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

Color Therapy (?)

May 13th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

My shirt is yellow, THEREFORE,  I will have a good day and a positive outlook and my dreams will come true and the worst case scenarios will only play out in my mind and fertile unicorns will shit rainbows of optimism and fresh babies on my head (?)/ GOOD THING I AM NOT WEARING BLACK (?)

Posted in a lot, optimism, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the worst, what i am NOT wearing, what I'm wearing, whining | No Comments »

Path to Healing

May 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I can’t meditate for more than 3 minutes without getting distracted, and the few times I’ve done acupuncture I’ve just laid there watching the clock and wondering things like ‘Am I healing? Is it happening? What’re we doing right now?’  and last night after my D&C I had an entire bag of Haribo gummies and ice cream for dinner.  I am no Earth Mother or Mother of the Earth, I am not Zen or Chill, but RIGHT NOW I WILL USE THE WORDS ‘PATH TO HEALING,’ and boldly declare that going wide with our fertility struggles has comforted me beyond my greatest expectations. Last night, Haribo gummy cherries hanging out of my mouth, I read hundreds of messages received from friends and strangers, bold and honest messages about fertility struggles and successes. AND IT HAS GIVEN ME LIFE. Thank you to all who share and continue to share. Here was mine:

Last weekend, we had our second miscarriage. I know I’m supposed to tuck this away, share with just close family and friends, compartmentalize and get back to work, which I’ve done before. But this time, I’m sharing here to challenge any and all notions that getting pregnant is CHARMING AND ADORABLE AND JOYFUL AND WHIMSICAL, and only these. For us, and for so many other women and couples, it has been a nightmare. It’s long and stressful and expensive and painful and terrifying. I’ve met parts of myself I never knew, gross bits of rage and frustration and jealousy and sadness. My hope and faith have withered. But I’ve also been so moved by the women who have opened up to me about the absurdity and sometimes hilarity of their own losses and journeys. And I want to do anything I can to help remove any of guilt and shame that comes with this horrible yet INCREDIBLY REGULAR thing / 20 PERCENT OF PREGNANCIES END IN MISCARRIAGE / GRIEVING PEOPLE ARE ALL AROUND YOU / HI, I AM ONE OF THEM. I also share this here because I’m longing for any personal stories, things like I had five miscarriages and now my toddler keeps grabbing my phone out of my hand! And / or my uterus is made of construction paper and now it’s full of twins! Or even, I am going through this fucking bullshit too, would you like to get together and throw bottles of wine against a wall? Feel free to DM me. I’m grateful for anything anyone feels like sharing, but mostly grateful for Morrison, who is the most completely amazing partner that has ever lived.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, babies, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the whole world, the worst, wanting, what my friends are doing, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

the rewrite

April 15th, 2017 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m in the middle of re-working a movie I wrote a few years ago. Rewriting pulls out the lose threads of my brain and makes everything, my Face, my Self, the World, feel unstable and wrong. WERE I TO SELECT AN IMAGE, IT IN FACT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THIS:

Imagine each piece of yarn is either a character or moment or my own self-loathing and doubt or a TIGHT FRENCH BRAID OF ALL OF IT. The goal, of course, after a certain amount of wading through and tripping over and choking on the mess, is this:

And then naturally, this.

Posted in a lot, silly, sucking, tout, trying too hard, whining, words, YAY | No Comments »

protocol (?)

November 10th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter

When you are a lady playwright raised to please and to apologize, and you get a series of bad reviews written  by OTHER lady writers who write directly and bravely and without apology because they were perhaps raised THAT way, THE PROPER RESPONSE IS TO EMAIL THE REVIEWERS AND DEEPLY APOLOGIZE AT LENGTH FOR RUINING THEIR EVENINGS AND WASTING THEIR TIME AND GO INTO GREAT DETAIL ABOUT YOUR SHAME AND EMBARRASSMENT AND THEN MAYBE ALSO FIND A WAY TO SEND THEM BAKED GOODS?  THIS IS RIGHT, RIGHT?

