my mummy's for a bit at some point in July, likely after the 15th. A week or so up there, swimming and whatnot, hanging out with my sweet aging dog, see the opening of the Caravan Farm Theatre's "MacBeth". Ah.

Much about this trip has been good and soul filling. So much love and family and friends, good connection with my bio dad. Great, actually. Hoping we sometime again get to live in the same part of the world. He's convinced that I will never leave Vancouver, but I am not. I still find Montreal and Toronto and NYC thrilling with their edginess and urban drive. Must, of course, carefully consider the career options and where would best serve me in that department. Montreal is romantic, and I know I could carve a lovely social niche for myself, but as for a comedy career, who knows. Anyway, at least another year in Vancouver as the Rascalls solidify our attachment to one another and hopefully make plans for serious touring next year. Lots of wiggle room, naturally, in case something crazy happens. Knowing me, something crazy is just around the corner.

Hm. I'm going to go watch episode 2 of season 3 of entourage now. I looooves having high speed interweb. Ooooh, or maybe I'll just pop downstairs and watch the end of the Argentina/Mexico soccer game. FIFA has dominated all since I've been east. So much cheering. Not so much in Ottawa, but Montreal was bonkers for it. Ottawans are enjoying it all politely, it seems. Diplomats one and all.

x
r.

notashottawa

2006-06-22T10:51:00.000-07:00

i prayed so very hard for rain and cooler weather, and the last few days have been very beautiful. next few days full of lots of visiting with old friends and eating food with them. good good. computer batter very low and cord in other room and me too lazy to plug in...so wanted to say feeling much better and still promising to write more and longer later. promises, promises.

x
r.

Hottawa

2006-06-18T20:41:00.000-07:00

oh

my

god

i am a puddle of sweat and baby powder. a soggy teacake. i miss my rainforest. hell, i miss the air conditioned van i was in a few hours ago. oh, god. i have this heat rash that started a few days ago in montreal, it calms down when i have a cold shower, but right now i am the grossest mess of itchy red bumps. i am wearing my most uncomfortable pair of cranky pants. I gotta get off the computer, actually, becuase it is, in fact, on my lap, where a laptop should be, but it's fucking hot, so it's not helping anything. a million hot needles are pricking me all over my body. my kingdom for a 24 hour pharmacy and some lanacane! i'd sell my soul to the devil for a breeze. go jump in something if you think you're getting the fun montreal stories right now. i'm jumping in another cold shower. 3rd today! sheesh.

first show went well here tonight, and i schmoozed my way into a standup gig on wednesday, so that's good. schmoozing. sheesh.

oh, god, hot laptop! i gotta go. more once i've found a tub of ice to sit in.

x
r.

I dangle a carrotte

2006-06-10T09:17:00.000-07:00

I know, I KNOW! Here I am in Montreal, and all this crazy fun stuff is happening, and I haven't said a damned word about it. I plan to, I honestly do, but we've been busy little beavers. Lot's of intrigue surrounding our technical rehearsal yesterday, and having it out with the Fringe bigwigs over their lack of professionalism....oh, God, and Dave Shumka is the reason my laughing muscles are so sore.

I know I said this about Toronto when I was there last year, but I want to live here. People look you right in the eyes here, and no one thinks I'm crazy for talking to strangers. Last night walking home a very handsome frenchman told me I was "tres jolie". Hurray Montreal!

More soon, I promise.

Worse than none at all.

2006-06-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

What a gig last night. Such a good set at El Cocal. I love doing shows there because every time I do it brings me back to myself, to what I know is funny. Last couple of shows have been...drab, I guess. Not terrible, but not sparkly, and left me scratching my head a bit about what I did wrong. Then El Cocal reminds me that what I did wrong was try to do something not myself. It's better when I just get up and tell my stories, read the room a bit, get to know what they want. Oh, it's just so worth it when there's all that laughing and cheering. Even from thirty people. Yum.

Looks like I may have booked a gig in Montreal...just waiting for confirmation. Very exciting. Keeping my fingers crossed for Ottawa, too. Oooooh...I can't stand it!!

Vic Lippucci is going on my list of people to thank when I win something. He hooked up the gig in Montreal, so huzzah to him. It's very heartening when people are willing to put themselves out for you. It makes me want to work that much harder, that's for sure.

I'll tell you what makes me want to work even harder, watching Erica Sigurdson perform lately. That girl is on fire, she is working so hard and getting so good. I mean, she was already good, but she is tearing it up these days. Makes me want to get there, too. Work worky work work.

That's your taste of honey for today. I gotta clean up my room.

x
r.

BLT

2006-05-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

Oh, for God's sake. I started writing an entry, erased it, started another one, erased that. I was trying to sound chipper and whatnot, and it just sounded shrieky and false. You know why? I'm not chipper. I'm fuckin' serious, if you want to know. I will admit that the new hairstyle has rendered me awfully cute, but cuteness does not make up for a furrowed brow. Botox, botox, botox. Last night I fantasized about getting my teeth fixed, a professional haircut and a personal trainer. Myself is at war with myself. My greedy, attention loving, fame seeking self wants to win. My socialist, compassionate self wants to take care of everyone. Hence the furrowed brow as I attempt to drown out these voices with pure, concentrated focus on comedy. Just stand up and be funny. That's all I want. I am letting go of caring what state the rest of my life is in, as long as I can do comedy. Be funny, stay alive. So everything else destabilizes, things get done and undone, relationships fail and change and hearts are broken. Things long held inside are given up to the Gods for want of a clearer mind. Just stand up and be funny. Likely this can be seen as a truly assholic phase, but I can not care, I can only be funny. That is all there is. That is all. Funny is truth, truth is funny.

