Candy Barr: The Small-Town Texas Runaway Who Became a Darling of the Mob and the Queen of Las Vegas Burlesque by Ted Schwarz

My review on unicornmeat.com:
I was hoping to write a story on this book for Bachelor Pad Magazine. By the end of the first chapter I realized this was too bleak for Java the Bachelor's "Booze, Babes & Burly-Q."
Candy Barr (nee Juanita Slusher)'s life was tragically full of rape, forced-prostitution and exploitation. Even her alleged relationship with gangster Mickey Cohen was, by her account, not of her own will.
At times I was confused about the whereabouts of her child. The birth of her daughter is briefly mentioned, leaving me wondering about Candy working as a dancer during her pregnancy. During later events, the presence of her daughter wouldn't seem to fit in with the events.
Most of the events in the book were told to the author by Candy Barr, which accounts for some of the confusion.
Her life in prison is the most fascinating era. During this time she wrote a (later self-published) book of poetry, leveraged the prison's desire for her to perform in the annual rodeo in exchange for a job in the prison library, and grew as a person.
The best part of the book, on the part of the author, is compellingly describing Candy/Juanita's heartfelt passion for dancing, and how her natural talent at it helped her to overcome the obstacles to join the ranks of the most famous exotic dancers of all time.
If, like me, you like reading everything you can get your hands on about the lives of exotic dancers, or you're interested eventful life stories, this is a worthwhile book. It is not a romanticized tale of stripping or "burlesque." Very little glitz, glamour and rhinestones


That review is kind of halfassed though. I have other things to add but I don't think I'll do it here because the eyes of the internet are watching.
I exchanged emails with the author. He's a character... indeed.
Candy Barr dances:

a) to get to amateur stand-up comedy night.

I don't really care that much about stand-up comedy. Like many people, I have surmised it to be the realm of losers with the exception of a gifted few.
A lot of people ask "why aren't there more funny women?", and by funny, they usually are referring to stand-up and the career path thereafter.
Last night they had an amateur stand-up night at the Ottobar. Due to the bar atmosphere, perhaps the quality was even lower than comedy clubs. However, I've been to a comedy club before, and based on the acts seen there, I do not think that what I observed last night strays too much from the formula.
It is no wonder that funny women don't want to deal with the dregs that is the lowest echelons of stand-up. Loser after misogynist loser making rape jokes, jokes about 'bitches', how women hate giving blow-jobs, and how pussies smell bad.
I'm sure women hate giving blow jobs to these gross ugly dudes. I doubt anyone would bother to bathe before hooking up with losers like these. The guys who make these jokes are never attractive, I've noticed.
Strategies for getting laid: a) be good looking, b) have money, c) be funny.
Well I guess these dudes fail at a and b. But then they fail at c too, because they're pre-occupied with impressing their guy-friends with their pathetic attempts to be crass and macho.
I guess there's not much else to say other than that the status quo that prevents the 50% of wanna-be comedians who don't resort to that lame crap from calling out the 50% who do on their bullshit will serve to maintain stand-up comedy as the realm of pathetic losers until the end of time.
What a lame scene.

I'm in a play, if youre around Baltimore come see it


Brad and Boson are also in it

I'm eating pretzels but what I really want is peanut butter cups.
Trying to break a candy-addiction cycle. A few days ago I actually was buying chocolate and the vending machine gave me a free bag of pretzels. It's been giving me free snacks lately. So I set aside these pretzels and now I'm bitterly eating them in lieu of going down and getting some delicious (albeit melty) peanut butter cups.
When I opened this bag of rold gold pretzels I swear I looked in and saw a bottomless supply of stupid pretzels somehow fit into this little snack bag. Indeed as I eat them their numbers never seem to deplete. I've never been a pretzel gal, except for occasional hangover cravings. Overall they just get in the way. They're like the lame guy in the party mix. I actually try to eat them all first to get it over with.
They're drying out my mouth and I only have one seltzer water which I'm saving for a special moment between now and 5. I need to make it to 5 and not eat candy. I'm sitting here with the uncomfortable company of these pretzels, my boyfriends chinese leftovers, and the sandwich I didn't eat yesterday.

and it sucks. I think it's really frustrating that everything I want/need to do conflicts or overlaps.


anyway if anyone wants to go drive to a farm in PA and pick berries with me on saturday afternoon let me know.


