For more information on Erin Carere the singer, please visit:

For more information on Erin Carere the Hollywood screenwriter and actress, please visit:

Monday, August 31, 2015

old poems

A poem from an old journal. I was 19 or 20 years old an never capitalized "I." Oh, just read a little more along in the journal and based on the boyfriend (haha. ugh.) I was 20. It didn't work out with that guy... but to be honest, I don't think I was writing about him. Like all poets, I was writing to the future.

"i desire to know French as a native language
if that is the Tongue that could keep you close,
i desire to sing you Lullabies
if those were the Melodies with which i could set you free.
if i could just Hold your hand and trust what was between us,
i feel that the vacancy of my life could end
flashing, sparkling, bright.

In my nighttime, i Hear the quiet voice hearkening
and my soul yearns to reach your country
for i am borne of many as are you
and in our breath that lands of our birth
intermingle and in these dreams and kisses
we answer and i fly

stringing smiles along
the pine bristles against a window
smoke in my horizon
and the incense of the sea

whether it be sunny or dark or dry or floods
the memories of
how i love you so
and oh god
even in my drowsy state
my muscles tense and relax to moments of you
and years of my life
are miles away, dear, and All i
truthfully, honestly desire is to be always falling into you."

Saturday, August 29, 2015


Hey everyone!

I don't know if you've been following the interweaving threads,  but if you haven't read August, LA County Parts 1 and 2, you might want to only because you might be lost if you don't.

I don't want to get too terribly into details about why, from my late teens through early twenties, I missed out on the things that normal young women do: normal college life, normal relationships, normal career pursuing. Mine wouldn't have been normal actually, because I was going to either NYU or Manhattan School of Music or USC. But instead, I developed bad eating disorders, bad depression, bad relationships. Blah, blah, blah. You can read or see either of my one woman shows, The One or StandUpera (which I MAY be performing again in early 2016! Stay tuned!) to hear all about the tragedy and hilarity of my story. But I do want to say that during this time, instead of going to school to become a movie and Broadway star, I did different things: I performed in a burlesque cabaret called Le Cirque Rouge in Minneapolis as a regular, sometimes four times a week. I toured the country and Europe as a songwriter, and with my band. I wrote plays, one of which, called "My Life as a Phone Psychic, which I wrote before I eeeeever worked as a phone psychic but just did tarot readings for people, won some awards and which I then turned into a novel and it was by pursuing publication of that novel that I met Mark Husson and started working at as a phone psychic. :) How's that for psychic?! I self-released albums and directed short films and eventually moved to Los Angeles to pursue the big dream. Oh! And before that I was with this crazy German, going to weddings in castles and being full of drama- more about that soon enough.

So, while here in Los Angeles, I've had the usual run around stories of people trying to "help" me with my career. I will soon be blogging other parts of that one woman show again, The One, and will include some vignettes that share those stories.

When I very first moved here, I met a guy named... uh... let's just call him Tiger. That wasn't his real name, of course. But in reality, he is a nice enough guy. As Tom Waits once said to him, "A lotta guys are nice guys. I wanna know what I'm dealing with here." Well, he was nice. He is nice. I mean, as nice as any human who works in the entertainment industry for 40 years can be. Which is that weird combination of jaded and ever-hopeful. (Have you ever seen the Robert Altman movie "The Player," starring Tim Robbins? Like that guy only older.) I met this fellow at a networking party happy hour in Beverly Hills. If you're already rolling your eyes, go for it. The thing is, business has to happen. And if you're new to town, you gotta meet people. And I always like to be open minded about people and opportunities as much as possible.

So this guy, Tiger, he and his friend were chatting with me and my friend and he found out I was a singer. He agreed to listen to my demo and potentially offer career counseling- he had been a manager for some VERY famous acts- and of course, I hoped, more. And by more, I mean, representing me as a manager and getting me signed to a record deal as the next Annie Lennox.

To be fair:

At this time, I had starting wrecking my voice, vocally. It was after I had been bulimic a long time and was in rock bands screaming in clubs with bad sound. I was singing way too low and relying on very bad vocal habits to get me through a performance.

