Blood from Joe Amero is an unbelievable true story about life, blood, death and family.
Premiering November 14th & 21st, 2019 at The Bad Dog Theatre Company/
Directed by Dana Puddicombe
with Kate Fenton
Sunday, September 29, 2019
09/16/2019 - 09/29/2019
The last time I went to New Orleans was 5 years ago, with my Wife on our Honeymoon.
When we were there we discovered that Nicholas Cage had bought the famous Lalaurie Mansion, once owned by the notorious socialite Delphine Lalaurie who also happened to be a serial killer who tortured slaves in her attic while entertaining guests downstairs. We thought that was a strange choice in real estate to invest in.
Later, we went on a tour of the infamous St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 to visit the grave of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau.
While we were there we came across an enormous bright white pyramid that took up more space than 10 other families tombs. I asked the tour guide what the deal was and he told me that Nicholas Cage had purchased it and put it there for himself. Then the guide laughed about how it was the last piece of property Cage owned after going bankrupt.
I thought it was disgusting, so I took a photo of myself giving it the finger and posted on Face Book about what a tool Nick Cage was.
A moment later, my friend Claire, who was at work on at a toy store on the Danforth back in Toronto, sent me a photo of her, in that very same moment, standing with none other than
Nicolas Fucking Cage!
We just got back from our 2nd honeymoon in New Orleans celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary.
While we were there this time we went into a bar called The Abbey.
We were in the Abbey 5 years ago and took a polaroid selfie, signed it and stuck it up on the wall.
We looked around (this time) and sure enough, there in the corner of a picture frame was our own, newly married faces smiling back at us!
The world is a small place.
Be cool & be careful what you do here;
good or bad, it will come back to you.
On Monday I had the day off work and went to Bad Dog Theatre to meet with Dana Puddicombe and Kate Fenton for the first 'Blood' rehearsal!
On Tuesday I went to work and walked 25,619 steps (16.5 kms). Then My Sister Maggie met me after work and we drove to my house, where she would be watching my kids while I went on vacation.
On Wednesday my Wife Kenny and I flew to New Orleans for our 5th Wedding Anniversary & second honeymoon! We had a stop over at the Atlanta airport and they had a bar that you could smoke in! We went to Port of Call on the Esplande as soon as we got there and got Monsoons to go that we got drunk off of TWICE! We booked our tattoo appointments with Cameron T Sweet, the same artist that did our honeymoon tattoos 5 YEARS ago! Then we had NOLA Poboys for dinner!
Kenny lost her phone in Toronto.
On Thursday we had chicory Cafe Au Laits & Beignets at Cafe Du Monde! We walked along the Mississippi River and all through the French Quarter.
A woman contacted me to tell me she found Kenny's phone & we made plans to pick it up when we got back!
On Friday we went on a street car ride through the Garden District and walked down Magazine Street. We went to an Absinthe Bar and later we ate the biggest pizza I've ever seen in my life!
(we gave a couple slices away to some bums and some hotel staff)
On Saturday we smoked some cigars and went to the Contemporary Arts Center and had lunch at Auction House Market. We had dinner at Cafe Amelie, it was Bill Murray's birthday, we were hoping to run into him somewhere, we did not.
I went swimming for the first time in years!
On Sunday we went to the Music Box Village and had our Anniversary dinner at an amazing restaurant called Gris-Gris!
It was PERFECT!
On Monday we had Muffuletta sandwiches from Central Grocery (where they were invented)!
We saw a dead body on Canal street.
At night we went to a club on Frenchman street called Maison to see The Society of Sin do a burlesque show!
On Tuesday I had corned beef hash for breakfast and Bloody Mary(s).
I got to announce online that I'll be performing in Bad Dog's 24 Hour Improv Marathon, and to my Wife that it will be on her birthday.
We got our 2nd honeymoon tattoos! I got a mosquito & Kenny got a shrimp.
I had an alligator hot dog for dinner!
