A Legend is Hatched! I Go to Russia!
The one thing every international incident needs is me... and my childhood journals.
A madcap romp. A caviar dispatch. A nuisance in the lobby. Sophisticated boom-boom. A cult and occult favorite. Falbalas et Fanfreluches. In Technicolor. With special guest appearances by an illustrious cat. Or an over-privileged and under-boundaried person's quest for fame and the assuaging of her own ego. Read past editions here.
People are always asking me why I am wearing a fur coat and fur hat in June. The answer is, of course, because I am in Russia.
You’re probably wondering how I have ended up in Russia. And that means it is time for a flashback.
It all started a few weeks ago when the WGA went on strike…
I was planning on going on strike too, but people kept saying that, for me, that would be redundant. So since I wouldn’t be going on strike, I decided to find a way to go around the strike.
Of course, there are known ways to get around the WGA strike, like going to France or being popular on social media. But escaping to France tends to not work out well for Jews and I don’t believe in social media, since I believe all media should be exclusively about me.
So I decided to look through my old work, since that way I would not be writing—I would be validating. Luckily, I have a 100% track record of never getting anything produced.
I went to my archive, which is kept in a hatbox from Bendel’s. I know some of you are thinking, for continuity, this should be a Bergdorf’s box, but believe me when I say continuity will not matter in this story.
It was in my archive that I found my childhood journals, including my journal from Russia. And while flipping thorough my old journals, for some reason I cannot explain, I thought maybe I should use this of not being on strike to think of what I could do for the world… It was then that it occurred to me that the one thing every international incident needs is me. Because, of course, my childhood journal would have insights that could be helpful in understanding whatever invasion or coup was currently happening in Russia (it is hard to keep track). After all, if there are two things I am not know for it is accuracy and proportional emotional responses.
So I decided to make my childhood journal from Russia public, which would have the benefit of being both helpful and still about me. Plus, this is the type of inspiring story that Hollywood loves to option. And as the saying goes: Hollywood helps those who help themselves.
Victoria’s Russia Journal
October 3rd, 1997 On the way to Russia. We are flying west, which means we could have stopped in Hollywood on the way, but, as usual, I am being denied my destiny, which is absolutely the biggest injustice to happen to me, personally, in the last 24 hours. Luckily, I have brought my notebook full of screenplay ideas and my binder of sheet music, so I will just think of this as un-interrupted time to work on my cabaret act and my movie. After all, Hollywood isn’t just a place—it’s a state of mind. October 4th, 1997 On another airplane. We’re in Russia now so we’re flying on Aeroflot. There’s a pair of chickens in the seat across the aisle. I think the guys sitting behind me are in the mafia. October 4th, 1997 (later) Big news! The plane had to stop to re-fuel in the middle of nowhere and we just took off again, but the guys who were sitting behind me are no longer on the plane. I investigated and it turns out, those guys were in the mafia! And the airline crew purposefully left them behind in the middle of nowhere. I guess I should have known something was up when the airport that we stopped at to refuel was missing an airport. But there is a lesson in this. Because earlier, when I said that the guys behind me were in the mafia, I was just making it up. But I was right. So the big takeaway here is that I have the ability to control reality. P.S. They were left behind because they kept asking for peanuts; not because they were in the mafia. P.P.S. The chickens are still on the plane. October 5th, 1997 We’re in Vladivostok, which is the capitol of Siberia—and let me tell you, it shows. Apparently, it used to be common practice to bug the hotel rooms of Americans. We were told to not worry about this, but also “you never know.” I said this wouldn’t be a problem for me either way because if there are two things I’m good at it’s finding a microphone and being loud. October 7th, 1997 Today we went to a park where they keep all of the statues they’ve had to tear down. It was a big park! While we were there, I got stuck talking to some government guy—or maybe he was former KGB, he was a little unclear. He didn’t really like Americans but he was a big fan of two American movies: Arsenic and Old Lace and Clue. October 9th, 1997 Can’t find any Faberge eggs for sale. October 10th, 1997 I got in trouble because I kept bursting into people’s rooms to pitch them my movie ideas. Apparently that’s a “violation of boundaries.” God, are there no advantages to being in this country! October 12th, 1997 I have been asked to speak at a local school where the students have never met an American before. I got a whole lecture about how I needed to take this seriously as I will be representing America. I told them I’d keep that in mind when deciding what song I would preform. I think I’ll go with “Shy” from Once Upon a Mattress. October 13th, 1997 Someone thought it would be a good idea to sit me down and see what I actually knew about Cold War history. Or, more accurately, if I knew anything about Cold War history. I said: Yes, obviously, I know about mutually assured destruction—why do you think I’ve been writing down everything everyone says? October 15th, 1997 People in this country talk a lot about John Lennon. Weird. October 16th, 1997 People at the school loved me. I got a lot of laughs! They inspired me to try reading Anna Karenina. Some people complain about books that are very long, but I like them because I see them as a challenge. Although, honestly, I’m almost positive I could write a longer book than Tolstoy. October 19th, 1997 No one will speak to me which is, I think, an over the top reaction to the day’s events. Yesterday, it was