Sweet Banana Crepes, Batman!

So, yesterday, I got an agent.  And a callback from The Ride (see Channeling Lisa Simpson).  And booked a commercial!

The commercial ended up not working out (they cast someone else and didn't tell me), the callback is with someone else (more on that later), I'm only freelancing with the agent, not a signed contract. But still- WTF, The Universe??  All in one day?  That's insane, even for New York.  Oh yeah, and I also got up at 6am, worked, went to the gym, and had a student film audition (nailed it).  Life is so camping, sometimes.

Okay, okay, we get it.

Needless to say, in the middle of the afternoon, low on blood sugar, (after gym/work/callback/agent meeting success, but before the commerical re-cast letdown) I saw a sign for "French Crepes".  Word.  Clearly, a Strawberry-Bananna-Nutella "Classic" was in order:

For Visual Celebration Purposes Only.  Mine was twice this big.

Not all the Nutella melted, so accordingly, I had to lick my fingers/ the knife/ the whole plate clean after. (Love being a fat kid!) 

So yeah, the callback for The Ride is cool, actually.  I get to play sax with this amazing, belt-your-face-off, take-em-to-church-voice..all coming from a very sweet girl named Jeanel. They want us to work out a "bit" together..you know, white girl with soulful sax, black girl with soulful pipes.  What's not to love? And you know, the more I think about it, the more "The Ride"  feels like the modern evolution of Vaudeville...except that in this case, the audience travels to the stage, instead of the performers.  I could get down with that.

The future looks swell, kid!

  I actually auditioned for "The Ride" right after Jeanel, and got to hear her sing while I was waiting.  Literally, people were coming OUT OF THEIR OFFICES and CLAPPING HYSTERICALLY when she was singing in the room.  She is that good.  If at least she doesn't get this gig, they are idiots. 

We've been texting back and forth, trying to figure out a piece we can work on together for the callback...and she told me this is the first thing she's auditioned for out of college.  She just graduated this spring, is fron New Jersey, and she's a Music Education Major.  The fresh-faced newbie and the old disillusioned hag, working together, in showbiz, in New York..Someone should make a tv show or something!  Oh wait:

They did.

Anyway, should be on Monday or Tuesday.  Maybe I'll get my broken sax fixed in the meantime.

*Wish us luck!

Other news to report- the agency that I'm freelancing with is called Metropolis Artists Agency.

  They are a pretty newly established, legit agency. They are franchised by the unions, though, and Marius Bargielski, the adorable Polish man who is my agent seems to:

 1) know what he's doing,
b) be very business savvy, and
thirdly) call me on my BS..

...which is a necessary component in any of my relationships. (As my friends well know.)

If you'd like to check out Metropolis Artists Agency's website, it's here. The only problem is, he doesn't want me to move to LA..they are only New York based.  Argh.  Well.  We will cross that bridge when we come to it!


Okay, I think that's all, for now.  It's a gorgeous day in New York, and I have San Francisco wedding photos to stalk on Facebook.

Love and music!  <3

Yin Yangs and Sun Flares: Highlights Edition

My life is always nutso.  17 Million things happening at once..on an easy day.  With little time, and a lotta happenings, here's some highlights:

No, not THAT Highlights! You crazy kids...

Ahem!  My Life, In Reverse Chronological Order:

1) Tonight I'm going to a photography exhibition where Eve Ensler is talking (!!!) And Coco Rosie (well, at least half the band) is playing.  (!!!):

It's this photography exhibition called "Self Evident Truths"- a collection of beautiful/sad/ugly/real portraits of people who have "come out" all over the world..and are sharing their stories in this giant exhibition.

Is this a new concept?  Nah.  But the photos sure are great.  Check out some samples here.  And any place where the author of The Vagina Monologues is gonna be talking...well, just sign me up.

PS- AND it's at a venue called The Hole!  Hahahahaha. I'm 12.

2) Tonight is also the night of a phenomenon called "Manahattan-Henge".  It's where the sun aligns just perfectly over Manhattan for TWO DAYS, so that as you look from East to West Across the Avenues, you get a God-Like Blinding Solar Flare:

Whooooaaa... that's like...bright, man...

 Gotta love that sun.  Who's ready for creative cursewords from cabbies caught in the crosstown crush?