We went back to Music Box Village and watched Dario Argento's Suspiria as Goblin performed the original soundtrack LIVE!
On Wednesday we had to come home.
We LOVED Hotel St. Pierre.
3pm-5pm is fresh baked cookies and cold milk;
Kenny's Dad picked us up at the airport, we got to see the girls before bedtime and then we hung out with Maggie!
On Thursday we hung out with our girls and went for lunch at our friends Erica & Jamie's new restaurant Electric Diner, then I went to Bad Dog and played in Triptych with The Featured Players.
On Friday I watched the girls while Kenny worked at Octoberfest.
When they went to bed I finished the FINAL draft for 'Blood'!
On Saturday I watched the girls while Kenny worked at Octoberfest.
On Sunday I went to work...
(*I'm not exactly sure these things happened in this exact order, but they all happened and then some! Including several things I can't mention here except for 100 Miller High Life's and about 10 bags of Zapp's VOODOO chips!)
People like to make fun of people with neck tattoos.Mostly it’s just dorky, straight white, middle to upper-middle class white people that fire the shots.What do they know?They think they’re right; they’re wrong.
I like cashing big fat checks and depositing thick rolls of cash money at the bank with tattoos on my face and on my everything else.I enjoy driving vehicles off of lots and closing on properties with ‘PUNX’ tattooed on my knuckles.I get a great charge out of enjoying every last bit of my comprehensive benefits package at Osteopaths and acupuncture sessions and I always have a relaxed chuckle to myself after a nice long professional massage.The reason I get such a kick out of it is because people take 1 look at me and assume that I’m a “scumbag” or a “piece of shit”.
I am not.
NOTHING I’ve ever done in my life would warrant those titles, least of all my tattoos.
I’m guilty by preconception.
I’m used to it because I’ve dealt with it my whole life.Self inflicted? Maybe, but no more than I’m a product of my environment as much as every single other person in the world. The SAME.I made my choices in life but they were, exactly that, MY choices.I don’t judge the dorky whites for CHOOSING to live their buttoned down, vanilla sex (or lack there of) self righteous lives because ITS NONE OF MY BUSINESS.
I teach my kids that we have 2 ears and 1 mouth because we’re supposed to listen twice as much we speak.Most times, if you’re listening closely, you’ll find there’s no need to speak at all and that’s why we’re able to keep our mouths shut while our ears stay open.That’s why our heads turn to look away and we have 2 feet to leave.
I don’t entertain these people and they sure don’t entertain me.
I know where I came from and what I did to get where I am today.
(Good luck coming through that without a mark on ya!)
My text tattoo (if I can find the space) May be of a guy robbing a liquor store (a la Colin Quin’s Lenny the Lion -SNL circa 1997) because fuck you.
I gave myself my first tattoo when I was 13.I straightened the pin on the back of a Sex Pistols badge, dipped it in india ink, sat on my bed and went to town.I cleaned the blood and ink with my 'The Simpsons' T-shirt and wore it to school the next day.A friend of mine asked me what the mess on my shirt was and I pulled up my sleeve to reveal my brand new anarchy circle A!(Long since regrettably covered up with more tattoos)
She asked if I did this to myself and when I told her I did she said I was insane.
My brother Harold got Hot Wheels’ Fire strips tattooed up both sides of his penis.You might think that’s insane too, but he got more action because of those tattoos than I can tell you about here.Maybe that’s not your thing either; to each their own.After Harold died, our best friend Paul and I got matching tribute tattoos in memoriam. We mixed some of his cremated ashes in with the ink.
People will always think they’re better than you in life; they are not.
You’re only competition is yourself.
Never give up until your good is better and your better is best. My Papa used to tell me that.He also used to tell me to go to the store and get him a box of biscuits, a box of mixed biscuits and a biscuit mixer. Now THAT is insane.
Subvert normality and fuck the system.
