…but at least
there are still
LOBSTER ROLLS!!!! Also the world might be ending. We saw the prophesy written in the night sky.
Then we came back to New York. And the world was still here. For now.
Eat dessert first, yall.
Just in case.
Monthly Archives: September 2013
How It Happens
Sometimes it happens that you jump in a car heading North.
And then you get out of the car.
And bam! you’re in Maine.
And it’s very far away from where you were.
And that feels great.
And the sky is so blue and the lighthouse is so lighthousey that everybody wants to be there. Including people from even farther away. And also, the mailman.
But it’s OK, because if you were to wonder where your mail was, and if you needed to wait outside the post office for the mailman to return from the lighthouse, you could always sit on the stylish pink chairs and think about how Winslow Homer painted this landscape. And so did Andrew Wyeth.
Confessions From The Financial District
It’s 9 pm on a Saturday night and I’m in the utterly empty floor of the financial district building in which my studio is located. Outside, the city is all small lights and faint sirens. Inside, I’ve scrawled all over the whiteboard walls with different colored markers. Given the fact that this entire floor is mine (due to the fact that EVERYBODY ELSE in this city has an oh-my-god-so-fun-and-glamorous life, and I clearly do not), I’m playing music and singing at the top of my lungs. Why go to the club when you can bring the club to you?
In Which Bukowski And I Have A Vigorous Debate
Bukowski: no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.
Jen: OH YEAH, CHARLES? Well, I just got the keys to my LMCC studio and I’m gonna spend nine months CREATING THE SHIT OUT OF THIS SHIT with my fuckin AIR SPACE TIME LIGHT. So take that.
Bukowski: Why do I even care what you think? I’m famous. And dead.
Jen: You ain’t lyin.
Just A Lady And Her….Parts
me: THE most unfriendly woman in the world just shoved me onto a scale & then took my blood pres.
i said, “wait, but i’m here for a gynecological exam.”
said she: “what’s that? lady-parts?”
I AM GONNA DIE AND BE FOUND IN A GUTTER. WTF IS THIS PLACE.
…
now she is laughing manically in the next room. deep manic chuckles.
they prob just dismembered someone and are selling her lady-parts on e-bay.
S: glad you’re still alive!
me: i hate everything. i wanna be a ken doll.
S: go get a massage.
Two Playwrights Walk Into A ___
Humans of New York
“If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?”
“Try your best to deal with life without medicating yourself.”
“You mean drugs?”
“I mean drugs, food, shopping, money, whatever. I ain’t judging anybody, either. I was hooked on heroin for years. But now I’ve learned that every feeling will pass if you give it time. And if you learn to deal with your feelings, they’ll pass by faster each time. So don’t rush to cover them up, or you’re never gonna learn.”
From: Humans of New York
In Which I Have Many New Ideas And Share Them With My More Gainfully Employed Friends
me: hey also i think we should start a reality tv webseries called Queers In Tears
where we just talk about our lives & cry
maybe Queers With Fears?
Queers In Tears While Carrying Spears
what do you think?
S: my job is impeding my social life
Eternal Playwright Question
One Way of Doing Battle
…is this way.
An excerpt:
…
I burnt the ship to make the sword. I burnt
the sail to send the dead.
That was one way of doing battle.
Do you think I spent all this time with the hammer
just to drink at the well?
No.
I want to hold the neck of this flower until its
animal comes out.
…
[Lisa Ciccarello]