3)  I saw the first of my best friends from home, Sierra June, get married this weekend...in San Francisco.  Dear God...what a magical joy filled place that city is!  It was a BEE-YOO-TIFUL ceremony in City Hall.  That place is so goergeous, and EVERYONE looked so elegant and joy filled (especially the bride)...I fell in love with the world, with my friends, and wanted to get married on the spot.

I would...Would you?

There was also a beautiful giant lotus (an installation from the Asian Art Museum) right oustide after we exited the light palace of City Hall. The giant red petals sway in the (freezing) San Fran Winds.

You know. As a reminder to be flexible. And that flowers DO grow out of the mud.

It's a metaphor!  Finally, right?

Then we took a party bus to the reception!!  I was worried about my voice for a while... and it WAS indeed, too difficult not to talk.

Then after a bit, I said, "Fuck it."   I just talked. And drank. And sang! And enjoyed my life.  You know?  Because if I'm gonna lose my voice, it's gonna be because I had a great time at my best friends' wedding, in a gorgeous city with amazing people.

And know what else?  My voice didn't disappear!  It's still crackly, but I can talk.  Now I'm babying the voice again, and not drinking again, or talking outside on a cellphone.

But MAN was this weekend worth it. Great food, friends, dancing, music..and life.  I even met someone..that I actually like!  (Gasp. I know, right?)  He's a pharmacist.  We went on several dates. One of them was to buy Plan B.  Hooray!

Not THAT Plan B!  You crazy kids...

4) Anway, for Nikki's Final Moment, I guess I'll just wrap with the whole Life is a Balancing Act /Swaying Lotus Flower/ Bowl of Cherries thing.  I mean, it's a cop-out, but it's true, too.  Me not talking makes my friends uncomfortable.  I see this happening.  All the time, but at a wedding especially.  And I HATE making people uncomfortable...especially my best friends.  It's really the worst feeling in the world.  They don't know what to say, or how to treat me, or what to expect from me when I can't verbally express myself.

But at the same time my voice is like a saxophone reed...strong and flexible- til I misuse it, and it cracks.

In yin-yang conclusion... Here's some heavy:

It's a metaphor!

With some light:

Just plain awesome.

Stay tuned...

Channeling Lisa Simpson

Hey Kids!

Today we're gonna talk about the saxophone.  Specifically, MY saxophone, which I am playing for an audition today, for the first time in a whiiiiiilllle.

Yup, it's a Yamaha.  Student Model.   Deal with it.

Today I have an audition for this thing called "The Ride".  [Insert Ye Olde "Towne Bi-cycle" jokes here.] 

This is their website: http://www.experiencetheride.com

Basically what it is, as far as I can tell, is an NYC  tourist bus where the seats face horizontally- as in towards the large side windows instead of out front.  REVOLUTIONARY, you say??  Well just you wait, little ones. There's so much more.  Oh yes, you and 25 German senior citizens will tour New York City from 42nd St. to 59th/ Columbus Circle (Midtown! Or as I call it- Satan's Asshole!). And as you're traveling through this charmingly traffic-ridden tourist trap, actors and performers will pop out on the streets and do little mini performances on the sidewalk.  Liiiike THIS (thanks youtube!):

As my roommate remarked, "Wowwww. The Ride, huh? Art is not dead, Nicole."

Shut up, Joe.

So, they're auditioning me to be Lisa Simpson, methinks.  I'd be the girl who would pop out and play like, "New York State of Mind" or "Autumn Leaves" on one of the stops, while Japanese tour groups took pictures of my blond pointy hair.  Haha. Should be a fun day either way.  And playing sax, I don't have to talk/ yell!!  Wahoo!!  Bonus.

So, right, story: Lily From The Ride calls me at 5pm yesterday, as I was coming home from the gym.  Please bear in mind that I submitted for this audition on Backstage.com for this THREE MONTHS AGO.  Not expecting anything when I put through my headshot and resume and claimed to be great at sax. Just thinking: "That bus looks silly, and hey, it's paid!" Also, mind you,  I'm not supposed to even be talking outside AT ALL, much less talking above ambient street noise on my cell (horrors!).  So, listening to Lily From The Ride leave a message on the vm (that's "voicemail", for all of you who don't live at an office), I duck into a bodega to call her back.