Posted in a lot, silly, sucking, the writing of drama plays, tout, trying too hard, whining, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

my heart hurts

April 23rd, 2009 by Bekah Brunstetter

Has anyone been on the train with this one homeless woman  – she pretty much never has shoes, has a slight speech impediment – and ‘doesn’t want something for nothing’ as she puts it – she’s not begging, no sir – she sings for her supper. But she only knows one song, ‘Have yourself a Merry little Christmas’ and she moves down the train, literally singing it to each person on the train, one by one, the sincerest thing you ever did see. Last night I saw a girl slip her a twenty and I nearly cried. This reminds me of the time that my Mom came to visit and there was a particularly awful seeming homeless woman on the corner on 17th and 5th (kind of an odd corner for one) and my Mom wanted to call the cops and she wouldn’t leave the woman until she felt like she was okay. And I also think it’s terrible that men feel so in despair re: money and re: life that they must kill their whole families and also themselves. And then just now, I googled water-boarding because I never QUITE understood it exactly, and now I wish I hadn’t.

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my favorite game

March 6th, 2009 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Favorite.

Posted in awesome, sucking, women | No Comments »

Rarrr!

September 2nd, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

 dsc01184.JPGBecause I am completely Looney Tunes, I found myself stressed out that I had three days off, and wanted to fill it with the most perfect and productive activities. So I went to a metal show.    dsc01188.JPG    RARR!!  Yeah,  I did that. Liberated, I felt, pushed  around at the edges of the Mosh Pit. Judged, I was, in my ‘corporate American Apparel loser clothes’ (Steve heard someone say this. Right on.)I thought: this is amazing. Then some threw their Beer in my face. So I went home. I guess I’m not hardcore enough – but it’s super fun to pretend.  

Posted in music, sucking, what I'm wearing, what my friends are doing | No Comments »

Real Estate

April 20th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I was assigned a task this weekend that at first I found to be daunting, but ended up ultimately being extremely therapeutic.

Working Man’s was, at the very last minute, given a week at the Ohio Theater – we frantically filled it with shows – I’m working on monologues to go in between the one acts, in an evening entitled ‘New York in Dead.’

Given my recent frustrations with my jobthing, I decided to make fun of real estate. With no further doo doo, the thing that I just wrote:

A Jumpy, desperate real estate agent is on his cell. He enters quickly, frantically.

(on phone)

It’s a very hot address. Very hot. Brick fire place, granite in the half kitchen. You get trannie trash from the Path but it’s like a two minute walk from the west side high way.

(He motions to us to hold on.)

Yeah, the water. Statue of fucking Liberty, Swear to God. The river. No, you can’t swim in it.

(He motions to us that the person on the phone is a douchebag.)

It was Scarlett Johannassen’s first apartment. For real. Swear to God. No, it’s a true one bed. Okay so the previous tenant erected a divider wall but in terms of square footage – 5,000. Dollars. A month. 4800 hundred, roof top access, a view of the park, luxury amenities, et cetera, etc cetera, no no no wait – 46. 46. I can’t go any lower, I – hello?

(The person has hung up.)

Hello?

(He hangs up. To us)

Sorry to have kept you waiting. Douchebags move here from nowhere Wisconsin and think they can get a true one bed from less than five. I can tell you’re not a douche bag, though, you know what you want. You know what you need, you know what it takes, I take fifteen percent.

Here we are, Soho, you can’t beat that. This place sells itself, really, you don’t need me, just listen to the space, it’s talking to you, what do you think? It’s currently owned by some Hippie indie theater company but as the world goes, as things happen, they’re loosing their lease. I think it’d be better as your Home or a Banana Republic.

High ceilings – put up a few partitions, you’ve got a living, a dining, an office, a room for your whole goddamn dog, I would kill to live here, like I would literally – Whoopi Goldberg lives upstairs, swear to God. She leaves once a day to go to Balthazar, do you have kids? They could go right over there.