That is to say,

later, when I started rebuilding my voice by using opera technique and remembered how BEAUTIFUL my Broadway/ opera/ big ballad a la Celine Dion voice is, well, it would have been a WAY better time to meet Tiger as a PROFESSIONAL SINGER. And I met him when I was still in my 20s. I hate to say it, because I don't want it to be real for me, but each passing year after the age of, oh, say, 21, people are suspect as to why they haven't heard of you yet.

Unless you look like Susan Boyle and are a virgin (and she IS a wonderful singer!). Unless you have a story. I mean, hell, I gotta story now, but the story then was tragic but without the turnaround.

Anyway, so there I was, spending time with Tiger. He introduced me to a backup singer to the stars. He brought me to fancy Hollywood places like the Polo Lounge (okay, that's Beverly Hills) where we mingled with stars (like Keanu Reeves. I don't know how it is possible, but he is actually even MORE beautiful in person.) Eventually, he told me he wanted to discuss my career and I said "GREAT!" He said he would "send a car Friday night at 8."

The minute he said THAT, I started to worry. Why didn't he say, come into my office and bring your guitar? Let's meet Friday at 3 at a recording studio and play with some musicians? I mean, I was still hopeful enough to look for the best but I had now been in a band for a while and knew a LOT about how men operate. (Me and six boys in a tour van on and off for a few years. Yeah. I learned some stuff.)

Not only that, but I didn't want to mislead the guy. I didn't want him to think I was "like that." I didn't want to insinuate more than I was comfortable with.

BUT I also didn't want to be projecting on to him. And I thought I might be! I thought I might be projecting all my big bad wolf man fears onto him, fears I had well learned through a few other sticky situations (pun intended. Ew!) and through the years I did massage and had some weird clients AND through a few very controlling and manipulative and emotionally (and sometimes more) abusive boyfriends. (Learnin' a lot about me now, aren't ya?)

So, I decided to go ahead and just see.

The car picked me up and he was smoking away. I hate cigarette smoke. Like with a passion. Like I am kind of hardcore about not being around cigarettes unless you're my neighbor lady who reminds me of my grandma and smokes while she is watering the plants. But otherwise? ew. No.

Anyway. We arrived at what was at that time THE restaurant on the Sunset Strip, and they showed us to a table in the middle of the restaurant where everyone could see us.

I guess one upshot of this was that I was pretty enough to be considered a trophy wife.

Oh that is such an anti-feminist thought! Eeek! Don't tell Jane Mag, but also, please don't think of me like Ann Coulter. It's just a weird thought I have left over from the years I was an ugly duckling. If only that little girl could see she really was a swan after all

blah blah blah

back to the story. 

So we sat down to dinner and the conversation was not at all about my music, my singing, or my career. It was about wine, and LA, and stories from his life. A very handsome man passed by, smiled at me, and then stopped.

"Tiger!" [sic]

He invited us to join him and some of his clients in the lounge for drinks after dinner. After he left, Tiger looked at me apologetically. He was sorry, but this particular man was an attorney- actually, according to Tiger, he was one of the biggest in town (who knows, maybe that was true.) and we should really stop by and have drinks, just one, just to be social.

I was relieved, and intrigued. See, the attorney was closer to my age and very handsome. Me likey-d what me saw-y-ed. I realized there was no possibility there, of course, because the Minnesota Mind of Erin would never go on a date with the friend of another guy who was trying to date me, and now it was VERY clear that that's exactly what Tiger was trying to do. He wasn't trying to help me with my career, but he also wasn't trying to only get laid, either. He was asking me about children, and driving up to Napa, and etc. All that LA stuff. Did I like wines? How about spas in Palm Springs?

Sigh. The answer would have been, yes, but with a man who I was attracted to- perhaps one a little more age appropriate (sorry, I know that's a touchy subject for people, but I have ALWAYS imagined myself with someone fairly close to my age. Ask me when I'm 50, if I'm not married to my man, then I may be a cougar. But until then, I like relative closeness in age. And this is partially because at this point I had already dated primarily older men, guys around ten years older than me, anyway. And I didn't want that. And Tiger was my Dad's age, or maybe a year older.)