Who's hungry?

In that midtown deli, next to steaming piles of General Tsao's and limp broccoli, I start to realize that the real problem with the whole "not talking" deal is that I'm so damn charismatic!  Or at least, I want to be.  Ok, I like to flirt with EVERYone, normally.  I find that people do more things for you if you smile. Also, it's fun to play with strangers! And as Grandpa Lewis used to say, "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Squeaky Britches".  (I used to love to wear corderoy pants..therefore "squeaky britches".. ok, my family is from the South, ALRIGHT?!) 

So anyway, trying to "limit my talking" on a phone conversation with a stranger, who I'm both trying to get to schedule an appointment around my insane schedule, AND getting her to like me enough to pay me to perform is.. difficult. For me. To say the least.

Also, my saxophone is actually, physically broken (the low D key isn't sealing correctly, therefore it sounds like a goose in heat and/or labor in the lower register), PLUS I was babysitting all yesterday evening after work, then working again at 9am in the morning- (remember when I told you that the word "rest" is a foreign concept?)  In addition to that, Lily From The Ride can only see me before 1pm for an audition.  Oh, of course she can. Because I work from 9-1:30pm.

So.  You know.  You make do.

Got coverage at work from my grrrRREAT receptionist buddy, Michele. (She's hilarious, and an actor/ puppeteer.  Check out HER blog on having hip problems and being crippled for 6 weeks in New York,  it's what inspired me to complain about my problems to a larger audience!:  Food, Exercise, and Shit That Makes Me Mad)

After Michele graciously agreed to come in an hour early, I still had the problem of a broken horn and not having played, really, for like...uhh a year.  Euuugh.  So I come home from babysitting at 11pm, knowing I physically NEED to practice but of course the roomies are asleep.  Have you ever tried to play a broken saxophone quietly at 11pm?  Here's a tip: Don't.  It will only end in tears.

Chops?  What chops?

[Pause- sitting at Reception at work and OH MY GOD I just saw someone trip and stumble in her heels while strutting through the door. Hahaha yessss.  No boxes were dropped, unfortunately.]

Back to the story.  What's a girl to do with rusty major scales, sleeping roommates and a broken sax?

Go to the roof, of course:

Party of one.

From 11pm -MidnightThirty, I slowly got my chops back, playing on my rooftop in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.  Funnily enough, because I couldn't play in my low register, I kept having to work out tunes I could play in the upper register.  All these squeaky high notes set about 6 of the dogs in my neighborhood howling.  My life is a cartoon.

But, dogs, broken instrument, and all,  EVENTUALLY I figured out three different songs I can play at the audition.

And now, in about 2 hours, I'll go to audition for The Ride.  Gonna show 'em the actual range of the horn with Van Morrison's "Moondance", slow-jam 'em with "Stormy Weather", and then end it on a high note with MJ's "The Way You Make Me Feel". While wearing my sparkly shoes and lucky pink dress.  And playing my broken sax- with all my soul.  Cuz you never know where an audition will lead...

The original Soulful White Girl.

Corndogs and Milkshakes

Hoookay, so!  I'm drunk at work.  Still.   From last night.  It's 10:36 and I want to faceplant on the Reception desk.

So much for not drinking for a month.  D'oh!

"Just one glass" of white wine last night (while "not talking") turned into 5 glasses, being the last one of my friends left at the bar, finishing off my friend's whiskey, and whispering about Texas/ fundamentalist Islam/ sex positions with a Daniel Day Lewis look-alike.

His milkshake brings all the boys to the yard?

DAMN. And I usually don't go for beards.

After 2 hours of sleep (draw your own conclusions),  I woke up this morning late for work, and stumbled (literally, stumbled- I'm still drunk, remember) to the train in a THUNDERSTORM. Woman on the street next to me after epic lightening/ thunder crash: "Aww HELL naw! I'm gettin in a cab, I don't play this sh*t!"  Me either, Angry Woman on the Street.  ME EITHER.

So, you know, I left everything except my hangover and sunburn at home.  I thought I was gonna throw up on the train- ohhh, 3 separate times.  Then the dude next to me sneezed- ON MY HANDS.  Gross.  I mean, my tolerance for subway germs/ behavior is pretty high, but dude, seriously?  Seriously.  That's what the crooks of your elbows are for.  Do not sneeze without covering your face!!!  By the way, winning at Monopoly on your phone doesn't make you a good human.  It just makes you a good button pusher.

