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

how to say

April 21st, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m not going to go on my exotic cultural exchange trips to exotic and rugged foreign lands like the US state of Hawaii and NOT share my anthropological findings with you. And so, here you go:

The instrument above is NOT pronounced YOU-KOO-LAY-LEE.

It is pronounced. OOO-KOO-LAY-LAY.

I learned this from a trusted native I encountered, by which I mean a guidebook I purchased from Amazon, so it must be true. Okay students, go forth and spread truth. CORRECT EVERY PERSON WHO SAYS IT WRONG. CORRECT THEM ARROGANTLY.

Posted in a lot, the whole world, vacay's, wanting, YAY | No Comments »

eye contact, and how to make it

April 20th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Lately, when having a conversation with a person, I find that I don’t really know where to look. I catch myself looking too deep into their eyes, and then I feel weird about it, so I move my focus to the space between them. Where do you look at someone when you’re looking at them in the eyes? ‘The eyes’ is sort of a vast space. Do you look around the eyes, or inside of them? When you look at someone really, actually in the eyes, you can spiral down to a space where you can’t really even hear them anymore. You can get lost there. CAN WE ALL JUST AGREE TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER IN THE NOSE INSTEAD?

Posted in a lot, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am a grown up | No Comments »

Imperfect Produce

April 19th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

There’s a new startup — Imperfect Produce — that will send you boxes of imperfect produce that normally gets thrown away, all for half the price of what you would pay for flawless fruits and vegetables at the grocery store. I can reflect on this whole idea for less than ten seconds and still be Moved. What kind of world would this be if we threw away our imperfect humans? Aren’t we ALL a little bit imperfect produce? DON’T WE ALL DESERVE TO BE IN A SALAD OR LEAST A FEW DAYS OF LIFE AS DECORATION IN A WOODEN COUNTERTOP BOWL WHILE WE ROT?

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a QUIET place

April 18th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Dear people behind me eating popcorn SO LOUDLY during A Quiet Place:

IT’S A QUIET MOVIE. IT IS LITERALLY CALLED A QUIET PLACE. YOU ARE SUMMONING THE SOUND MONSTER WITH YOUR GROSS MOUTH AND I’M ALREADY SO SCARED AND OH GOD WHY DID I COME SEE THIS BEAUTIFUL MOVIE ALONE ALSO CAN I PLZ HAVE SOME POPCORN

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MY-OTES

April 17th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

The older you get, the harder it is to make new friends, but yesterday, I FOUND TWO:

They’ve got this sort of rustic chic thing going on and NOT that I choose friends based on their blogability but LOOK HOW CUTE.

They just kind of invited themselves over, and while at first it seemed rude,  they then moved a giant bag of potting soil from one part of the yard to the other for me, and ripped it open and threw it around a little bit JUST to make sure it was like, SAFE potting soil, and if that’s not friendship, I truly do not know what it is. WELCOME TO THE CIRCLE, COYOTES. SEE YOU AT BOOK CLUB / DRINKS.

Posted in i am scared, what my friends are doing, where i want to live, YAY | No Comments »

chill hat

April 16th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Please note that going forward, this hat that I lifted* from an abandoned gift shop of an abandoned western themed amusement shop outside Maggie Valley, NC is my new disguise / go-to / indicator that I’m chilling, angry, sick, happy, being, or basically just alive, by which I mean, I’m going to allow this thing to fuse and crust to my head to the point where it must be surgically removed, which would be NOT chill, so let’s just agree to leave it there.

*I mean I asked the new owner if I could have it and he said sure, but let’s just pretend I lifted it, to help craft an image of a tough exterior so that I might justify the wearing of a trucker fat with a fish on it.

Posted in ....ew, a lot, vintage, wanting, what I'm wearing, where i want to live, YAY | No Comments »

I JUST CANNOT WITH CANTON

April 15th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

About a year and a half ago, friend Erin moved from Queens back down to North Carolina, in search of a more sustainable creative life. She’s from Yadkinville, near where I’m from, but she chose to hunker down in the NC Mountains, which is basically the world’s largest antique store, but all outside, and it also sells Mountains and Sunsets and airbrushed T shirts. Yesterday, she showed me the nearby town of Canton, which she’d fallen in love with, and NOW ME TOO.  Erin had become fascinated by it but had yet to find anyone who saw it like she did, and as she drove us through, I LEPT OUT OF MYSELF. It’s not even that it’s a charming small town. It’s such an odd combination of things, at once in various stages rebirth and decay. It looks like the inside of my head when I used to write stories in college about buses who were actually people and the girls who rode them. It’s like a set designer designed all of it except that NO ONE EVER COULD BECAUSE IT’S TOO REAL.