I hope to find time to make some pies

some cool letters from the past year's "mailbag" to my blog

The first one amazed me because it was in response to a post I made last night!

I'm tompall's cousin and we grew up together in the Nebraska sandhills cattle country.
Actually, Harlan Howard is a co-writer on Baltimore. The legend is that TP had written a dozen verses, then appeared in Harlan's office one day, tossed it on his desk, and said, "Here, fix this." And Harlan did. He was the No. 1 writer in Nashville during that pivital time in Nashville when country music changed from studio-controlled slush to honest, individual expression.
I was told that the lyrics were used in a college textbook as an example of story-telling songs. But I do not have first-hand knowledge.

---
"Little Rachel", Rachel Veach is my Grandmother. She started out in the late 30's with Roy Acuff after being introduced by Sam McGhee. She was quite a "gem". She was a wonderful Grandmother, had a great personality and sense of humor and probably was quite a force to be reckoned with in her day. She could play the strings off of a banjo and belt out those lyrics. She and Oswald were not related. That was made up because of her traveling with the "boys". That was not a proper thing to do back in those days. "Little Rachel" was about 5 feet tall with beautiful blue eyes and raging red hair. A little spit fire you might say. She had to be to get out and do what she did all those years ago. She was one of the first women to ever tour. She was a songwriter, musician and a Mother of four girls, Mildred, Jean, Bettye and Sharon. I am so proud of her and her accomplishments. I hope that some day, even though she has passed, that she will receive some sort of recognition for the trail she has blazed.
Shannon

---

I'm Little Rachel grandson, Mildred's son. Mom was named after Roy's wife, Mildred Acuff. Granny was an insperation on my life in more ways than one. I've got her sense of humor and have picked up her music talent. I haven't learnd to play the Banjo yet, but I do play the guitar. When she was sick with cancer she showed me a few guitar cords to pass the torch. I've missed her ever since she passed away. I miss her Sunday cooking, I miss going out to the country and having her sing to us. Those few chords she started me out with helped me get a job building guitars with Gibson USA. I sure hope I've made her proud.
Dave
---

Hello -
I was searching for the lyrics to the song Blue Ridge and happened
on your interesting webpage.
I have had the good fortune to be able hire the great Chicago
country singer Robbie Fulks to play at my upcoming wedding which is
being held at Afton Mountain in Virginia . My daughter is going to
sing Blue Ridge as a duet with Robbie. Pretty cool if I do say so
myself.
The lyrics wouldn't be difficult to right down while listening but I
decided to just look them up on the web for convenience sake. I but
damned if I can't find them anywhere, which seems strange. Indeed I
couldn't see where they were posted on your webpage.
Anyway I just thought I'd drop you a note and tell you that story
and say howdy.
So....
Howdy!

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I found a blog you did back in 2006 about Burlesque songs and i was wondering if you could help me find a song prformed by Barbra Stanwyck in "Ladies of Burlesque" called Take it Off the E String Put it on the G String? I have a MySpace page for classic movies as well as a Blog and I want to add it to my player. So I would need it in mp3 format and the URL for the mp3 to add it to my flash fetish player. Thanks so Much. Feel free to visit my sites at ...
http://liloleme33.blogspot.com/
---

hi there- while searching for a copy of the song "take it off the e-string
play it on the g-string", i came across your blog and was very excited to
hear the mp3. i wondered though, as i would love to use the song in a
burlesque show i am working on, if there was anyway to download it, or to
have you send it to me? Maybe it's alot to ask, but i have been unable to
find it elsewhere and am desperate to use it. thanks so much, let me know.
-sarah

---

I like your writing.
And, I like your sense of humor.
Kindly email me a few photos.
Best regards

---
Unfortunately, I was not able to help these guys:
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[subject:] garfield CD
Hi Kara, do you know where i can get this cd or do you have it?
I would really like it thanks!!!!!
Garfield-Out there tonight 1977 cd
thanks
finigan