We finished dinner and went to the lounge where the attorney introduced us to everyone at the table. They were there for someone's birthday and my friend Tiger told everyone not only that I was a singer, but that I had been trained as an opera singer and I would LOVE to sing happy birthday. So, I did. I sang it a l'opera. :)

And the lounge went quiet while I sang.

I silenced one of the hottest bars in Hollywood.

And then it erupted in applause.

No one is used to having someone sing "Happy Birthday" in Italian loud enough to cut through the house music on the Sunset Strip, I guess.

A woman- no- nay- not a woman- an ethereal fairy tale looking queen- rose from the end of the table.

"My dear," she said, "That was marvelous. Come sit next to me."

I did. She was gorgeous. Blonde, buxom, plastic surgeried, but beautiful. I guessed her age around 38 although later her friend told me she was 52. She introduced herself as the widow of so and so, (a famous comedian.) She asked when Tiger and I would be getting married.

"Oh, no, no," I said, "I don't really want to get married."

She smiled.

"My dear," she said, "That is because you don't know what marriage can do for you. But with cheekbones like that? And I'd guess you're closer to 30 than 20? You should start thinking about it, fast. Tell you what. Why don't you come over to my house for a nightcap and I will show you what marriage has done for me."

She rose, then, almost hovering above her chair.

She clapped her hands.

"Everyone, we're all going to my house for a drink!"

The table erupted in cheers

We crammed into a few town cars that wound their way up the Hollywood Hills. Her house was incredible- the pool was built to look like a naturally occurring laguna. She showed me her Picassos, her Modiglianis. I have to admit, I was incredibly impressed.

"You see, dear, you see marriage as something permanent," she said. "But it isn't. It's a business."

I wasn't against what she was saying, nor did I disagree. I had studied love and romance and marriage and Eleanor of Aquitane. I knew that marrying for love was a very new phenomenon. I knew that more marriages ended up as business deals far more than was even intended.

But I wasn't interested in marriage as a business. I wasn't interested in using my looks, fading or not, (by the way: they were not fading, not by half! If I take after the women on my mother's side of the family, and I believe I do, I haven't even started! They were ALL downright GORGEOUS in their 40s and 50s!) as currency, as bait.

I had already learned from my previous relationship- and not by intention but by accident- marry for money, you earn every penny. I had learned that in EVERY marriage- you earn every penny. So in my mind, I already knew I was going to take care of myself, with or without a partner. I was already done with the illusion that a MAN was going to come save me from my life. That just wasn't what I wanted. Ironically, what I wanted was a CAREER to come save me from my life, and at this moment, I have a man AND a career that are intertwined, but no one needs saving and no one is a victim and no one is a savior.

You know, whoever you are, however your life works out, that's your life. I think it's great as long as it works for you, or even if it doesn't. It's not for me to say what should be the case for everyone. I'm not steeped in dogma (I think.) I'm just reflecting on what has happened in my life and what I would like and what works for me.

So, meanwhile, the cute attorney? He was really interested. Me, too. We spent the night talking about art, about music, about literature. He was so my kinda guy. Neither of us drank much, but then we DID go skinny dipping in the laguna pool. This was making poor Tiger fume. And I don't blame him. He was watching me go for a younger man, potentially a more successful man. Tiger should have been going for my goddess hostess trying to teach me how to marry. That was only a 5-10 year age difference. But her boyfriend came over after work- her 24 year old bartending boyfriend. Ah.

Finally, Tiger had had enough. As I was putting my clothes back on (it was a whole gang of skinny dippers, not just me and the lawyer boy! It was me, lawyer boy, a hair stylist, his boyfriend, and another girl.) he informed me that "we needed to talk" and he used that TONE very LOUDLY in front of EVERYONE to let them all know that ERIN WOULD BE UNAVAILABLE FOR LATE NIGHT TACOS or CHICKEN AND WAFFLES or WHATEVER THEY WERE PLANNING ON DOING.

We walked into the kitchen. I followed him like a high school kid in trouble with her Dad. Yeah. It was weird.

Then he turned around and stuck his tongue in my mouth. Just like that. It was like a middle school dance kiss. Only with the taste of cigarettes. Which made everything even weirder.

Then he asked when I would make time for "us." I apologized. He said he had called the car and it was waiting and he would take me home. We were silent on the ride home, but as he dropped me off he said, "I'll call you tomorrow, okay kiddo?"