It’s got everything:  a massive and creepy and stunning, post-apaclyptic paper mill THAT SUPPLIES ALL OF THE COUNTRIES MILK CARTONS:

Crumbling brick buildings next to carefully planned spring flowers,

ABANDONED CHRISTIAN ACADEMIES,

ARBRITRARY WHIMSICAL AND CAREFULLY CRAFTED SIGNAGE:

BIBLE THEMED BAKERIES,

But most specially, and most significantly, it’s got me E, who I think just might be the new Heart of the town, if not Mayor, and so I’ll definitely be back.

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Plays everywhere, everywhere

April 14th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Because TV hiatuses are for theater, after Chicago, I hightailed it on down to Waynesville, NC to see my friend Erin in a play (one of my favorite of Sarah Ruhl’s, In the Next Room or the Vibrator Play, in which Erin brilliantly plays a nurse with AHEM SPECIAL SKILLS AHEM.) And so Again, I remind you and myself, theater is not just in NYC and LA, it is EVERYWHERE. People love it everywhere, people make it and see it. Today it’s in this massive and beautiful barn structure tucked in the mountains of Western NC:

Before you step inside to learn about the historical origins of the vibrator and female hysteria, you can first pop into the adjoining bistro for fried green tomatoes or collards or corn bread or wine or crab salad or WHO ASKED YOU, OR? HOW BOUT ALL OF IT.

WHERE IS THE TRAVEL SHOW THAT GOES TO PATRON INDEPENDENT THEATER COMPANIES ALL OVER THE COUNTRY? WHERE IS IT? OBVS IT’S CALLED PLAY BY PLAY AND IM THE HOST

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Chicago Cake!

April 13th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Today, on things that I forgot and then remembered: Chicago theater is incredible, basically everything about it, but namely the actors, who are BARELY ACTING AT ALL, who are present and human and are just happened upon in dramatic moments.  I popped over to see the Cake at Rivendell Theater Company in Edgewater and I am so very glad I did. The entire city is dotted with ballsy and self-sufficient companies, their theaters tucked into the storefronts that used to be restaurants and bars, their warm lobbies decorated however they dang please, LIKE MAYBE WITH CUTE VINTAGE APRONS EVERYWHERE PERHAPS IF THE PLAY IS CAKE-THEMED:

Then the theaters themselves are limitless boxes where the once off-off-off-offoffoffoff OFF broadway playwright can come home again.

All plays should be born in Chicago, get their legs before the get put in bigger, shinier boxes. OH WAIT, THEY KIND OF ALREADY ARE.

 

Posted in a lot, i am lucky, the writing of drama plays, theater, YAY | No Comments »

Baby’s first Colorist

April 12th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Up until yesterday, the only colorist in my life had been Box of Féria from CVS in 1998 (she’s VERY hard to book, book NOW, or maybe just go to CVS?) but then a few weeks ago, I finally realized that it’s not just that all Women in LA just so happen to have bright and shiny hair, the colors of various sands and sunshines and trees, but that they actually all give their life savings to people called Colorists, who are ALSO beautiful people with beautiful hair, who paint your hair like Monet while you sit there patiently like hungry Art. My Colorist, which is how I start sentences now, ‘brightened and Funned me up,’ which for a Colorist, is a verb. I kinda look exactly the same but also I somehow feel more together, more like a woman who drinks green tea when she’s hungry. I was warned I’ll get obsessed, but for now, I think I’ll just enjoy walking around like a person who has a Colorist, saying things like ‘my Colorist has those shoes’ and ‘I’ll stop talking about MY Colorist when you stop talking about yours’ and ‘I don’t care if you’re just my Colorist I also consider you to be one of my best friends’ and ‘WHATEVER, I HAVE TOTALLY NOT BEEN ALL FULL OF MYSELF EVER SINCE I WENT TO THAT COLORIST;’ etc.

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