bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY
playwright in brooklyn, NY

My Guided Tour.

February 26th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I am loving Bro time with Dan, who is an excellent tour guide, who walks just as fast as me, if not faster. And To my JOY AND DELIGHT, it turns out that he is a most suitable museum guide, too. Not only did he slay a few semesters of Art History in college, so he actually knows things, his commentary is on point. He took me through the Prado today, which is elegantly crammed full of Spanish, German, French, and English art spanning centuries, El Greco and Rembrandt and Zurburan, Enfentas y Kings. Some favorite guidance from my tour guide:

All these girls have their cans out.

There’s a hermaphrodite. It’s a girl with a dick.

When I noted that a certain statue was missing a certain appendage: The dicks always fall off. I bet you can’t find one dick in here.

….I in fact could barely find any dicks.

Posted in a lot, awesome, brothers, vacay's | No Comments »

no habla any español at all

February 25th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I made it to Sppppainnnn! It’s beautiful. I love Europe. I love its streets. I’ve been here a few hours and so far there have been approximately nine thousand times in which I really, really wished I spoke Spanish. I should really, really be able to speak Spanish, and am very much regretting that time I decided that Latin would be more valuable for the SAT, and then just ended up spending four years in a classroom while a very large man shouted at us about various mythic wars. (I learned no Latin.)

It began before I even technically entered the country, whilst deplaning, when I accidentally touched an old Spanish man’s butt.

Me: Mi Scusi.

Man (irked) Que?

Me: Uh sorry. That’s Italian. Sorry. Pardon? That’s French. I AM SO VERY SORRY.

Man: (unitelligible, walking away)

Moreso than any country I’ve ever been to, Spainards, so far, will just — not speak to you in English. Like at all. You are left floundering, gesturing, While they watch you try, staring at you like, I’ll just wait while you get with the program. Also you should probably find yourself a cool scarf because I pretty much don’t want to talk to you unless you’re wearing one. It’s not arrogance, though, it’s — assuredness? Reminds me of Icelanders. We are better than you, but we’re gonna like, play it cool, and not make a big deal about it, while you catch up. Just — take your time. We’ll wait.

Posted in a lot, awesome, vacay's | No Comments »

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle

February 24th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m finding that now I’m finally doing things I shoulda coulda done when I actually lived in NYC, but never did. Took my sister Carrie to see Carmen at the Met — my very first opera. It was stunning, long, beautiful, opulent, boasted a chorus of 30 kids for no reason, sung in French which meant that every now and then, I did not not have to follow the text box, mostly when they were just singing, C’EST MOIIIII!!!!!!

Best part: Habenera, or L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” (“Love is a rebellious bird”,) the one song from an Opera that everyone knows, google it, you know it, bah bah bah BAH!, an abrupt and beautiful and declarative song, song by Carmen herself at the top of the show. You get her INSTANTLY.

When will I love you?
Good Lord, I don’t know,
Maybe never, maybe tomorrow.
But not today, that’s for sure.

Love is a rebellious bird
That none can tame,
And it is well in vain that one calls it
If it suits him to refuse
Nothing to be done, threat or prayer.
The one talks well, the other is silent;
And it’s the other that I prefer
He says nothing but he pleases me.

(Love is a rebellious bird) Love…
(that none can tame,) Love…
(and you can call him, although it is, quite in vain,) Love…
(because it suits him not to come) Love…

Love is a gypsy’s child,
It has never, never known the law;
If you do not love me, I love you;
If I love you, take guard yourself (Take guard yourself!)
If you do not love me,
If you do not love me, I love you (Take guard yourself!)
But if I love you, if I love you
Take guard yourself!

(Love is a gypsy’s child,)
(It has never, never known the law;)
(If you do not love me, I love you;)
(If I love you, take guard yourself) (Take guard yourself!)

If you do not love me,
If you do not love me, I love you (Take guard yourself!)
But if I love you, if I love you
Take guard yourself!(Take guard yourself!)

