Chicago – Constance Kuntz

I hold you, babe.

Jocelyn played Debussy while the returns played on the screen at Tuesdays@9 Chicago.

Generally speaking, I don’t lose sleep when celebrities die. But a few days ago, Quincy Jones died and I found myself tossing and turning. I’ve been a fan of Mr. Jones since the 1980s. In recent years, I’ve enjoyed watching two Netflix documentaries about him: Quincy is about his career and personal life, and The Greatest Night in Pop is about his involvement with the “We Are the World” music video. Both are downright inspiring.

Jones obviously loved music and collaborating; and whenever someone so deeply and successfully loves their craft — and commits to it through thick and thin — and actually loves and somehow holds all the people it touches — Lord have mercy, I am moved. May we all be so held! And may we all hold our craft.

***

Norm Macdonald died in 2021. I lost sleep when he died, too. He was a phenomenal comedian, writer, and host. He was so original and obviously someone who loved his work deeply.

Not long before he died, he interviewed Jane Fonda on “Norm Macdonald Has a Show.” It was completely enjoyable and at the end, he kissed Jane Fonda fully on the lips. It was hot.

I have watched the interview — and the kiss — several times, not because I’m a pervert, but because I wanted to analyze the buildup. I wanted to see if I could figure out how it happened. I never figured out how it happened but I do believe that only people who hold and are held by their craft can kiss like that. Macdonald’s commitment to long anecdotal jokes, amazing writing, and exquisite stand-up inspire and motivate me every day. He was held by his craft.

That was the last time I lost sleep when a celebrity died.

***

The last time I lost sleep when a politician died was in 2002. That’s when Minnesota Senator Paul Wellstone was killed in a plane crash just days before the election. This was back when I lived in Minneapolis, where Wellstone was not only respected and beloved by both parties, he was expected to run for president. Wellstone was held by his politics and the political community seemed to hold him, too.

It was a strange time in politics. It was the post 911 days: George W. Bush was president, Jesse Ventura was governor, Wellstone was dead, a Republican won his seat, and we were at war with Iraq, not to mention involved in several other “armed conflicts.” I didn’t necessarily lose sleep every night, but I didn’t start sleeping well until 2007, when Obama was elected president.

***

Going back in time to 1998, I recollect another time I lost sleep when a politician died. That’s when Sonny Bono died in a skiing accident. This is so stupid, but at the time I still held hope that he and Cher would get back together. I saw them sing “I Got You Babe” on David Letterman’s late night show in 1987 and marveled at how comfortable and careful they were with each other. Surely they would get back together.

Anyway…

After a successful career in entertainment Sonny Bono moved to politics. He became the Republican mayor of Palm Springs, California and later served the Golden State as a congressman. But then he skied into a tree and died.

Not long before he died, Sonny Bono called then-Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich (also a Republican) out for being inappropriate. For once, “inappropriate” wasn’t tied to sexual behavior. Bono said Gingrich was inappropriate because Newt had gone from being a politician to a celebrity. Bono said, “You need handlers. You need to understand what you’re doing. You need to understand the attitude of the media toward celebrities.” Bono thought Gingrich needed to be reminded that he was to be a politician first, not a celebrity.

Isn’t that interesting? A former celebrity called another Republican out for being blinded by their own celebrity status.

I (still) disagree with Bono’s conservative politics. For one, he co-sponsored the Defense of Marriage Act, which –until 2013 — prohibited the federal government from recognizing same-sex marriages. It was passed by Congress in 1996 and signed into law by Mr. Marriage himself, then-President Bill Clinton. But my point isn’t that I’m sitting here counting the countless hypocrisies of our nation’s leaders. My point is I respect that Bono confronted Gingrich. I think that’s important.

***

Fast forward to the Obama years. Unsurprisingly, Gingrich was a vocal critic of President Barack Obama. He called Obama a “con” motivated by a “Kenyan, anti-colonial” worldview. Moreover, the racist Gingrich was an early and ardent supporter of Donald Trump before, during, and after his first election. Last month, Gingrich said on The New Yorker Radio Hour and WNYC that “he’s [Trump’s] had four years to think about what he’s learned…and he has a much deeper grasp of what has to be done and how to do it.”

Grasp.

Grasp means to take or seize eagerly. There is nothing deep or comforting about a grasp. Any way you look at it, a grasp is desperate. And once again we are headed into the political clutches of an administration who grabs and grasps.

***

What comes first when you identify yourself? Are you comfortable with who you are and what you do? Do you hold your family, friends, and craft deeply and dearly? Or do you grasp at them whenever you need attention?

