Open Studio Sunday at LMCC finds me making the best possible use of my time. In between fielding questions from people wandering in and out of my studio (“Do you write plays? Why do you write plays?”), I’m continuing my ongoing investigation with a frequent collaborator re: the perfect title for our play.
Sometimes your driver’s license mysteriously vanishes, and you can only imagine that it is at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, or buried in the sands of SF’s nudist septagenarian biker beach. And then you must approach TSA somewhat in the manner that a lost explorer might approach a pride of giant bear-lions. First use your charm, then use THE POWERS OF DISTRACTION.
me: they’re letting me on the plane anyway?
A: HOW IS THAT?
me: i just started flinging fistfuls of IDs at them
(Juilliard, credit card, metrocard)
like, ID after ID,
then random pieces of paper
receipts, grocery lists, love letters
and they were at first utterly unimpressed
but then they were flattened into submission.
A: I have no words.
me: I am a disaster.
And now I am boarding my plane.
Swan: When God closes one door, he opens the cat door, which is hidden and hard to find at first.
Aunt Jeff: Point is, if you’re going to be in a disastrous scenario
it’s best to be the one causing the disaster.
At least that way you make the headlines.
Also, I am fully supportive of whatever you end up doing.
me: do you think she’d like a puppy for her birthday?
maybe mom wants a birthday tattoo
we can go to a tattoo parlor and then Hooters
My brother: The puppy is a fantastic idea. It’s been almost thirty years so she’s probably totally ready to go back to the days when her life was consumed by something that needs constant attention, gives her nightmares, and shits all the time.
me: oh good that’s exactly what i was thinking
tattoo parlor, puppy mill, and THEN Hooters
My brother: Better add another puppy.
And maybe an ocelot.
Aunt Jeff: And darling, anytime you think
it can’t get messier