Reading

I forgot how awesome it was.

Currently working through Crime & Punishment (thanks to Steven Gaultney) and Inferno, by Eileen Myles (gifted to me by Swan.) The one is a dark Russian tale of madness and anxiety, the other a meditation on being broke, queer, and a poet. Maybe not so different?

Other Things I Accomplished Today:
1) Dodged a giant bee
2) Went to Target and bought a pillow
3) Managed to eat lunch for several hours with fellow playwrights Sam Hunter & Michael Yates Crowley
4) Managed to eat dinner for several hours with the same crew. (Avec newly arrived dramaturg, Alex Barron.)
5) Dodged a lot of mosquitos.

It’s a crazy life up here in Waterford, CT.

Sea Porch

Having seen Katie & Brian married off to each other and made honest (or as honest as they’re getting), I’m back at the O’Neill answering emails on the Sea Porch. From now on, I will refuse to answer any emails UNLESS I’m on a sea porch. This is what I want you to imagine, when you think of me on a Sea Porch: url

O’Neill NPC Day 1

The resident playwrights just got a tour of the Monte Cristo cottages, O’Neill’s former childhood home. Some pertinent details: 1) he liked fog, 2) all his sons killed themselves eventually, 3) he got 4 Pulitzers and 1 Nobel. Trade-off?

I looked really hard for a picture of him smiling. This is the closest I got:

DOMA:

Take THAT.
Edward Gorey is delighted to provide a visual aid of the 5-4 decision: Picture 1
Future FEDERALLY RECOGNIZED Wives of Jen Silverman (A Sampler):
1. Michelle Obama
2. Sarah Kane (Except She’s Dead But If She Weren’t)
3. Sarah Palin (Methinks the lady doth protest way too much. She’d marry the hell out of me. She’d marry me like a warrior hunting moose in the tundra. She’d marry me so hard I’d end up dead.)
4. Wendy Davis (No explanation needed.)
5. Jenny Shimizu (She can fix a motorcycle with one hand. Don’t tell me that’s not marriage material.)

Jen’s Future Wives Club aside, now shit like this can happen. And it’s awesome.

My Friend Who Works As A Nanny For A Baby And Part-Times As A Young Female William Carlos Williams

S: Poop-machine is asleep. Today is summer solstice. I am 30 1/2. Did I mention there’s a dying dog here?

me: That is probably the most poetic text I have ever received.


[*Note: for those who may be concerned about the dog, it is dying insofar as we are all dying slowly, second by second. Reports have it that the aforementioned dog is a million years old and currently curled up on the couch, where it continues to have dreams that it is digging.]