Anyway, whatever Monsoon Monday- you can can suck itttt!  I'm over this bad mood. I'm just gonna bump some Jay-Z in my headphones and watch white girls carry boxes in heels.

That's me in the corner...

ANYWAY - Yesterday was such a great day.   Actually the whole weekend was marvelous.  Basically I've been doing activities that are free, where I don't have to talk to people.  Because I'm broke! And on vocal rest. And New York is a city for wandering adventures- IF it's nice out. And this weekend was a beauty.

Met with a possible agent at The Network on Saturday... so we will see where that goes. And saw my AMAZING co-worker in a show on Saturday night.  It was a musical about orphan musicals, called Unamed Broadway Musical: The Musical!  (Due to copyright issues, they couldn't say it was based on and inspired by the idea of an all-adult cast doing "Annie" or "Oliver" but it totally was, dude!)

Cast of UBM:TM!

 The show took place in a really lovely space (The Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts), and the show itself was funny, sweet, and moving.  Big ups to Brian Dunlop- and the whole cast- for making some brave, bold and hilarious choices.  It was inspiring to watch that kind of commitment on stage!  For more info about the show (and unique concept), check here.

Then- I took my yearly solo trip to Coney Island on Sunday morning! .

Ahhh, corndogs. 

So you know, I'm climbing all over the jetty (no lifeguards!  SWAG), watching kids play in the freezing water, contemplating how awesome my life is, when I have to go to the bathroom.  After answering nature's call, I start to wander down the boardwalk, eating trail mix, watching European tourists wear funny hats. (It is not cold enough for fur, Germany.) Then I pass a sign slapped on the side of a wall.  It's a bright orange posterboard that says "ART SHOW" in a graffiti tag. 1949 Macdonald Ave, Brooklyn. 2-8pm, Sunday May 20th. "Ohcool...ilovegraffiti.......... heythat'srightnow!" go the thoughts in my sun-addled brain.

But then... WherethehellisMacdonaldAve?

I grab a delicious, 9,0000 calorie meal at Nathan's and contemplate my next move.  Do I follow this sketchy, hand-lettered sign to a place I don't know how to get to, and have never heard of, alone?  Or do I stay at my beloved Coney, dodging tourists, seagull poop and sandstorms?

Welp, I truly can NOT turn down a dare. Ever. Especially from myself.

And a corndog and a Google Maps search (from a friendly Puerto Rican couple at Nathan's) later, I take the F train to:

...which I follow to this place....

...which has like, a DJ bumping hiphop and 6 pieces of art INside, when you walk through the fire exit, you find it's really about these guys...

..doing this on the wall in an alley OUTside.

None of this is visible from the street, of course. Yeah.  My brain says: iLoveNewYork.

Then I left BK, to travel to Central Park- to film a promo for the play I'm in at the end of the summer.

On the train to Manhattan, I look out the window while we're stopped, and see written either "Joy" or "Oy" (or possibly loy?):

Subway wall of Joy/Oy.  And yes, those are 3 Hasids sitting across from me.

 The play we are trying raise money for is Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead. It follows the Peanuts characters as they move through angsty, painful, hilarious high school shenanigans.  I'm playing Marcie: the nerd-turned-party-girl, (A leeetle too close to home).  She's sidekick to Peppermint Patty (who now goes by Trish).    More on this soon, as rehearsals start!

For now, I'll leave you with the view looking up as we were filming in Central Park:

Thanks, The Universe. Great job.

I'm old...SWAG

     When I started this blog (yesterday), I figured it would go the way of most blogs- and, let's face it, all of my recent relationships.

You know.  Frequent, excited chats for the first  few days, then the inevitable dwindling into a few choice words  every couple of weeks, accompanied by apologetic 7th-grade excuses ("Sorry, Journal, I've been reallllly busy"), and finally, the an annual message or two, with a random musing and maybe a photo, just to soften the blow.

You never call me anymore.

EXCEPT that I can't talk, and am a secretary with nothing to do, so you get me every day that I'm bored at work.. (for at least a month).

Suckaaas!