He did call the next day and asked about us. Would I like to take his Porsche up to wine country?

I did potentially a really dumb thing. I told him that I wasn't romantically interested or attracted to him. I told him I had honestly thought he was interested in my career as a singer and was trying to help me, and that I liked him "as a friend" (again, how high school) but that was it.

He was very honest with me. He told me I needed the right song, the right music, the right hair, the right look, the right fans, the right team. And he wished me luck.

A couple years later I consulted with him about my album, poet's lovely daughter. He told me the album was indie and cool, but had nothing to do with me as a singer. He told me I should focus on being more like Celine Dion. He was right. I didn't listen, but he was right.

A couple years after that, I heard from the friend he had been with the night we all met. That friend told me that Tiger had gotten married and was very happy.

I was very happy for him.

I never saw the attorney again. Or if I have, I never recognized him...

Strangely, my partner has a law degree... Could it be? No.... Really?

Haha just kidding. My guy is Italian. This guy was definitely not that. But I hope he's happy!

Thursday, August 27, 2015

AUGUST, LA COUNTY: The Struggles of an Artist, Part Two

I remember the first time I consciously encountered someone with an ulterior motive as an artist. I mean, of course, my first voice and piano teachers were partially motivated by money. But that's not a negative ulterior motive, that's a fair exchange of energy. No, the incident I want to write about was the first time that I experienced someone abusing the situation we were in- at least that's what I think it was- for their own anger/ revenge/ ulterior motive. It wasn't the first time a *guy* took advantage of the situation, or tried. That would happen not much later, and then repeatedly. It was the first time I had an experience so outlandish and- out and out just not right- that taught me a bit about entertainment, art, and competition.

So, I'm not one to say competition is bad. I think it's very positive. It makes us become SO much better. I had a constant unspoken competition in high school with a few friends and I personally feel that although we parted as frenemies, we all were better for it- better students, better musicians, etc.

But in this instance, I learned a lot about how people don't always behave according to standards of integrity.

So, I was in high school, and I was, maybe not THE star singer of the school, because there were a lot of incredible singers in my school, but definitely one of the better singers and DEFINITELY one of the most driven to succeed.

In addition to studying voice with the choir director and singing in every musical and choral opportunity possible and even creating my own independent study in which I was directing a girls' choir, I also studied private piano lessons and voice lessons with professors from a nearby university. I was singing in contests unrelated to school and winning awards at them. I remember winning a Schubert competition, and I recall how surprised people were to hear a BIG voice come out of what was then a LITTLE body. I won, and/or placed, in several competitions connected to school, and was being offered a few scholarships already to a few different colleges (including NYU.)

I am not telling you all of this so much to prove anything other than the fact that there was proof I was a good singer. I mean, yes, I was young, 17, and had this huge, unwieldy voice that needed training. I was kind, but also full of false humility, because I didn't know how to be great and not egotistical at the same time but I knew that it was very unattractive to have a big ego, so I was learning to tame myself and still pursue my dreams.

I later learned to squash myself and not pursue my dreams, and then learned humility and THEN learned to pursue mastery and dreams and art without any of these sorts of qualifications of ego, envy, good or bad. But this is part of the path of an artist as well as part of the path of becoming an adult.

So, there was an upcoming competition, and each school could submit only a certain number of singers. I was one of the singers to be sent. There were other singers with beautiful voices that were not selected. Was I better than those singers? Maybe. It's so long ago I can't say. Was I a favorite? Definitely. The choir director and I had a special relationship. He believed in my talent, and basically, I was never an asshole to him (unlike most high school kids.) Did I deserve to be at the competition? I believe so, and at any rate, whether or not I deserved it, or no matter what was fair or unfair, I was going.

