On June 23, 1984, at 11:24am, I was dragged, kicking and screaming in protest, into this world. The site of my abduction was Livingston, NJ, at St. Barnabas Medical Center. This crime against humanity and myself occured 26 years ago today.
I remember very little of the day. Dare I say that I actually remember nothing. Traumatic experiences, as I understand it, have a way of remaining hidden in the psyche. We bury these thoughts so that we can function, unhindered by our destructive memories.
LUCKILY, knowing that the world would be interested in hearing my side of the story, I immediately began work on my memoirs. I was determined to bring a frightening realism to my story, and hoped to inspire those who would surely follow in my footsteps.
Just some of the excerpts from these early journals include how, at two months, I had already mastered NASA's space programs, and how in August I captained the space shuttle DISCOVERY on its maiden Earth orbit. On January 28th of the following year, I attended (and performed a solo in) the recording of "We Are The World" by USA For Africa, but I was later cut due to poor diction, and replaced by Cyndi Lauper. In August of '85, a little over one year old, I remote navigated the submarine craft ARGO to the crash of the R.M.S. Titanic, and negotiated the deal that would release the video game TETRIS to the public market.
The next few months were spent weaning myself off of the bottle. Alcoholism had become a major crutch in my early years, and though I've never revealed it to the public, I did manage to leave it behind. I haven't had a single sip since.
In 1987, at almost three years old, I made a plea to the White House requesting that the day of my sister's birth (Jan. 19) be made a Federal Holiday. My request was formally turned down, unfortunately. I was told that it conflicted with Ronald Reagan's personal "Space Between Holidays" rule, and that they had just observed the first Martin Luther King Jr. day a year prior on January 20. To this day, I think we could've gotten that one, Christina, if you'd just been born one damn year sooner.
Flash forward a few years. The birth of my brother, Daniel (suspiciously followed 10 days later by the now infamous 1991 Perfect Storm), and our short-lived partnership as fighter/manager in the world of professional wrestling. He would become known as "The Jersey Demon" and enjoy moderate success in the coming years. A tragic accident involving him and the dismemberment of another pro wrestler ended his career a little short. Daniel was aquitted of all charges.
There was my capture and return of John Wayne Gacy after he escaped an Illinois correctional facility just hours before he was scheduled for execution (those events are, to this day, denied by media and law enforcement to have ever occured). My foiled robbery of Pablo Picasso's Tête de Femme from the London Gallery, and my spoken word/underwater saxophone performance of the song "The Morning After" at the funeral reception of British actor Roddy McDowall.
Flash past all of that. Here we are, June 23, 2010. I am an aspiring performing artist, despite creativity not being my strong-suit. I work for a children's enrichment company, and I audition often in New York City, USA, hoping and begging to be allowed the opportunity to play pretend in front of grown ups.
Hopefully...just hopefully, something interesting will happen this year.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Mission Nutrition and Healthy Choices
My job (here unnamed educational enrichment program)offers two health-based classes. I think i'd like to teach them at some point. I think i'd be the perfect role model for them, in fact.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Why both of my dogs are for sale, and why i'm giving restaurants a discount.
It's been a while since i've blogged. It's been around 20 days. That's almost three weeks, which in some minds is almost a month. Long time.
I've been aware of this. I've been aware of the need to sit down and type out something, anything, just to make sure I keep going. I thought about this tonight, and with some time on my hands, I began brainstorming exactly what to write about. I've got a few topics in my head that i've been kicking around. They're topics that are not time sensitive, and that I can write about at any time. I just need to be in the right "mood" for them, that's all.
Wasn't in the mood for any of those.
Went about my business. Perused the internet. Played around with the new "design" feature on blogger. Then I decided, "you know what? I'm gonna go for a walk. I'll take my iPod, take my dogs, and go for a walk. It'll be good for me."
As all two of you know, i've been meaning to start exercising again. I don't mean "The bed must stay on the floor, the power of Christ compels you" exercising (ten points for getting old SNL references). I mean, walk, jog, sit ups, push ups exercising. My lack of attention to a daily fitness routine has definitely affected my life onstage and off.
"Good idea, Brendan. Way to use your time constructively!"
"Thanks, me!"
I put my socks on. I put my pants on (yes, my pants). I put my shoes on. I like wearing these things when I go out-of-doors. I turn off the laptop.
"Bye laptop! I'm gonna go for a walk with the dogs!"