***

Last night, while the country and my county voted red, I was at work. Instead of our usual Tuesdays@9 Chicago show with cold readings and a musical guest, we hosted a watch party. We had a huge screen and an open mic where folks could share something creative while we waited for the returns. It was deep, comforting, and enlightening to see artists share poems, stories, and music that were important to them. I saw and learned new things about my colleagues and my family.

***

I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that the majority of the nation and my neighbors re-elected a hate mongering and racist celebrity. It wasn’t even close.

***

Countless celebrities have run for office. Clay Aiken (D), Clint Eastwood (R), Al Franken (D), Melissa Gilbert (D), Fred Grandy (R), Diane Neal (I), Cynthia Nixon (D), Ronald Reagan (R), Arnold Schwarzenegger (R), Jerry Springer (D), George Takei (D), Shirley Temple Black (R), Fred Thompson (R), Jesse Ventura (I), and others. Most of the aforementioned were elected, but a few like Aiken, Gilbert, Neal, and Nixon were unsuccessful candidates. We remember them either way, because they’re celebrities, and they know that.

***

Though Kamala Harris lost the election, I have to believe that progress has been made, and that we can learn and maybe even evolve from this two-party system. Until then, in the words of Langston Hughes, I will “hold fast” to my family, friends, and craft.

And my country.

Thanks for reading (and not grasping). -Constance

P.S. Jocelyn attends Northern Illinois University in DeKalb but took the train into Chicago to participate in our watch party.

My ASMR Journey — Yes, I know it’s a corny title.

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

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Most people don’t know I like ASMR. I should probably keep it that way…

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response (ASMR) started popping up on my radar during the pandemic. I was curious so I did a YouTube search and landed on a video of a woman eating a pickle directly into a microphone. The slobbery audio instantly repulsed me. I was so utterly grossed out that I slammed my laptop shut. In that moment, I assumed all ASMR was nasty and probably pornographic.

A couple years later, I entered my perimenopause era. Sleepless nights, hot flashes and frequent headaches became my new normal. Sorry for bragging!

Nowadays (Nowanights?), when I can’t sleep (and my husband needs to rest), I pop my earbuds in and scroll Instagram reels until I can no longer keep my eyes open.

Most of the reels entertain me just enough to take my mind off my symptoms. Though not an ideal way to fall asleep, I consider the distraction a perimenopausal win. But a couple months ago, something better than a distraction happened. I experienced a brand new sensation: cooling peace.

An ASMR reel by Erica Tokach, also known as @reiki.fairy, played on my phone. Tokach casts from a reiki studio, speaks in a very soft voice and incorporates reiki into her work. Her reel instantly relaxed me. I felt something I rarely feel: pleasantly surprised. I had no idea that the internet could be healing! I would later learn the aforementioned “cooling peace” I felt has a name: “tingle.”

“Tingle,” I’d like you to know, is a word that embarrasses me. At least it used to. Now I associate the word with healing and have spent the past month researching various triggers and learning about their purposes.

I also later learned that the sounds that cause the “tingles” are called “triggers.” I had always thought of that word in a negative context; e.g. “a gun trigger” or a “trigger warning” or “getting triggered.” Now I associate it with peace.

***

After I landed on that initial reel, I started to sift through Instagram in search of more ASMR videos. Many are downright repulsive — the sleazy, pickle-eaters are still out there! But some of the ASMR artists are legitimately calming and I’d like to share three safe, vetted options with you:

@reiki.fairy invites her followers to heal, feel calm and be proud of themselves. She brings a touch of wisdom and unprecedented kindness to her reels.

@safespaceasmr whispers in a calmly lit room and incorporates a touch of humor into her reels. Her, “I heard you have a headache” reel has helped alleviate my headaches.

@mattgangi films his reels outdoors but speaks in an inviting “indoor” voice. He incorporates a groovy, organic vibe into his reels.

I can safely say that these ASMR artists have improved the quality of my sleeping, which is to say quality of my life. If you’re interested, find them on Instagram.

***

For those of you who don’t me, I am a playwright and theatre artist. I am in a constant state of writing, reading and creating things. For the past several months, I have been writing a new play called The Power Room and one of its characters is a talented, young shaman. My goal is to create a play that has a true healing touch on the audience. I want the audience to feel physically and mentally better through this character and this play.

Part of my research involves reading about the craft (mysticism), visiting witch-owned shops and events, spending a lot of time in nature, and testing my craft (theatre) in a variety of different spaces. One such space is Tuesdays@9 Chicago, which is where I work.

Last Tuesday, I performed as A Host of Golden Daffodils. When I perform as “The Daffodils,” I lead with comedy and segue into poetry and spoken word. This time I ditched the comedy and performed an experimental poetic ASMR set. I wanted to see if the combination of light poetry, witchcraft and organic triggers would have a healing effect on a live audience.

Would the audience feel peace? Or would they be repulsed? Would they see value in it? Or would they think it’s stupid? Would they feel healed? Or would they be uncomfortable?