I have always been one of a big range, of vocal power, of rich tone. So, while my range was that of a soprano, (and my personality! ha! Total diva, admittedly!) I was often singing a lot of mezzo pieces because, well, I could! These days I think of myself really as a spinto, almost a dramatic soprano, because as my voice has matured it really sits in that sort of dramatic Puccini placement for sopranos, and casting wise, if casting matters too terribly much in opera, those are my roles. As a Broadway gal I'm a legit to mix-belt girl, think Kristen Chenowith, but I have a low range as well. I get compared a lot to Linda Ronstadt when I sing pop, country or big ol' ballads. So that gives you an idea of the sound of my voice if you've never heard me, not to mention my facial structure and appearance and general casting. ;)

I went to this competition and I believe I sang one of two songs:

"Le Violette," with which I won a lot of competitions- straight outta ye olde Book of Italian art Songs, a favorite among new students,


"Voi Che Sapete," the Mozart aria for a mezzo, a pants role- one in which "she" plays a he.

I just started singing the latter, and I still love the way it bursts from the blossom of my lips, the way the tone rounds in the top of my mouth. I still study and work with a teacher endlessly on tone, production, and Italian; it has been a long time since I've had the wonderings of the character ("excuse me ladies, how do I get laid, and would you be someone who would be able to physically assist me with that right NOW?") but I will always love that song and enter into the fizzy, light headed joy of the aria every time I sing it.

The judge for my particular portion of the contest was a professor at one of the local universities. In fact, she was a good friend of *my* voice teacher, although she did not know that and I did not tell her so. The first round of the competition involved singing alone just for the individual judge, although my accompanist was with me, one of my best friends.

After I sang for this lady, she said,

"I can't believe you are here in this competition."

Ego: Smacked.

"Oh?" I asked.

"You just don't have a voice," she said.

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Note: since then, I have actually had about half a dozen people tell me I have a terrible voice or I can't sing. I don't listen and I don't care. People don't need to love me or my voice! I don't need the whole world to love me and its an impossibility anyway. I sing for the love of it, and for the people who want to hear it. But...

I was a high school kid.

An imperfect one? yes.

But talented? yes!

"You don't have a good voice, you will never make it into any college as a singer, you will never do anything with this voice, and I don't know why you are here."

"Oh, okay," I said. I gathered up my things. "Thank you," I said as I was leaving. I'm from Minnesota, after all. We have good manners.

My friend and I were in silence as we walked back to the cafeteria to meet up with all the other musicians. We were both stunned. She went on to accompany someone else, but I don't remember what I did.

Later, when I didn't place, my choir director sought me out.

"What happened?" he asked.

I told him what the woman had told to me and he was very upset. He confided in me that one of her personal, private voice students was one of the girls from my school who hadn't made the cut and she was probably doing this to take revenge on him. He even filed a complaint.

I told my private voice teacher this, and Teri couldn't believe her ears. She just could not believe it. She couldn't believe that (this woman) had said such things, but

I had proof. I had had a friend in the room.

A few years later, fresh out of rehab, I started getting back into voice lessons while living with my parents. Guess who was my voice teacher?

The judge who told me I would go nowhere.

In a strange twist of fate, I was placed with her as my teacher, and she actually freed my voice a lot during a time when I was filled with shame.

Did she remember what had happened between us?

I have no idea. We never talked about it.

Did I just sing really badly that day? I don't think so. When she was my teacher, she was encouraging me to call up all the music schools I had turned down because of my eating disorder and rehabs. She was trying to get me to move to New York and make a real go of it.

So what did I learn?

Even the best of us are not always to be trusted.

People don't always operate from the best of intentions, let alone YOUR best interests.

People are worth forgiving.

And I am really good at making friends with the enemy.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

AUGUST, LA COUNTY: The Struggles of an Artist, Part One

Good day, everyone!

It's August 26th, 2015. I've got August on my mind because, of course, it's the end of August, but also because just today I was talking about the August Strindberg play "Miss Julie," a role I would love to play and am very right for, and lately have been thinking about great characters and theater, and also, because I am writing this blog and was just going to title it with today's date but then thought of another great play, "August: Osage County," and thought since I want to write a bit today about my life specifically in Hollywood and some of the trials and pitfalls of late, it would be a clever title.

But the I thought I would explain if because sometimes I know I can be a bit obtuse and it's all relative, isn't it. One person's eye roll is another person's eye opener and it's all beautiful and all just right.

Anyway, long ago, by which I mean about a year ago, a financial life coach was advising that in my blog I should share some of my struggles as a singer/ actress/ writer. She thought that it would help potential fans and coworkers to see the real day to day struggle of life as an artist.