"Good for you, Brendan! You're my best friend!"
"Thanks, laptop! See ya' later!"
"Haaaave fuuuun!"
"Weeee will!"
I grab my keys. I grab my phone. I walk out into the living room. The dogs had just eaten a little while prior, so it was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom before we went tooling around the neighborhood.
I'll repeat that, for my own mental benefit.
It was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom before we went tooling around the neighborhood. It was a good idea. It was. It was a very good idea, Brendan.
Good idea.
It would have been a really good idea. It really would have.
NO. It WAS a good idea. It WAS a GOOD idea.
One hiccup. Our fence (our very pretty, brand new, six foot tall, wooden fence) has three doors in it. Three. They have latches that keep the doors shut. Good stuff.
Well, one latch decided to take the night off, I guess. I don't know what happened. I don't know how, between six o'clock when I let them out earlier and eight thirty when I let them out again, the door became unhinged. I simply don't know, and I doubt I ever will.
It was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom, so I did. I don't usually watch them. I just open the door, and out they go. A few minutes later, I call them back, and in they come.
A few minutes go by.
"Oh boy! This is gonna be sooooo great! They're gonna love going for a walk! Yaaaaahoo!"
I go outside. I call them.
Nothing. No barks. No pitter patter. Silence.
I walk down the steps, toward the yard, and almost right away I see the open fence door. Wide open. There might as well have been two doggy shaped holes in the fence wall I was so shocked.
Fffffuck.
There's no other word, and there's no other appropriate spelling. Fffffuck.
I bolted inside for the dog whistle and some treats. I ran as fast as I could. I moved like a cat. Like a big, fat, sickly, slow-moving, cat. The intent was there.
What followed felt like hours of walking around the neighborhood calling the dogs' names. "LIBBY! LILO!" and then muttering under my breathe. I walked up the street. Down the next street. Up the next street. The whole time i'm calling and calling with no answer from anything. I stopped real walkers/joggers who were very much not out of breathe.
"Excuse me... Have you... seen a.... ahem... sorry... Have you seen two little.... ooh. Two little dogs?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"Ok, thank...phew....thanks anyway. LIBBY! LILO!"
Finally, I heard barking. I knew exactly who's barking it was, too. I headed back for the house and sure enough, there's Libby. She had come back home and was barking at the door, thinking I was inside. I think she was honestly saying "Hey! Hey! I'm ready to come in and have my treat now!"
I put her inside and closed the doors. One down, one to go. Only this was worse.
You see, our dogs are two very different personalities. Libby, I expected to come back. She's never run away, and in fact there have been oppurtunities to run away which she has passed up. Also, Libby is ruled by three things. #1 is food. #2 is food. #3 is me.
Had Libby been the only one to run away, I probably could have sat down and watched tv with full confidence that she'd be back. Lilo is another story.
Lilo doesn't care about food. She doesn't care "specifically" about me. Any human who can scratch her back and tummy will do just as well. Lilo is ruled by "RUN." "CHASE." "BARK AT OTHER DOG." Lilo wasn't just going to stroll back in the door, so it was back outside for me. Up the street. Down the street. "LILO!" "LILO!"
This was bad. This was really bad. It was getting darker and darker. Streetlights were already at full light. I walked up and down, up and down. "LILO! LILO!" Then every now and then, i'd stop and listen for her distinct barking. I knew I could tell her barking from another dogs. If the barking didn't instictively piss me off to the point of murder, it wasn't Lilo.
I kept walking. I was worried. I was very worried. Complain about her though I may, she's still one of my little puppies. She's still the Lilo half of Libby & Lilo. She still hops 5 feet in the air when she's excited, she still wags her tail when she sees me, and she still lies on my stomach when I sit on the couch. She's still my little Lilo.
A car sped past me. Had to have been doing at least 45. It's a 25mph residential zone. This guy almost hit me. What if my little idiot - marshmallow of a dog zipped out? I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't help it. My mind went to the darkest of the dark. Snapshots of the worst scenarios imaginable developed in my mind's eye and displayed themselves in full technicolor, and in some cases Imax 3D. My eyes teared as I saw myself kneeling on the ground in the middle of the street, hunched over a little red and white mass of wet fur.
What was I going to tell Laura? How was I going to tell her? What was she going to do? Say? How hurt was she going to be and how badly was the news of her lost little baby going to damage her?
"LILO! LILO!" Nothing.