---
Hi there, I'm hoping you can help me find a song from
the 30s-40s that my Dad (who is 82) is trying to find.
He's in pretty bad shape, and I'd like to find this
for him while he can still enjoy it.
It's a song he said he heard on the radio as a boy and
he still sings sometimes. The lyrics are:
"Oh where are you going, Reynaldo?"
"I go to San Pedro"
"And what do you do in San Pedro?"
"I find my coquette and I say: Si si, si si...my
pidgeon I love you so!"
I've search the internet under: "Oh where are you
going Reynaldo/Hernando/Fernando" and nothing comes
up.
Have you any ideas? Would really appreciate any help
you can offer. My father doesn't remember the name of
the artists ensemble.
Thanks again for everything

Robin

The house I live in is getting repairs done on the porch, and got a new deck in the back.

The workers managed to crush every single plant in the yard that I care about and spent time on.

I'm depressed. Doing stuff is such a waste of time.

Have you ever overheard a couple arguing in line at the drugstore, and wondered to yourself what their lives are like, how they think, and how they live? Did you know "crazy girls" in their 20s who managed to live lives full of "drama", crying and intense phone calls? Did you wonder how they could constantly manage to become the victim of nonsensical situations?
In a way, the interest in "troubled" stars like Anna Nicole might be largely attributable to this curiosity. However, the aura of celebrity alters the believability of the insanity. It could be all an act, or all bad press. For every fucked up celebrity out there, there's hundreds of thousands of similarly afflicted dramatic and ridiculous people just living their lives in the real world.
People like Donna Hogan.

"Train Wreck" isn't really about Anna Nicole. Sane people reading the book can gather that Donna only actually met Anna Nicole once or twice, and that the rest of the book is speculation or hearsay. There's not much juicy insight into the life of Anna Nicole, who Donna constantly refers to as Vickie, as though the knowledge of her given name implies intimate knowledge of her person.
Train Wreck is about Donna. The narrative makes it obvious that it'd be impossible for Donna to write a book about anyone other than herself. Even the photos are mostly photos of her and her own family and friends.
Donna's jealous obsession with Anna Nicole can certainly be grating. She describes the occasions they actually met in agonizing detail. 'The Calendar Signing'... we get to hear all about how she had a hard time finding parking and how rude Anna Nicole was to her.
When Donna talks about mutual family/acquaintences of Anna Nicole and herself, she bizarrely presumes that the press was more interested in her secondhand account than that of the family members who actually personally knew Anna Nicole.
In one of the more amazing insights into the dramatic mind of Donna Hogan (and others like her), she recounts how Anna Nicole expressed desire to adopt Donna's daughters at a time when Donna was impoverished. Anna Nicole might be crazy as shit herself, but a normal person would know that fact and the situation would end there. But not Donna. She goes on to talk about how she had to "struggle to keep her daughters", and how Anna Nicole was somehow going to snatch her newborn right from the delivery room. She says she had to move to Wisconsin to get away from her.
What the fuck is she talking about? At this point it becomes painfully obvious that Donna is bizarre and dramatic and crazy.
That's in one of the early chapters. The problem with this book is that it is too long and repetitive. But I still think it has something to offer the world.
This is why my partner and I are creating a series of monologues and re-enactments of "Train Wreck." We'll be condensing the important points, recreating the events and bringing this story to the theater, where it belongs. There may be a musical number or two.
If you're not ready for the commitment of going to your nearest Barnes & Noble and buying the 70% off hardback edition of "Train Wreck" (as I did), keep your eye out for the debut of "Train Wreck: The Mind of Donna Hogan", coming soon to a stage near you (if you live in Baltimore.)

I'm sittin at home alone and I just made a peach meringue pie. peaches aren't in season though so I used peaches from a jar and the filling's too watery.