Based on the feedback I received, my piece of experimental theatre worked. I made new discoveries about ASMR’s “place” in theatre and have new ideas about how to focus the intentions and poetry. I’m so grateful!

Now I’d like to test the ASMR a little bit more. If you have seven minutes, could you put your headphones on and watch this video from my ASMR event? To give feedback, simply leave a comment in the feedback form below or email me at connievkuntz@gmail.com.

Intended to be watched in a quiet space with earbuds. It’s experimental and weird.

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Thank you for your response. ✨

Thanks for reading and, if you had the time, watching! -Constance

Four full moons – a haiku series

Daily writing prompt

What are you doing this evening?

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Tonight is the season opener of Naked Angels Tuesdays@9 Chicago and I’m excited! We’ve been off since May and have had four full moons since our last show. For every full moon, I wrote a haiku.

I always give Tuesdays@9 my “all” so by the end of every season, even though I am proud and grateful, I’m also thoroughly exhausted. Here’s the haiku I wrote on the May 23 full moon:

don't howl at the moon
when she's full -- she needs quiet
give her space

But after a couple weeks of recuperating, I was ready to be vulnerable and creative again. Here’s the haiku I wrote the night of the June 21 full moon.

the moon shows herself
fully once a month
i must do the same

In July, I focused on understanding the wild yet reliable nature of creativity. I wrote this haiku on the night of the July 21 full moon.

creativity 
is the moon and the moon is
creativity

That haiku is more of a mantra than a poem but at least it reminds me that my creativity — like the moon — is always there, waxing and waning, and part of something much bigger.

***

In August, I took at solo writing trip to Boston. Even though I have TSA Precheck, I was frisked at O’Hare security because the username on my phone’s flight app said “Connie” and my full name is “Constance.” As she patted me down, the agent told me, “The names have to match.”

Later, I arrived at my hotel in Boston.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“Hi! I’m here to check in. My name is Connie Kuntz.”

With absurd and short-lived glee, I slid my drivers license across the counter. I was ecstatic to be in Boston.

The concierge proceeded to look up my reservation.

With a troubled look on her face, she repeatedly looked at me, my ID and her computer screen. After a minute or two, she picked up her phone and called for backup. A woman came out from the back. As she walked to the counter, she made direct eye contact with me. I’m not sure why, but she scared the shit out of me.

Actually, I do know why. Several years ago I read Heads in Beds, a tell-all memoir about the hotel industry that convinced me that everyone in the hotel industry is a coke-head who hates their “guests.”

Anyway, when she arrived at the counter, she looked at her colleague’s computer screen, then at me, then at my ID, and finally muttered, “‘Connie’ is a nickname for ‘Constance.'”

The concierge looked at me and earnestly asked, “So what should I call you?”

I panicked and said, “Uhhhh….Constance?”

It didn’t feel right. First of all, I have successfully avoided saying “uh” for years. I was pissed at myself for breaking my “no ‘uh’ streak.” On top of that, I wanted to apologize to them and ask for forgiveness. I’ve felt silly about my name my whole life and suddenly found myself wondering why.

There’s nothing wrong with Constance but it does take up a little more space. Why is it so hard for me to make space for my own name?

On the night of the August 19 full moon, I decided it was time to fully embrace Constance so I wrote this haiku.

as the river flows
into the ocean, Connie
flows into Constance

So there you have it. Four haiku poems for the four full moons since Tuesdays@9 broke for the summer. And now you know what my plans are for tonight!

***

For the record, Constance is a work in progress. I still feel a surge of embarrassment and shame whenever someone calls me Constance but at the same time I also realize I am simply trying to flow into myself, into my truth. It’s not that radical a concept and I should have done this years ago. Right?

Thanks for reading. -Constance

The allure of brown signs with white letters

Bloganuary writing prompt

Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven’t got around to visiting.

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You know those brown signs with white lettering that indicate a nearby attraction? I find them irresistible. Jesse and our kids seem to appreciate them, too. In the 19 years of being a parent, I can’t think of a single time anyone in my family has turned down the “opportunity” to follow a brown sign. I can confidently say we have checked out every scenic overlook, city park, museum, historic building, historic district, statue, sculpture, monument, memorial, bridge, what-have-you in the Rockford region.

Except one.

There is a brown sign indicating a train museum about 40 minutes from home in a town called Marengo. Jesse was the first to hear about this museum that’s a “repository of railroad history.”

“We should go,” he said in 2008, when we only had two kids.

“We should go,” he said in 2009, when we had three kids.

“We should go,” he said in 2010, when we had four kids.

“We should go,” he said in 2011. “It’s family friendly!”

We wanted to go, but the museum has limited hours. Every time we tried to plan a trip, the museum was closed.