At the time, I rebuffed the suggestion, because I wanted to remain positive. I wanted to present and project a successful artist who wrote sensitive blogs and essays about peace and compassion. I also didn't want to rock any boats or out any people in my life because you know, it's a small town, and word gets around, and I don't want to burn bridges and stuff.

But lately, I've been thinking about what she said, and thought, well, geez. I'm blogging my one woman shows, I'm gonna be blogging chapters of my novels. I am going to also blog about my struggles and what I am going through as an aspiring and working singer/ songwriter/ screenwriter/ novelist/ actress.

I mean, that right there, that I do so many things and it really puts people (some people) off, is enough. But I aim toward honesty and mastery in all my arts- I already have love and passion for them!

I mean, I don't want to get into some of the mundane things- like- I recently did new headshots and saw that my body is carrying weight differently now in my 30s. Oh my god! Truly, I cannot believe how womanly I am. And it's not a BAD thing per se, because I think I get better looking with each passing year- my mother was the same- she blossomed in her 40s and was at the PEAK of her beauty circa age 50, garnering comparisons to Sela Ward. I feel I will be the same. But it still is a shock to look at your body, your stomach, and say, that is not the body of a 21 year old. That is a va va voom, Marilyn Monroe, womanly body. Of COURSE Marilyn, who died at age 36, had a womanly body from the time she was like, 16, but I feel I am living in a day and age where *I* personally feel pressure to be extra youthful. I mean, this may sound weird, but thank God for Kim Kardashian and her Venus of Willendorf curves, and let's embrace ALL bodies and all that. But really, I think the shock is that, well, I am on year older than my last headshots and while I mostly love myself and how I look and who I am and what I'm doing, well, I DO wish I were a little more successful and I am feeling a bit of pressure about age.


But that's not what I really wanted to write about. That's me chickening out on some things that have been happening that I want to write about with kindness, but awareness, about life in Hollywood on a personal level.

So, in June, I did a one woman show (Not "The One," which I recently blogged here, but a NEW one called "StandUpera," about my life as a singer and the trials and tribulations. I WILL be blogging that one here later, as well after I add some scenes from later performances of "The One," and, my novel based on my play, "My Life as a Phone Psychic.")

Here's the amazing poster from the show, designed by Portland, Oregon based graphic designer, David Sparks, with a photo by Gracie Rae, inspired by my friend Cathy Carlson:

I did the show, as you can see, as part of the 2015 Hollywood Fringe Theater Festival. It was a multimedia show directed by my friend Nell Teare, featuring standup, story and song. I sang a few songs as part of the show, although we added and subtracted a few as the show really got its legs. Anyway, as I will be putting up video later of the show and its grand finale, I don't want to ruin too much of the surprise by writing HERE all the songs I sang... so, just know that, in general, I feel the show was a success in terms of the reviews I got (all positive except for a few people who were offended by my voice or by my thrashing of the conventions of opera, so I count those as positive, actually, because if you're not pissing SOMEONE off as a comic, well... maybe you're not doing it right? I dunno. Depends on the kind of comedy) and the audience reaction and even moreso, requests to do it again as a proper theatrical run or as a TED Talk.

One of the things that happened during the show was that I met a potential manager.

Now, let me preface things a little bit by saying that, as a singer, and an actress, and a writer, I feel that every year I keep improving and getting better. I am dedicated to being a master, whatever that means. I am better now than I ever have been in all my time as a professional (or amateur) singer, songwriter, performer, actress, writer. I continue studying with master teachers because I believe there is always room to grow. As the years go by, I become more and more commercial in my approach (believe it or not) because I realize I LOVE that stuff and, well, sound the BEST singing/ performing/ writing it. Like, I am MADE for musicals, and country music, and big ballad love songs a la Celine Dion. I am MADE for that emotionally, vocally, and in regards to my physical appearance.

Intellectually, I mean, of course I still love some of the more obscure and artsy fartsy and weird stuff, but even then, having inundated my artistic experience with that stuff in my teens and 20s, I actually am having a Renaissance as a fan/ listener with things I personally have never had time for before- please don't laugh- okay laugh- things like: Disney movies. Stephen King. Soccer.