I walked. I walked further and further. I wanted to stay close to the house, hoping she'd run home, but I knew that her ability to run fast and far was too strong. I ended up down by the local park when I heard it.
I heard a bark. It immediately pissed me off. Lilo.
I ran back toward the house. Okay, okay, I walked briskly back toward the house, taking clumsy sprints every couple of yards. In my mind I thanked God for Lilo being okay and cursed Lilo for being so close to the house. It was an interesting conflict of emotions. "Thank God you're okay! I'm gonna fuckin' KILL YOU NOW!"
She was barking loud and furious at a dog in some yard nearby. I couldn't see her. I opened the gate to my yard, and went inside, planning on going to the back gate and heading into the woods behind our property. "LILO!" I called.
The barking stopped. This was a pivotal moment. With Lilo, either one of two scenarios could play out at this juncture. In a split second, Lilo would make a choice. "I hear Brendan. I can A)Go to him, or I can B)Run as fast as possible in the exact opposite direction."
She came to me. I heard her run up through the neighbor's yard, and into ours, straight to me. She layed down at my feet right away, her chin apologetically touching the ground. I fell upon her. One hand tightly grasped her collar, the other pulled her in close to me.
"Jesus Christ, dog! Why the hell did you do that, huh? What the fuck is your problem? You scared the shit outta me!"
Why I said these things, I don't know, considering she was probably wondering what the hell I was so worked up about.
I brought her inside to her sister, who was relaxing on the couch. The two of them reunited and tumbled a minute, then sat and stared up at me, smiling as wide as possible.
"Didn't we have a great walk, Brendan? That was sooo much fun!"
I've been aware of this. I've been aware of the need to sit down and type out something, anything, just to make sure I keep going. I thought about this tonight, and with some time on my hands, I began brainstorming exactly what to write about. I've got a few topics in my head that i've been kicking around. They're topics that are not time sensitive, and that I can write about at any time. I just need to be in the right "mood" for them, that's all.
Wasn't in the mood for any of those.
Went about my business. Perused the internet. Played around with the new "design" feature on blogger. Then I decided, "you know what? I'm gonna go for a walk. I'll take my iPod, take my dogs, and go for a walk. It'll be good for me."
As all two of you know, i've been meaning to start exercising again. I don't mean "The bed must stay on the floor, the power of Christ compels you" exercising (ten points for getting old SNL references). I mean, walk, jog, sit ups, push ups exercising. My lack of attention to a daily fitness routine has definitely affected my life onstage and off.
"Good idea, Brendan. Way to use your time constructively!"
"Thanks, me!"
I put my socks on. I put my pants on (yes, my pants). I put my shoes on. I like wearing these things when I go out-of-doors. I turn off the laptop.
"Bye laptop! I'm gonna go for a walk with the dogs!"
"Good for you, Brendan! You're my best friend!"
"Thanks, laptop! See ya' later!"
"Haaaave fuuuun!"
"Weeee will!"
I grab my keys. I grab my phone. I walk out into the living room. The dogs had just eaten a little while prior, so it was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom before we went tooling around the neighborhood.
I'll repeat that, for my own mental benefit.
It was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom before we went tooling around the neighborhood. It was a good idea. It was. It was a very good idea, Brendan.
Good idea.
It would have been a really good idea. It really would have.
NO. It WAS a good idea. It WAS a GOOD idea.
One hiccup. Our fence (our very pretty, brand new, six foot tall, wooden fence) has three doors in it. Three. They have latches that keep the doors shut. Good stuff.
Well, one latch decided to take the night off, I guess. I don't know what happened. I don't know how, between six o'clock when I let them out earlier and eight thirty when I let them out again, the door became unhinged. I simply don't know, and I doubt I ever will.
It was a good idea to let them out to use the bathroom, so I did. I don't usually watch them. I just open the door, and out they go. A few minutes later, I call them back, and in they come.
A few minutes go by.
"Oh boy! This is gonna be sooooo great! They're gonna love going for a walk! Yaaaaahoo!"
I go outside. I call them.
Nothing. No barks. No pitter patter. Silence.
I walk down the steps, toward the yard, and almost right away I see the open fence door. Wide open. There might as well have been two doggy shaped holes in the fence wall I was so shocked.
Fffffuck.
There's no other word, and there's no other appropriate spelling. Fffffuck.
I bolted inside for the dog whistle and some treats. I ran as fast as I could. I moved like a cat. Like a big, fat, sickly, slow-moving, cat. The intent was there.