Okay...so here's a thought:

What does "swag" actually mean?  I mean, I know that it means showing off your shit, right?  And there's that Weezy song...but I hear it all the time in Brooklyn. For everything. Even when it doesn't mean anything about your personal appearance.

Ex:

Boy: "Oh, snap, I just got 3 missed calls from her, swag."

or

Girl 1: "Yeah, then I cussed that teacher out!"

Girl 2: "Swaagg."

or

Man On Street This Morning: "White girl, running through the hood!  SWAG!"

Is there a huge pop culture reference/ phrase I'm missing here? Does "swag" mean, you know, "cool" or "da bomb" (heyy 90s babies) or "the bees knees"  for kids these days?

Had to run and check urbandictionary.com.  (My reference for all the things I'm too old/ whitebread to know about)

And so, My Source of Internet Cool tells me it means:

1. swag:      apperance ,style ,or the way he or she presents them selves.            ex: He got a killa swag.   Mmm  Kay.  Right.  Spelling and syntax errors aside, that's what I thought.  But what about all the other stuff I keep hearing?  Like that dude who called me out while jogging on my workout this morning? Ohhh here we go:      2. SWAG:      A stupid saying that's overused. People (90 per cent are dumb teenagers, 10 per cent are little ass kids trying to be cool) use it for EVERYTHING and also as their facebook name thinking that shit's cute:     ex: 'I just opened a cabinet, SWAG.' 'I just fell down, lol, SWAG.' 'SWAGNIFICENT' '(your name) idontgiveafuq gotsswagg' 'lives in swagtown' 'works at swagville'** 'That show was so SWAG.' 'I just finished brushing my teeth, SWAG.' 'Hey guys, just woke up, SWAG.'  **Sidebar: Where is Swagville? ....I want to work at Swagville. I think I like the one the best where the person gives themselves big ups/ swag just for waking up in the morning. SWAG! I do that too! Anyway, this post is about nothing, really, except the fact that I love funny words, and you know, I'm not a kid anymore. So, not only am I not up on the crazy new-ish slang, I'm also doing grown up things like applying for food stamps, individual health insurance, and budgeting my money. SWAG! Haha it's addictive!  I'm gonna say it all the time now!! Swaggy swagswagswag. Annnd now I see why definition # 4 on urbandictionary is: 4. SWAG:     S- Something     W - We     A - All     G- Get tired of hearing   ex:  Teacher: What is the square root of 69?         Dude: SWAG!         Teacher: SHUT THE F*** UP! Hahahaha.   That's all for now, I think.  Going to see "The Avengers" tonight with a sexy Palestinian actor that I met in the Hamptons (while working on the set of Royal Pains). SWAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Brains, Brooklyn, and Babies: Day Dos

Brooklyn is love.

That's the thought that always occurs to me when I crest Eastern Parkway this morning.  The trees arching up over the stones, the sun shines a golden hue...I help a Mom carry her stroller down the subway steps at Nostrand Ave, and her son, inside the stroller, giggles at up at me and says, "Amor, amor!"

I live in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.  I'm an actress and a singer, sometime saxophonist/guitarist, and Mexican Street Slanger.  I work as a receptionist, Spanish tutor, and babysitter to make ends meet.   

And I'm not talking for a month.

Why am I writing this blog?  So that I don't end up drivin' me nuts! (as the pirate said about the steering wheel in his pants).

Seriously.  I started losing my voice..ALL THE TIME.  It hurts to talk.  All the time.  And I feel CRAZY in my brain, trying to FIGURE IT OUT. All. The. Time.

My brain works FAR too hard, (all the time), and I figure if I could get some of it out on paper, maybe it will ease some of the crazy carnival in there.    *Cue clown car/ jalopy theme music.*

Scumbag Brain is allllways workin'.

 When I first moved to Brooklyn about 5 years ago, I periodically lost my voice.  But I figured it only added to my "sexy jazz voice" sound (hey, it worked for Adele and Joss Stone!).

And then, a few months ago, I started to lose the ability to speak in certain ranges.  Completely.  Like, I would go to squeal with surprise or delight, and no noise would come out. Scary.  But- not enough to make me seek help. I figured I could do it on my own.  Plus, I was broke and scared- I knew surgery was the usual treatment for vocal nodes, and I couldn't afford that with no insurance.