ALL of that is to say... What I think I need, really, is a break. Like, the big one. Like, my big break. Like, my shot at American Idol (which I am now too old for.) Like, meeting David Foster. Like, doing vocals for a Disney Princess movie.

(I will now insert the spoof of "A Whole New World" from Aladdin that I did for some of my dear Burning Man/ Fire Dancing friends: "A Whole New Burn."

Listen here- turn the volume up, probably, on your computer:

The male voice is Franck Bensoussan, and the whole production was recorded by Andres Uribe Lopez of the Analog Vibe Studio.)

And at one of the performances of "StandUpera," in the audience, there was someone who, later, I would come to hope might be a link to that big break.

I feel worried to write about it here, because in no way do I want to be too exposing of this person, or encourage this person to be angrier or weirder than they are.

I am writing about it here because this has happened to me SO MANY TIMES in my life as a performer that I want to deconstruct WHY.

Why do I attract the people who project on to me their own delusions? As I write the blog, I will talk about other times it has happened. I mean, it is part of the territory of art and Hollywood in particular, to attract people who tell you one thing but really have entirely different stories running through their heads. And I want to share how I overcame my own delusions. SO many times I have had entire relationships and stories in my HEAD that had nothing to do with reality, and thanks to a life coach, an acting coach, and a few trips to India, I have grown in an awareness of those things.

So, I am giving away the ending a little bit here. At least I HOPE it's the ending! But let's go back to the beginning...

Picture it... there I was... the opening night of "StandUpera..."

to be continued....

Thursday, August 20, 2015

INTERLUDE: The Beekeeper, Tori Amos, ten years later

Today is August 20th, 2015.

I am in the middle of writing a novel, a screenplay, planning a three song EP, and auditioning for a ton of stuff. I live in Los Angeles with my man from Italy and my dog from the streets of LA (born after his mother was rescued from a dumpster.) I'm at the height of my life so far, and here's to hoping it gets better. My friends are psychics, artists, musicians, warriors, healers, writers, poets, photographers, directors, wonderfully complicated and crazy. I am- I can't say happy because it isn't like that. I am everything. I feel everything. I think everything and nothing, usually at the same time. I experience as much as I am aware. I am just beginning to be my true self... I think. Will the real Erin please stand up?

I recently had a session with a incredible psychic, Jungian analyst, astrologer, divine feminine mystic and shoe maker! I wasn't surprised when, after our brilliant session, I read that she was also a guide to Tori Amos, a woman I have always loved and listened to. I love music that has melody and beautiful voicing and pain as well as joy and so her music really resonates with me. Of course, so does Celine Dion! Hipster friends, please don't judge... and... also... conservative friends? Try not to as well. ha!

Anyway. So, right now, one of my practices is trying to remember how to have fun. DON'T LAUGH! You know, serious musicians and comedians and workaholics and poets and mystics and healers- and I am all of those things- we have a hard time relaxing. We have a hard time having fun. So I am asking the best person I can think of to guide me toward what I ACTUALLY like and enjoy and think is fun: me, little Erin, from ages, oh, say, 4 or 5 to 6, 7, 8. And the answers are surprising!

She loves yogurt parfaits and doesn't really like chocolate. ! She loves Anne of Green Gables (duh!) and doesn't love The Knick! (Although the adult me is intellectually intrigued although not emotionally drawn in.) She loves dresses and hates shorts (same as the adult me) and wants to listen to the soundtrack to French Kiss and anything by Tori Amos in the 2000s but not the 90s. She wants to return to being a vegetarian. She doesn't actually like meat, nor do I, really, just as an adult I'm rebelling against my old eating disorder and thought that would be part of it. Okay! I'm just going with it.

So, here I am, on my walk this morning, of course in the middle of a million things because I'm about to go rehearse with a potential pianist for my recording, and then have a fun audition. And I'm listening to tracks from "The Beekeeper:" "Goodbye to Pisces," "The Power of Orange Knickers," "Sleeps with Butterflies."