What followed felt like hours of walking around the neighborhood calling the dogs' names. "LIBBY! LILO!" and then muttering under my breathe. I walked up the street. Down the next street. Up the next street. The whole time i'm calling and calling with no answer from anything. I stopped real walkers/joggers who were very much not out of breathe.
"Excuse me... Have you... seen a.... ahem... sorry... Have you seen two little.... ooh. Two little dogs?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"Ok, thank...phew....thanks anyway. LIBBY! LILO!"
Finally, I heard barking. I knew exactly who's barking it was, too. I headed back for the house and sure enough, there's Libby. She had come back home and was barking at the door, thinking I was inside. I think she was honestly saying "Hey! Hey! I'm ready to come in and have my treat now!"
I put her inside and closed the doors. One down, one to go. Only this was worse.
You see, our dogs are two very different personalities. Libby, I expected to come back. She's never run away, and in fact there have been oppurtunities to run away which she has passed up. Also, Libby is ruled by three things. #1 is food. #2 is food. #3 is me.
Had Libby been the only one to run away, I probably could have sat down and watched tv with full confidence that she'd be back. Lilo is another story.
Lilo doesn't care about food. She doesn't care "specifically" about me. Any human who can scratch her back and tummy will do just as well. Lilo is ruled by "RUN." "CHASE." "BARK AT OTHER DOG." Lilo wasn't just going to stroll back in the door, so it was back outside for me. Up the street. Down the street. "LILO!" "LILO!"
This was bad. This was really bad. It was getting darker and darker. Streetlights were already at full light. I walked up and down, up and down. "LILO! LILO!" Then every now and then, i'd stop and listen for her distinct barking. I knew I could tell her barking from another dogs. If the barking didn't instictively piss me off to the point of murder, it wasn't Lilo.
I kept walking. I was worried. I was very worried. Complain about her though I may, she's still one of my little puppies. She's still the Lilo half of Libby & Lilo. She still hops 5 feet in the air when she's excited, she still wags her tail when she sees me, and she still lies on my stomach when I sit on the couch. She's still my little Lilo.
A car sped past me. Had to have been doing at least 45. It's a 25mph residential zone. This guy almost hit me. What if my little idiot - marshmallow of a dog zipped out? I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't help it. My mind went to the darkest of the dark. Snapshots of the worst scenarios imaginable developed in my mind's eye and displayed themselves in full technicolor, and in some cases Imax 3D. My eyes teared as I saw myself kneeling on the ground in the middle of the street, hunched over a little red and white mass of wet fur.
What was I going to tell Laura? How was I going to tell her? What was she going to do? Say? How hurt was she going to be and how badly was the news of her lost little baby going to damage her?
"LILO! LILO!" Nothing.
I walked. I walked further and further. I wanted to stay close to the house, hoping she'd run home, but I knew that her ability to run fast and far was too strong. I ended up down by the local park when I heard it.
I heard a bark. It immediately pissed me off. Lilo.
I ran back toward the house. Okay, okay, I walked briskly back toward the house, taking clumsy sprints every couple of yards. In my mind I thanked God for Lilo being okay and cursed Lilo for being so close to the house. It was an interesting conflict of emotions. "Thank God you're okay! I'm gonna fuckin' KILL YOU NOW!"
She was barking loud and furious at a dog in some yard nearby. I couldn't see her. I opened the gate to my yard, and went inside, planning on going to the back gate and heading into the woods behind our property. "LILO!" I called.
The barking stopped. This was a pivotal moment. With Lilo, either one of two scenarios could play out at this juncture. In a split second, Lilo would make a choice. "I hear Brendan. I can A)Go to him, or I can B)Run as fast as possible in the exact opposite direction."
She came to me. I heard her run up through the neighbor's yard, and into ours, straight to me. She layed down at my feet right away, her chin apologetically touching the ground. I fell upon her. One hand tightly grasped her collar, the other pulled her in close to me.
"Jesus Christ, dog! Why the hell did you do that, huh? What the fuck is your problem? You scared the shit outta me!"
Why I said these things, I don't know, considering she was probably wondering what the hell I was so worked up about.
I brought her inside to her sister, who was relaxing on the couch. The two of them reunited and tumbled a minute, then sat and stared up at me, smiling as wide as possible.
"Didn't we have a great walk, Brendan? That was sooo much fun!"
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