announced that we’d be going camping. I said I was Jewish and I refusenik. But, as usual, I was forced into it anyway. Thus, I found myself camping east of Siberia. To get me “out of the way” I was given the task of collecting drinking water. This meant using a water purifier on actual seawater from the Sea of Japan (it boarders with Russia). So there I was forced to sit on a rock and collect water into the purifier. And how could I help it if I got distracted and dropped the water purifier and it floated out to sea? October 20th, 1997 On a train. I am being forced to sit by myself, since no one finds my “go throw yourself in front of a train” jokes funny. I guess they just don’t translate well. Although, everyone I’ve told them to speaks English. October 21st, 1997 We are at a hotel somewhere in Siberia. I am using the term hotel loosely as we’re actually staying in a converted sanatorium. Finally, it’s my time to shine! October 21st, 1997 (later) Yeah, yeah, I am a seagull. I know. October 22nd, 1997 Today we went to visit some gulags. A gulag archipelago, which does not sound at all like what it actually means, not that I knew what it meant, but I assumed that I actually probably did, which was proven incorrect once I overheard someone explaining it. All of which is to say there was a slight misunderstanding this afternoon. One can only imagine my disappointment when I was told that, “no, this was not a chance for a musical performance.” I’d even spent all of last night working on my set list and was completely prepared to do all of my songs a cappella and at any tempo. But no! I was told that would be “inappropriate.” I am devastated. A great injustice took place at that gulag! October 23rd, 1997 I have arrived in Moscow! We couldn’t check into our hotel when we were supposed to because there was a mafia hit in the lobby. We were told not to worry though because the police were on their way to cover it up. October 23rd, 1997 (later) I thought I’d go to an opera tonight but I was told that, for me, that would be redundant. This afternoon, I went sightseeing in Moscow, but it was hard to get around since the streets are overrun with Mercedes hummers. I didn’t even know Mercedes made hummers! I thought they were illegal? They’re like mini-tanks. I am told they’re popular with oligarchs. And while I do not know what an oligarch is specifically, I feel like I definitely know intuitively. And while my intuition has led me astray recently, I feel like this time it won’t. October 24th, 1997 Once again, I was forced to have a conversation about my knowledge of Russian/Cold War history. These adults were like “what grade are you in? What have you learned in school?” And I told them I hardly ever got to school, but recently there was Green Acres marathon on TVLand, so don’t worry about it. They looked truly aghast and very concerned that I might cause some sort of incident (again). So I said, “Green Acres” very slowly and with emphasis. They still looked aghast. I continued, “Green Acres: a television show about the conflict between an agrarian lifestyle and conspicuous capitalist consumption, that regularly breaks the fourth wall, and has a pig named Arnold that can send certain characters secret messages.” I understand Russia perfectly! October 25th, 1997 I am currently sitting in the hotel bar. I love hotel bars. You meet so many people! Currently, there are two oligarchs at the next table. The first oligarch is telling the second oligarch about a museum he’s funding in London called Nothing to See Here. October 26th, 1997 I got food poisoning and now the only thing I can eat is caviar. October 27th, 1997 If I have learned one thing in Russia, it’s that sitcoms can prepare you for most international relations.
***
As I am sure is obvious from reading these entries, upon my journal’s release to the public, I naturally ended up in Russia. Am I actually in Russia? Do I now work for the CIA? Or am I actually just wandering around Brighton Beach very inappropriately dressed?
In the words of Eloise, “Nyet. Very, nyet.”
Victoria
Special Announcement: Yesterday, the President attended a fundraiser in my building. So, yes, I wrote about Russia, while the Secret Service was in the building. The risks I will take for comedy…should be more rewarded! And I am proud to say, while the Secret Service is prepared for many things, they were not prepared for me wandering the building attempting to get comedic material.
Holiday Announcement: It’s almost the 4th of July, which is one of my favorite holidays because it is campy and narcissistic—just like me. So I wanted to share two of my favorite 4th of July performances. Mitzi Gaynor singing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” (it begins at roughly 13 minutes in) and Bette Midler singing “Oklahoma” (in a giant clam shell).
Footnotes:
I have been to Russia twice. Once in 1997 and once in 2000, and both times I did keep a journal. But as anyone who has ever received an email or text from me can surmise, the real entries are significantly longer. Although, they were addressed to an audience.
Yes, both mafia incidents really happened.
Yes, I was forced to go camping. Yes, I lost the water purifier when it floated out to sea.
Yes, I was asked to speak at a school and, no, I was not allowed to perform for them.
It was the Sarah Jessica Parker production of Once Upon a Mattress that was my inspiration.
When I was in Russia in 1997, I remember an American who worked there saying that one time she’d been so jetlagged she’d confused Lenin with John Lennon. At the time, I only had a foggy idea of who John Lennon was. Much like when I met Mohammad Ali at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and told him I really enjoyed his appearance on The Sonny and Cher Show.
The refuseniks were Jews in the Soviet Union who were not allowed to emigrate by the government, despite religious persecution.
“I am a seagull” is from The Seagull.
Gulag Archipelago is a book, but also refers to the prison and labor camps of the Soviet Union.
If you’ve been reading this newsletter and still need an explanation for Green Acres, I don’t know what to tell you.
“Nyet. Very nyet” is from Eloise in Moscow.