And I am suddenly in 2005, when the album came out with a book that accompanied it, and I was in Germany with the infamous FtG, and things were not going well and I was being gaslighted and manipulated and left in a forest in the middle of nowhere and then physically threatened in a castle just outside Dresden with physical violence if I didn't shape up. And it was dramatic and awful and he wasn't who I thought I was- and NEITHER WAS I. And I'm journaling a lot at this time, listening to Tori, and reading the book, and thinking about my unrecorded albums, my unsung songs, my novels yet to be written. And I'm riding on a train to Berlin, and the country side is going by and I'm connected not to Berlin or the man or the endless bottles of wine or miserable dinners. And I'm being promised things I don't care about- a penthouse in Dusseldorf. A Porsche. The time to write (which by the way, was not really on the table.) If only I would quit singing and quit, well, everything and just get pregnant and- you know- with that guy- it was never good enough. You know that old saying, he asks me to jump and I say how high? It wasn't enough to say how high, I was supposed to just KNOW how high to jump and IF I jumped EXACTLY to that height, he would change his desire so I would be wrong again.

Of course it never starts out that way. It starts out with jazz and poetry and art, with quotations and slow dancing.

SO today, 2015, I'm listening to this Tori Amos album I haven't visited in a long time, and I'm thinking,

Oh My God. I made it. I fucking made it. No. I really, really did. I mean, of course I'm not famous or successful as a working actor or a known author of beloved magical realism novels- yet. ;-p I may be that still or I may never be. But you know what I do have? My SELF.

My self.

My life. My love of life.

I can listen to Tori Amos and Celine Dion and Sarah Brightman and Uptown Funk and Strauss lieder all in one walk and it's all gorgeous. I can ask my 5 year old self what we really want for breakfast and have it. I can laugh off all the stupid shit I do and have done and know that a Princess Bride quote can be as profound as Goethe: "Life IS pain, Highness. Anyone that says differently is selling something."

And life IS pain and yet-

it is still a  beautiful world, right?

I mean, that's where I get caught up. Because I want to love this world and then I think of war and violence and meanness and unfairness and how dirty and concrete Los Angeles is and how selfish humans seem to be,

and I'm reading Under Tiberius (by Nick Tosches, what an incredible writer)and the whole idea that Jesus was actually a manufactured entertainment a la a modern day boy band is incredibly comforting,

and then I think of my audition today, and my favorite fairy tale, and how beautiful music is and how sweet my man today is (as well as incredible handsome and badass) and how tenderly my dog loves me, and I think,

yeah, it is a beautiful world. It certainly can be.

As you wish.

And now it's time to say Goodbye to Pisces. I gotta a rehearsal to make.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Girl sees glimpse of eternity, writes poem

A white moon in the blue sky,
awakened by coyotes,
and a sudden rustle of the aspens.
Sleep severs our love affair
without warning and, worse, indefinitely.

Cool air. The sort my people label "brisk."

Down by the barn where an archaic
thresher lies useless, relegated to antique
decoration, Two crows chastise me:

"City girl, caw, caw. This is the country."

 I tune them out and play a podcast about
spiritual enlightenment,
A talk by Ram Dass,
reminding us that security and god may
not go hand in hand.

My mind opens,
but only for a moment,
and then I must stop everything
to write a poem.


Monday, August 3, 2015

Visit my Music Pages, Text of my One Woman Shows and Books coming soon

Hey guys! I wanted to just link you over to my music pages :

There ya go!

I'm going to be blogging sections and chapters of all my one woman shows and books over the next few weeks. My goal is to give you TONS of great reading material and links to the videos and songs that might go along side the reading material.

I'll be sharing:

THE ONE (The Original One Woman Show)

ADDITIONAL STORIES OF THE ONE (pieces I added or changed for subsequent performances)

THE ONE Self Help (A self help book for romance and unrequited love addicts I wrote based on deconstructing my own love life after doing the aforementioned one woman show)

MY LIFE AS A PHONE PSYCHIC (A novel I wrote in 2010 based on a play I wrote in 2004, long before I ever was one.)

STANDUPERA! (My Life as a Singer, with songs and comedy)

AND THAT will take us up to my next novel in progress.

I know a lot of you are curious about my performing life as opposed to my writing life.

That's why I wanted to share the links above, because that's where most of my performing info is located and posted.

Tata for now
So Much Love!