The bird you hoped to catch
Beat its wings and flew away …
Love is far, you can wait for it
You no longer await it, there it is
All around you, swift, swift,
It comes, goes, then it returns …
You think to hold it fast, it flees you
You think to flee it, it holds you

(All around you, swift,) Love…
(It comes, goes, then it returns) Love…
(You think to hold it fast, it flees you) Love…
(You think to flee it, it holds you) Love…

Love is a gypsy’s child,
it has never, never known the law;
if you love me not, then I love you;
if I love you, take guard yourself (Take guard yourself!)
if you love me not,
if you love me not, then I love you (Take guard yourself!)
but if I love you, if I love you
take guard yourself!

(Love is a gypsy’s child,)
(it has never known the law;)
(if you love me not, then I love you;)
(if I love you, take guard yourself) (Take guard yourself!)

if you love me not,
if you love me not, then I love you (Take guard yourself!)
but if I love you, if I love you
take guard yourself (Take guard yourself)

Posted in how interesting, i am lucky | No Comments »

self portrait

February 23rd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Posted in whining | No Comments »

GLAMOUR.

February 22nd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

On this Oscar day of glamour and glitz and gold and plunging necklines and bow ties and spanx, I am treating myself to CAB RIDES from Brooklyn to rehearsal, something I never would have ever  done when I lived here, but hey, now I’m a real girl, a glamorous one, and also don’t want to slip and die on the sidewalk. Yes I DID take this picture myself, which went something like this:

CAB DRIVER: WHAT ARE YOU TAKE PICTURE OF?

ME (deeply ashamed):….myself.

CAB DRIVER: WHY FOR?

ME:….my blog.

Silence. Then:

CAB DRIVER: ….Are you famous?

ME:….No.

More Silence; Even more Glamour.

Posted in awesome, famous people stuff | No Comments »

BACK.

February 21st, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

So stoked to be back at the Atlantic Theater Company SIX YEARS (THAT’S RIGHT, COUNT ‘EM) After Oohrah!, In these halls, we taught a twelve year old girl to shoot a rifle, Tim flew up rom NC to teach us about Marine-ing, I ate all of the chips, I ran back and forth from my day job, we made a play. Miraculously they asked me back. TIME TO MAKE ANOTHER!

Posted in a lot, memories, the writing of drama plays | No Comments »

throwback

February 20th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Found this drawing I did of Blaine and Cott and I,  on our 2004 Dirty South road trip* down to South Carolina and Georgia, in which we all look like extras from Empire Records. Here’s to middle parts and lump skirts and Carrie’s aspirational boobs! ENJOY!

* (NOT to be confused with the 2002 road trip in which we drove across the country and back only almost got arrested ONCE.)

Posted in life, love, memories, what my friends are doing, women | No Comments »

Dear Coats:

February 20th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Dear All of the Winter Coats I accumulated during my nine years in New York from various goodwills and Filene’s Basements, I remember each of you now, your weird stains, your thick arms, your furry hoods, your sailor buttons, but I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHERE YOU ARE AND I’M BUMMED THAT I SOMEHOW LOST YOU AND OR GAVE YOU AWAY, as I fly tonight straight into a 10 degree NYC.  My stupid 30 dollar LA ‘cold’ Forever 21 coat just burst into TEARS. I AM ALREADY COLD!

Posted in a lot, vacay's, whining | No Comments »

strange fantasy

February 19th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Someday, even if just for a minute, I would like to JUST be a mom, and have my most challenging task for the day be to figure out how to turn cheese into cute edible pencils. And I guess also, hound Her to practice her violin and hound Him to write thank you notes and I guess also, worry about their forming moral codes, and whether or not they’re getting hit by cars.

Posted in a lot, worrying | No Comments »

This one’s for my Dad

February 18th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

An Oscar Meyer weinermobile crashed into a snowbank in Pennsylvania, and Dads across American PUNNED UNTIL THEY COULD NO LONGER BREATHE. I will now take a few moments to join in on the fun.

- Oh look! a CHILLYDOG!

- To be Frank, I’m concerned about the driving conditions on this road….

- ‘DOGGONE-IT!’ – The driver

And lastly, this quote from the tow trucker driver who rescued the dog: “I’ve pulled out a lot of vehicles,” he said. “But that’s the first wiener I’ve ever pulled out.”

TAKE IT AWAY, DAD!

Posted in a lot, awesome, family, ha | No Comments »

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