(they'll do the same to you)
Then I went and did an ADR session for a short film we did last November called
On Tuesday I met with Onan & discussed some work for BLOOD as well as plans for a new
twitchy tantrum album!
On Wednesday my apple music expired and I had to listen to the radio on the drive to AND from work. I opted for classical, it always helps me relax and feel completely psychotic at the same time.
Daniel Johnston died.
On Thursday I switched shifts for my 3pm-11pm with my buddy John at work so I could do 7am-3pm and play in Triptych at Bad Dog at 8;
On Friday I went back to the Osteopath and it was GREAT!
(She even cupped my legs this time!)
On Saturday I finally got to spend some time with my girls in the morning before work while my Wife got her nails did!
I travelled all over the U.S. when I was young.When I say “travelled” what I mean is I hitchhiked and hopped freight trains and “travelled” from town to town and state to state.That’s not to say I never found myself in fancy hotels with thick grips of cash, it just means I did it “on the bum”.
After parting ways with my trusty travelling companion (Starly The Periodically Righteous) I found myself alone in Tucson Arizona.I made a bunch of money panhandling downtown and hooked up with a group of fellow “travellers” on the way to the liquor store.I was drinking quite heavily at the time so I desperately needed to fill my prescription and ensure I had medicine enough for the following morning.After some conversation, these kids were kind enough to invite me to stay at their bridge where there was room enough to have their own apartment between pillars.They seemed friendly enough and I figured I could use the company, so I hopped in their pick-up truck and off we went.The evening started out with one of them spilling my whiskey on accident.No harm, no foul - we just strained the gravel out of that discount American whiskey through the top of a dirty sock.As the hour grew late I remember thinking about how I didn’t like these people.I quietly chose the moment to make my exit and retire to my apartment.I had planned to get up early and make tracks, these were not my people (racist, sexist, homophobic etc.).
I woke up before the sun, got right up, had a big stretch, went for my water bottle to wash the taste of poverty out of my mouth and discovered I had been robbed!My duffle bag had been rifled through and I had been, as they say,
“ripped -the fuck- off”!
All I had was dirty clothes and some bread and peanut butter but the bastards stole my harmonica. (As well as a sizeable purse of earnings)
I was pissed!
I packed up my things and slid down the concrete hill to the landing to get some answers.
When I got to the bottom I discovered police arresting one of these douche bags, who had apparently knocked his girlfriend’s teeth out.There were police and paramedics and lights and bullshit.
I just walked across the field to the highway to hitchhike the hell away from there as quickly as possible.
As soon as I climbed out of the ditch and hit the shoulder of the highway, I stuck out my thumb and the first car that passed me screamed something at me and threw garbage at me out of their window as they passed.
People kept honking and screaming and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
A state trooper pulled over on his motor cycle and lit me up.He got off of his bike and immediately unlatched his side arm as he began to slowly walk towards me.
As he approached he yelled
“Why are you so green?!”
I didn’t understand the question.
He got even closer and demanded an answer:
“Why in the hell are you so green boy?!”
I told him I was Canadian but I knew my way around and I’d hitchhiked plenty and would be just fine.
He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me back to his bike.He stuffed my face up close to his rear view mirror and again asked:
“Why are you so green?!”
I looked at my reflection and seen that I had been painted green!
My whole face and beard were spray painted green with rust paint.
I told him about the whiskey and the douche bags and explained how I must’ve been spray painted before, during or after the robbery.
He just looked at me and shook his head.Then he grabbed me again by the scruff of the neck and drag-walked me to other side of the overpass I was standing under.
Just on the other side was a giant billboard that read:
STATE PRISON WITHIN 3 MILES.
DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS.
This explained what all the passers by were yelling about and why I couldn’t get a lift.The trooper began to write me a citation and strongly recommended that I get off the highway and get myself back to a residential area.
I asked him if I ripped up the ticket, would he take me to jail and give me food and medical attention?
(My feet needed some tending to)
He just looked at me and shook his head.He strongly repeated his suggestion to return to a residential area.I looked around and there was only one nearby housing development but it was behind a giant fence topped with razor wire.