In contrast to others, my schedule is not nuts because I don't think anyone is interesting or worth knowing or talking to unless they're one of my few friends or have something to offer me and nobody does because everyone's a waste of time. Not just in this town either.. like everywhere basically.
Well ok I know of some interesting people but they don't go anywhere either and I guess that makes me feel better about it since I'm 26 and still can't get over the 6 years of a social life I gave my best effort at.

I took some valarian root and I'm waiting for it to kick in. Then I wake up in the morning and go pick weeds at the arboretum. One or two of the people there seem worth knowing actually. I guess. My boyfriend talks to the neighbors and he told them I work at the arboretum and I am still irritated because I don't like anyone to know anything about me ever unless I choose to tell them.

Oh yeah I'm an "actress" in a stage play going on in a few weeks.

There's this quote that only Chris X will know.. this guy saying "you don't really have to talk to people when you have guns around," and thats how I feel about metalworking basically.

I like baking for people though. And a few weeks ago I was going to go to a real play at Center Stage but then I didn't.

I remember when I was highly literate or at least I looked at the screen when I typed and I composed paragraphs about my feelings and eliminated repetitive phrases and everything was supposed to be eloquent.
I don't feel like writing that way much anymore because I don't like the formality it implies.

I just took a video of the cats wrestling. I could watch that shit for hours. I love it when they wrestle

This is Kiki McClean. She's a Clinton campaign adviser or something. She's on CNN a lot. She is the most annoying lady alive and I hate her. That is all.

except making this crap

help us we're homeless!

---

7000 Clams by Lee Irby
I got this book from book thing about 2 years ago. It had a lady in a martini glass on the front and it was 1920s period fiction and I wanted to write a novel myself of dark 1920s period fiction. I wanted to write a book peripherally involving Bix Beiderbecke and some obsessive fan who has a one night stand with him or something. So I thought this book might give me some inspiration. I read half of it on the bus home from New York in 2006. It was kind of lame and corny. I made myself finish it a few months ago and it was still lame and corny. It's about some zany smalltime crook who goes to Florida to try to blackmail Babe Ruth. It also involves his lameass whiny rich girlfriend, a weirdo serial killer, and a feisty broad who seems ok but (spoiler) in the end it turns out she's not on the run because she's an awesome badass but because she witnessed a crime.



Mae West: It Aint No Sin by Simon Louvish
Did I already mention this book? Best book about Mae West (and I've read a few). Some new documents have been released or something. Focuses on the early years (I'm glad. I cringe to read about her wacky old age new age antics), and attempts to reveal the truth about Mae as a calculated hardworking writer who mostly kept to herself and wrote and jotted down jokes constantly and wrote and re-wrote every play dozens of times. It also annoyed me by printing verbatim memos from the censors. Burned me up. Made me want to track down their grandchildren and be like "your granddad was an asshole and a prude."



No Applause Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous by Trav S. D.
Fucking awesome is what this book was. Full of fun facts about the entertainers (did you know there was a Houdini ripoff named Boudini? lolz), but primarily a great depiction of the business of vaudeville itself, from an entrepreneurial attempt to market entertainment to stodgy ole puritanical Americans, developing into the essential bush leagues of American entertainers, shaking up multicultural, sexual and class status quo a bit, being consumed by Live-Nation-ass corporate monopolizing unionbusters, and finally yielding to technology and progress.



1929: A Novel of the Jazz Age by Frederick Turner
I went to return 7000 Clams to bookthing and wandered around there a bit and found this book. What the hell, sweet more period fiction. I read the book-jacket on my walk home. What the hell! Dark 1920's period fiction peripherally involving Bix Beiderbecke. Can this be a genre or did I miss my chance?
Well anyway this book is way better than 7000 clams so far (I'm only half through). More lyrically written yet less cartoony. No weirdo serial killer so far, yet the book is much more macabre and believable in its depictions of the criminal, sexual and alcoholic antics of its characters.
I still wouldn't say it's a great book. I think any fiction set in the past is just bound to come off pretty cheesy.

When I'm done it I have another book about Vaudeville and a book about Flappers and another piece of fiction entitled "Sunset and Sawdust" about some sassy broad in the 30s. It was on sale at Barnes and Noble.