I'm hungry. (Like for a sandwich, I mean.)

x
r.

Indulge me. I did.

2006-04-24T23:04:00.000-07:00

You can now hear the full podcast of my appearance on Guy MacPherson's radio show, "What's So Funny". It's an hour interview with me, plus a couple of comedy clips. I listened to it last night and I don't come off too badly. Honk honk.

http://comedycouch.com/podcasts/Whats_So_Funny_RHahn.mp3

x
r.

The People Have Spoken

2006-04-17T18:10:00.000-07:00

Well, Anonymous has spoken, at any rate. Don't ask me why I'm going to start listening to Anonymous all of a sudden....so I'm gonna stick around the blogging. I can't seem to want to commit myself wholly to MySpace. This is way less culty. A lot more people look at MySpace, though, so I'll leave it up. But I'm not blogging over there, no way. NO WAY!

Did you know that there had been sunshine today? It streams in the window, I am like a cat trying to curl as much of my body into it as possible. Mmmm...I can't wait 'til it's hot enough to fall asleep in the sun on a grassy knoll somewhere.

I think I've left it long enough to get someone a chocolate bunny at a seriously discounted price. Whaddaya think? Late Easter Monday, they oughtta have 'em marked down by now.

I got ahold of some bad fish or something yesterday, had a rather unpleasant evening, just serious nausea and whatnot. No more sushi, I'll tell you what. That's probably fine because my mum is coming to town on Friday and all she ever wants to eat while she's here is Chinese. No good Chinese where she lives. It makes her sad. Dim sum dim sum dim sum.

We are nearing the time of year where everything goes all loopy and I start to think about leaving town...luckily I am definitely going to Ottawa and Montreal for the Fringe Festivals in June, but I'm trying to decide what to do and where to be for the rest of the summer. Need work, and might be able to get some up at the Caravan, but can I stay out of Vancouver and away from standup for that long? I'm going to try to book some shows out east, so at least that'll keep me sharp. I love comedy so much it's getting weird. I want it more than anything else. Even when I don't do that well. Which, frankly, hasn't been happening that much lately. I have had an excellent run the last couple of weeks and it's making me write more and more jokes, and my material and myself are becoming one, and me onstage is more like me offstage, and it's friggin' thrilling, if you want to know the truth.

You know, on a completely other note, once I thought that Anonymous might be my dad posting posthumously. Isn't that weird? Now that I seem to be out of the whiny part of my grief cycle, maybe Anonymous will reveal themselves to me. Huh? Huh? Ya wanna?

So, here we are. Back where we started. And I shan't think of leaving again any time soon. Though I might be forced to write this while squatting in someone's back yard for 3 weeks, if I don't find a place to stay while the guy I sublet from comes back and gets his life moved, or whatever he's doing. I wonder what he is doing. Haven't heard his exact arrival date. I think it's in six days, though. Hm....I'm going over to MySpace to see if anyone wants to house me for a few days...coupla weeks, whatever. Anyone?

x
r.

Interwebbed

2006-04-17T01:07:00.000-07:00

Hmph. Have been having not very good reports of MySpace from people looking for my show listings. Apparently you can't look at anything in detail if you're not a member, which is a pain in the ass. The experiment might not be working. Also, I'm finding it a bit weird. Kind of fishbowly, or big brothery, or something. People all up in my bidness. As it were. Plus, user interface is important. I don't always keep my listings totally up to date here on blogger, but at least it's a nice, soft green colour, and it's kind of quiet. MySpace is like a small town. Infidelia is like being in a field. Ahhhhhh...this feels really nice here. Very relaxing. Maybe MySpace can be my city house, and Infidelia my country house. I've always wanted both. I don't know, but I'll make an effort to keep things more current here, because I kind of missed it. Sigh. What I won't do for boys.

x

BULLETIN

2006-04-09T01:48:00.000-07:00

okay, hobos. i'm moving. well...virtually, anyhow. i'm trying to figure out how to link my blog to my myspace site. i've discovered that the calendar on myspace is very convenient, and it's much easier to see dates and showtimes of mine there. easier for me to update, as well. i'd like to consolidate my interweb life. so i'm saying that i might not write here much. i'm not entirely sold on giving up the warrior princess, but maybe i am, too. erm...i'm not sure i have a blog in me anymore. for a while, anyway. i think maybe i've worked out what i needed to work out here, and now i just need to work. see?

anyway, while i think this over, find me at:

www.myspace.com/rielhahn

it's concise.

xox

Just a nice thing.

2006-03-30T01:56:00.000-08:00

One morning earlier this week I was on my way to work, via the bus. It was a nice morning, no rain, a little sun, not too early. I had my ipod on and was having a sweet ease into the day walking to the busstop. I got on the bus and saw a friend sitting at the very back, wearing headphones and reading one of those free dailies we have now. He looked up, we waved and I gestured that I didn't want to talk, I was listening to music, he indicated his paper and headphones and we smiled. I sat next to him and after a few seconds put my arm around him. A beat, then he put his head on my shoulder and kind of leaned into me and continued reading. We stayed like that until my stop, when I kissed him on the forehead and got off the bus. We waved and blew kisses, both beaming. We never uttered a word. It was one of the best mornings I have had in a long time.