“That’s too bad,” Jesse would say.

I didn’t think too much of it because I had only heard of the train museum through my husband. I had never seen a single ad — in print or online — about it. I had never seen a brown sign.

***

In 2014, the Des Plaines Oasis (a rest stop) permanently closed. This was bad news for the Kuntz family. We stopped there every time we went to Chicago. It was the last chance for us to use public restrooms without having to pay a toll or buy something. When the kids were little, this rest stop was essential to a successful trip.

When the Des Plaines Oasis was demolished, we were forced to use the truck stop in Marengo on our way to and fro Chicago. They have cheap gas, clean restrooms and you don’t have to pay a toll to exit or enter 90 but it’s somehow located too close and too far from home and our destinations. It wasn’t convenient but it is what we used. When we started going to this “pit stop,” I noticed the brown sign pointing the way to the train museum.

“Is that the train museum you’re always talking about?”

“Yes.”

***

I’ve lost count of how many times we stopped in Marengo to use the bathrooms. At least 100. And we’ve never once followed the brown sign. At some point, going to the train museum just seemed like work. And Marengo, I’m sure it’s a lovely town, but to us it’s where the toilets live. We don’t even call it Marengo. We call it “The Toilets.”

“Where are you right now?” I used to call Jesse when I knew he was on his way home from Chicago.

“Just passed The Toilets,” he’d answer. (Sometimes he called it “The Terlecks.”)

The Toilets = 40 minutes.

***

Now that the kids are older, we rarely stop at The Toilets in either direction but last week when I was driving Jesse to O’Hare, he said he needed to stop. As I drove toward the gas station, I saw the brown sign for the train museum.

“I can’t believe we never made it there,” I said.

“Maybe when we have grandkids,” he said.

***

Thanks for reading. Does your city have brown signs, too? -Connie

Under his ribs the heart of the people

My kids reciting the Chicago by Carl Sandburg in 2014 for National Poetry Month.

Today’s prompt is What is a song or poem that speaks to you and why?

I think about the poem Chicago by Carl Sandburg nearly every day. I have for years. I love the imagery, personification and rhythm. I love its grit. I love how organic and industrial it is. Most of all I love the commitment. The narrator’s commitment to “this my city” speaks to me, not just as a person who loves the city of Chicago, but as a person who loves people.

Here, read:

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Currently, there is a snow plow naming contest in Chicago and “City of the Big Shovelers” is one of the “contestants.” God I hope it wins.

***

I look and listen for poetry everywhere I go. Sometimes it sneaks its way into a conversation and other times it’s just right there in front of me, written on the wall. I’m grateful for it all.

Gallery 400 on the University of Illinois Chicago campus.

A closeup of the things that poetry can do.

Thanks for reading.

Poems not emojis,

Connie

Chicago’s Tuesdays@9 Musicians and Comedians perform at The Annoyance through May

JJ Smith was the Naked Angels Tuesdays@9 Chicago musical guest on April 12. Just brilliant. Tell your smart speaker, “Play JJ Smith” and enjoy.

Naked Angels is the longest cold reading series in the United States and there are still several weeks left in the season. Every week we read five pieces of new writing. During the intermission, we feature a musician or comedian.

Actors show up at 8:30 and say they’d like to read. A whirlwind casting frenzy takes place and the new work is then read onstage.

If you are curious about what these “naked angels” are all about, stop by The Annoyance Theatre & Bar every Tuesday night through May 17, 2022 to experience the glory! It’s free, but bring your ID and proof of vaccination to get in.

Once you’re in, let us know if you’d like to read. Joshua Fardon and Patricia Mario and I are positioned close to the door, so we’re easy to find. To increase your chances of being cast, show up no later than 8:30. The show begins at 9:00 in the little theater. The intermission begins around 10:00 and that’s when the musicians and comedians perform. A lot of fun.

After two years on Zoom, we finally resumed in-person shows in March and Gail Gallagher was our first in-person musical guest.

On March 29, Robbie Ellis was our musical guest.

And on April 5, we hosted Heather Styka.

April 12 was JJ Smith and on April 19, comedian Izzy Salhani will be perform her standup during the intermission. Here’s the schedule for the rest of the season.

Apr. 26 Gail Gallagher

May 03 Matt Keeley

May 10 Robbie Ellis

Robbie Ellis shares his interactive comedy songs with an assist from Rebecca Carver, Maeve Devitt and Michael Bassett.

For our final May 17 in-person show of the season, Aviva Jaye will be our musical guest. Whether you’re a writer, actor, musician or comedian, Tuesdays@9 is for you. In fact, Tuesdays is for everyone.

Thanks for reading. Hope to see you at a Tuesdays soon! -Connie (the music director)

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