Starting in a few weeks I'm gonna volunteer at an arboretum on Saturdays from 9am until about noon.
I have been very fatigued lately and debated giving up this plan but then I thought that maybe being outdoors will actually give me more energy.
My chicken-cooking class is on Wednesday.
I spend the rest of my weekends in the jewelry studio. Currently taking a rings class.


I found all those little copper "Z" squares all over the floor of the studio. Soldering them like that was actually rather challenging.

By far my most crowd-pleasing piece has been the carrot:

I plan to heat the surface a little to bring out the dirty carroty texture and then give it to my mom.

We had a project with many requirements including a bezel, a box that closes and has a stand.. a hinge. So I made this conceptual monstrosity. The box is circular, the stand holds it closed, the hinge is the clasp. The box on a normal chain or the chain by itself would be attractive.


open:


Here's my apple from the very first class I took. I can't believe that was a whole year ago. What the fuck.


Spring months are always very exciting for me but I'm particularly nostalgic about last spring. I try not to avoid thinking that I gave it up my lifestyle for my current happiness but rather believe that it was leading into it.

Did I already mention here that I'm doing unicornmeat.com again?

well I am.

I know I already talked about my garden. Here's an ASCII rendition of my yard:

flowers in the front and back and carrots, chives and tomatos all along the narrow side and herbs in the box in the back. Lots and lots of basil.
This spring will be just as good as the last one. Probably better.

The Orphanage aka El Orfanato

I recommend this movie.

Unless you are off-put but certain cliches of creaking hinges and creepy children (occasionally in masks), old buildings with antique furniture, all that kinda stuff.

However, if, like me you love the timeless themes of hanutings and old buildings and scary noises at night, this movie might deliver more than a lot of other movies (I've seen) in that vein.

My enjoyment of it may be tied in with my general love for "old" stuff. I can get into scenes taking place in musty damp basements with ominous dark corners. Even in fucking "One Missed Call" there is an entrance into an abandoned burned out hospital and the main character goes crawling through ducts to find a rotted dead body that I liked watching.

But unlike One Missed Call, El Orfanato didn't really have a gimmick or any kind of new twist or whatever. It was more like a grilled cheese sandwich done really well as opposed to a grilled cheese sandwich made with gruyere or some shit.

I'm tryin' to make brunch here on New Years day, around 3 or 4.
I'm only gonna do it if a few people rsvp though so.. get in touch.

I was in charge of making a vegetable for Christmas so I made this one. Here's the original recipe. I did not puree the entire thing, because I like some texture. Also I went heavier on the spices as I'm known to do.

2 lbs of carrots
4 cups vegetable stock
a few potatoes peeled and cubed

1 medium onion
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1-2 cloves of garlic
thyme, marjoram and basil to taste (recipe suggests 1tsp each. I used 1 tbsp at least of each, fresh, heaviest on the thyme for that cozy homecooked taste)

1/2 cup of heavy cream

Simmer carrots, potatoes and stock for about 15 minutes in a pot until soft then put them in a blender and puree.

In a separate pan, sautee onion, garlic and almonds until the onion begins to become translucent, then stir in seasonings and sautee for a minute more.
stir that stuff into the carrot puree, along with 1/2 cup of heavy cream (I had a bunch of it from making pies.. milk would do fine especially if you cooked it down a few minutes more afterwards.

Heat it all up real hot then serve it. I recommend adding a good amount of fresh ground black pepper.

Maryland White Potato Pie

2 Medium Potatoes, cooked, peeled and mashed
2/3 cup butter or margarine
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/2 cup milk
2 tsp grated lemon rind
2 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
4 eggs, beaten
1 unbaked (9-inch) pastry shell

Combine potatoes, butter, sugar, baking powder and salt in a medium mixing bowl; mix well. Gradually add whipping cream and milk, stirring until well blended. Stir in lemon rind, juice, vanilla and nutmeg. Add eggs; mix well.
Pour mixture into pastry shell. Bake at 350 for 55 minutes or until a knife inserted in center comes out clean [I NEVER use that method! A clean knife=burntass pie/cake - Kara]. Cool. Yield: one 9-inch pie.