So, I tried to stop drinking and yelling in Brooklyn, which I deemed to be the biggest cause of my troubles/ vocal loss.  And I DID stop....for mayyybe two weeks at a time. But then, my voice would return a little bit, and I'd celebrate!  By going out to happy hour!!  Duh, I deserved it for not drinking for so long, right?  My voice was back!  Heeeyyyy Brooklyn.... Time to PARRRRRTAYYY!!

Damn you, Jack Daniels! I don't know how to quit you...

Except then I would lose my voice...again.    For someone who makes a living expressing themselves vocally, this was EXTREMELY frustrating.  Okay, okay, I was crying in the shower.  I was still going to auditions, but being so hoarse my voice would stop working- while doing Shakespeare.  Never mind singing. I wouldn't even bother submitting for those auditions.

 In fact, I was supposed to go to an audition in Philadelphia this past Monday- a paid Equity gig that I was lucky (as a non-union actor) to get an audition for.  I took the day off work.  I had my bus ticket booked.  But something just... sortof...broke, inside me.  Maybe that was my chance for paid work, maybe I would have booked it, got my Equity card.  Maybe not.  But either way- I couldn't speak. I sounded like an old lady- after smoking 3 packs a day... for 40 years. 

What my voice sounded like.

So I didn't go to Philly.

Instead, I went to my former voice teacher, Andrea Haring, (a certified Linklater instructor), to beg for help.  I was miserable.  (This was a crying-in-the-shower morning.)  I could barely talk.  It was raining.  And Andrea told me I had probably had polyps.

Basically, polyps are swollen masses that occur on your vocal chords from overuse.  They prevent your vocal chords from closing all the way.  When you speak normally, your vocals chords must come together..kinda like two sails, flapping together in the wind.  The breath moving through these two chords as they come together creates a vibration.  This vibration is called "sound".  When a polyp forms, the vocal chords are unable to come together to vibrate normally, and the breath can't get through to make sound.  This is what was happening to me.

Polyps look like this, typically (Look away if easily grossed out, kids.):

Ew! Those white strips are the vocal chords, and that red bump is a polyp.

 

 (If you're really curious, and wanna see more gross pictures of the vocal chords with polyps, check here: http://www.voicemedicine.com/polyp.htm)

 Of course, Andrea is not an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor, or Otolaryngologist).  I have to admit, I'm still too broke, and chicken to go to one of those (and to have pitcures taken of my chords, specifically, and be diagnosed by a doctor).  But Andrea's been teaching Linklater Technique for many years, and she knows my voice voice...really well.

The good news is:  polyps can heal without surgery!  But you need to take time, dedication, and REST.

What's that word?  I'm not familiar.  Rest, you say? 

So I'm on vocal rest for a month.  This is part of a treatment program, where hopefully I will NOT have to get surgery.

Annnnd it's Day 2 of No Talking.

Okay, full disclosure: I'm still talking, a little.  I don't pick up my cell phone, but I answer the phones at work, and say what I need to say to people to, you know, buy mangos.  It's tough to judge what is vital to say, and what isn't.  But it's kindof amazing how much you use your voice on a typical day. And hot DAMN do I still want to talk to people allllll the time!

I've cut out caffeine and alcohol (cofeeeeee I miss youuuuu).  And I'm doing vocal exercises that a friend who suffered nodes (Pearl Thomas, you are a Godsend) was wonderful enough to teach me.  She healed herself, without surgery, which gives me hope that I can do the same.  And I'm carrying around a little notebook filled with Post-its, and try to scribble down my thoughts to communicate with people.

So yeah. It's hard.

BUTT (ha!), coming back to Crown Heights, Brooklyn...where I started the sunny morning today.  My neighborhood is a place filled with friends, booze, bagels, sunlight, Jamaicans, Jews, Young "Artsy" Gentrifiers, yoga mats, rats, funny smells, trees, graffiti, trash, and murals... and giggling babies who remind you to Love.

And, as I realized this morning, living in Brooklyn is NOT the cause of my vocal problems.  My overactive brain, triple-booked schedule, and maybe my need to be seen as a party person, are the root of all this nonsense.

Brooklyn, on the other hand, is a place to rest, and to love your life.  And to make space, and time for whatever comes next.

Biggie got it right.