He just nodded his head and then motioned to the fence, this guy said a lot with no words and only his head.I grabbed my bag and headed for the fence as he returned to his bike.I got to the top and threw my bag over.My pants got caught on the wire as I carefully tried to maneuver the razor wireand I cut my wrist and fell all the way down the other side.I knocked the wind out of myself and could feel it in my internal organs when he fired up his bike.
I’ll never forget the look on the two little boys playing at the end of their culdasac when they looked up and seen the green man emerge from the tall grass.I asked them if there was a store nearby and they just pointed down the street in unison with gaping jaws and wide open eyes.
I bought a Dr. Pepper and waited for a bus back downtown.
(My feet were burning bad)
I went from shelter to shelter asking about Operation Go Home (an agency that will give you a bus ticket home to be cared for if you are homeless) and each place would send me on a wild goose chase to the next until I finally found the spot (the absolute last shelter).
I walked in, or rather dragged my throbbing feet up to the counter. I asked the worker if they handled Operation Go Home to which he quickly replied;
“Yes we do, we have a deal with Greyhound, I can print your ticket right here and you can catch a bus right out front!Where are you going?”
“Thank God!Toronto Ontario Canada!”
“Ooooh, I’m sorry.We only handle America.”
“I meant Detroit Michigan (a short ride into Windsor and back into Canada)
“Do you have any ID that says you’re from Detroit?”
“I don’t have any ID at all”
“I’m really sorry then, here’s a city bus ticket and a bagged lunch, have a nice day.”
Have a nice day?
He gave me a bologna sandwich and told me to have a nice day.
I shuffled out of there, completely defeated.
I made my way back to one of the shelters I had visited earlier looking for my golden ticket.They had mentioned they would be having a turkey dinner that evening and that sounded pretty good right about now.I panhandled on my way there to replenish my medicine cabinet, by the time I hit the line I was back in business.I quietly sat and ate my meal and was greatful for it and savoured every bite.When I was done and clearing my place a couple old home bums approached me and mentioned how they couldn’t help but notice I had the blues.I told them that he blues ain’t nothin’ but a good man feel in’ down. They invited me back to their camp for a fire.I figured, what do I have to lose?I bought us all a flat of beer and we made our way down the tracks into the hobo jungle.These guys were great!
Funny jokes, interesting stories, warm and kind.I fell asleep under the stars with my faith in humanity restored.
Nope, not my people either.
I woke up with a boot on my throat and another crazy old man kneeing me in the ribs until I could feel and hear them break.As I laid there I could see two of the other old farts rifling through my duffle bag to find my change.They found it and then they all ran away in slow motion like you would imagine 4 old homeless men would running through tall grass to make their escape.
I couldn’t move, I couldn’t believe it, all I could do was laugh, but it hurt too much.I lay there a good long while looking up at the clouds making animals and objects like when we were kids.The worst part was, if they had of asked me, I would’ve given them the money, gladly.
I liked them.
I had to get out of this place, but how?I went to the library and found the maps of the highways.It’s a complicated system of overpasses as every friggin road in America goes through there spilling into California like a spider web.
I ran across multi-laned highways, hopped over on ramps, climbed up off ramps, until I eventually found my path.When I finally got to the road I needed there was a major traffic jam.I thought this was a miracle because I could just talk to people and easily catch a ride.
I was wrong.
I walked all day through the desert.
My feet were so bad they started to bleed.They bled so bad that the blood was leaking out and over the tops of my boots.
The traffic jam let upand cars started moving but this didn’t change anything for me.I walked all evening until the sun started to set in the distant west.I couldn’t go any further, I had to rest.It gets cold in the desert at night so the only warmth was on the other side of the guard rail on the foot if ash flatbefore it’s just bare desert.
All these bums rob me but none of them wanted my bread and peanut butter?!I tried to eat some but was so thirsty that I couldn’t swallow it, I would’ve laughed but...
I woke up and started walking again through the dusk.
I was not in good shape and I was not getting any better.
I just kept telling myself that I got myself into this situation and I would get myself out of it.
Over the ridge ahead I could see a glowing light.I didn’t care if it was THE almighty pure white light at the end of my life, I was going to get to that light. I walked forever until I finally reached the top of that ridge and the source of the mysterious light revealed itself.I could hear the choirs of angels singing as the lights slowly revealed themselves to be artificial behind the glowing plastic letters that read
It was a truck stop!
I was saved!
I rushed in there like all my prayers had been answered, the security guard took one look at me painted green, with my broken ribs, cut wrist and bleeding rotten feet and he shook his head.He rushed right over to me and pushed me back out the door. He said
“If you so much as say 1 word to 1 trucker I will personally kick your ass until the cops come!”
I didn’t understand.
I begged him to please give me a marker and cardboard to at least make a sign to silently solicit a ride form one of his fine patrons. He reluctantly ripped open an empty pack of Marlboro Reds and slapped a thin pink highlighter in my hand.
I made my sign and he agreed to letme sit out front if I “kept my fucking mouth shut.”When he wasn’t looking I “stole”a half eaten bag of Fire Ball Doritos out of the garbage, they were surprisingly easier to swallow than bread and peanut butter without water.
I sat there for 2 days, under his insanely unreasonable watchful eye pointing to my tiny white cigarette package sign that read in dying pink highlighter ink, two letters;
If you’re ever lucky enough to find your people, hold on to them, TIGHT.
(After ALL of that I went to Vegas and ended up winning $5,800!
But that’s ANOTHER story😉)
(it was Labor Day)
I met with Dana and we worked like crazy on the final Blood script!
(we're now 2/3 complete!)
On Tuesday we saw Adeline off to her first day in GRADE 1!!!
Then I played in the Semi-Finals of the Fever Pitch competition with Pepperoni Pizza Cats!
(We entered the Semi-Finals tied for 2nd with Lavender Boy)
The winner of Fever Pitch gets their own show at Bad Dog Theatre!
On Wednesday I found out that the theatre booked another show in my time slot.
On Thursday I had lasagna with Mom & Mags!
I told them at work that I would NOT be driving any more.
On Friday they tried to make me drive.
(I did NOT)
On Saturday I worked, my boss/friend gave me her free parking spot while she goes on a cruise to Ala$ka!
(I didn't drive and I never will again, my end date is Oct. 23rd!)
On Sunday I stayed home...
(They changed my Regular Days Off (RDO's) from Friday & Saturday to Sunday & Monday)
One afternoon I woke up and discovered that all of the hair in my left armpit had turned into what can only be described as glass noodles. I tried to wash it off but the actual hair itself had transformed into clear, squishy noodles! In a panic, I shaved the armpit clean.
A few days later, it began to grow back.
To my horror, it was growing back as the same glass noodles I had shaved off.
It was like a freaky little play-doh fun factory in my armpit!
What the hell was wrong with me?
Was I rotting from the inside out?
Was I going to die?!
I put some tea tree oil on it and it cleared it right up.
Come to my show in November at Bad Dog Theatre Company.
On Tuesday we sold a loft bed to somebody on Kijiji for $300!
(Hey! I remembered a Tuesday!)
On Wednesday they came back for the mattress ($50!)
My Wife took the kids to Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara Falls with her Dad.
(I hate that place)
I had the house to myself and worked like hell on Draft #3 for Blood.
On Thursday I went to my first ever Osteopathy appointment...
I LOVED IT!!!
First relief I've had in MONTHS!
Then I went to my friend Ajahnis' coming out/going away party show 'Come Thru Kweens' at Bad Dog. I don't like everybody, but I love Ajahnis.
On Friday I got a new job offer =
MORE money & LESS driving!!!
On Saturday we took the kids to the Ontario Science Centre!