So Where’re you living now? Don’t tell me, Inwood, don’t tell me, I see your shoes, you live in Cobble Hill, no, you just moved here, you Dad pays your rent. I don’t judge. Your first Manhattan apartment is a delicate choice, it’s like picking a lover. I’d choose carefully if I were you, and by carefully, I mean live here, Goddamnit, look at this place, I would kill, I would literally kill – these floors are an artifact, General Robert E. Lee stood here once, Swear to God.

So what do you think? I say picture it. You go out, you’re out, you get drunk, it’s been a long day. You’re at Mercer kitchen, you’re watching Russell Crow throw his blackberry at a waiter, you’re having an appetizer, you meet someone. This person is hot, this person is lonely, you’re lonely, you want to take this person home with you to exercise your right to do it. So do it. And where do you take them? Right down the freaking street. Right here. Like yeah, I live here, where do you live? Now kiss me til I forget myself.

(His phone rings. He answers.)

Yeah. I’m in Soho. I can be uptown in ten. It’s been gutted but it’s a hot address, HOT. You need – yeah, I know what you need. I’ll be right there.

(He hangs up.)

So what do you think? I gotta tell you, I gotta know by today, I gotta, I’m showing it, there are others, everyone wants it, everyone, you’re blind if you don’t see – look at the ceilings, look at the goddamn height – you need this place. It needs to you fill it. You’ve got til the end of today.

(His phone rings. He answers.)

Yeah.

(He goes.)

Posted in sucking, the writing of drama plays, where i want to live, whining, working, worrying | No Comments »

Next time at the Guggenheim

March 2nd, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Gah. What is this artist SAYING? I just don’t GET it.

Yeah, I go to museums sometimes. What if I do.

*Note* – the following pictures are NOT from the Guggenheim. Next time at the Guggenheim just happens to be a group of words that are pretty grand to say. They are from MOMA, which is an equally cool response to the question ‘What did you do this weekend?’ (But: *subnote* – say the word ‘MOMA’ flippantly, as if you went to the laundromat, as to not draw TOO much attention to how stinking cultured you are – or how much you are trying to be.)

*NoteNote* – I did not go to MOMA this weekend. I cannot tell a lie. (It was a few weekends ago.)

*NoteNoteNote* – Bekah DOES not perceive herself to be a connasieur of art. She cannot even spell connasieur. She remains a douchebag person who says things like Hey, isn’t that a Pollock? and not much else. Though she would love to be the kind of person who can wander into a museum and say hey, omg, it’s a ‘obscurefrenchminimalistfromNaziRomania,’ and be totally right, she is Not this person. But, nonetheless, she enjoys museums, though she cannot seem to retain any factual information about movements, artists, etc. Instead, she enjoys the wandering, the quiet perusing; the sticking of one’s face dangerously close to the thing to see how it looks. Up close. She enjoys the painful details.

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A person who considers Himself to be a work of Art, boots and All,  considers the Work of Art.

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And finally, some corn next to a violin.

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Because life is meaningless, or something.

Posted in arrogant art things, horn tooting, sucking | No Comments »

And the Bekah said

February 23rd, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

 ….It was good.

I approve of these things:

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A new rock musical, or rather, a play with words. It’s really awesome to see these new sorts of musicals  (extremely non-traditional with amazing music; like a gd truth party) succeeding on Broadway. So good. All based on the life/music of this dude ‘Stew,’ just Stew – Passing Strange is sort of a coming of age story that parodies fun things like black people pretending to be blacker than they are. It also delightfully pokes fun at German people, and has a lot to say about artists preferring art to life. That sounds gay. What I mean is – there was some line that I found to be truthful something like – art is better than life. Made me understand where I possibly get my uber unrealistic life expectations.

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I. Love. This. Movie.

Okay?

Okay.

It’s funny, and re-imagined bible stories make me happy.

Finally, I calleth this last  item NOT good:

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The Emperor’s New Clothes movie of 2007. To hip for its own good. To sassy to stomach. So much no, the story goes to crap. I think I’m involved in some sort of self-loathing with my dislike of this movie, but so be it.

I like You, though. I definitely like You.

Posted in le film, music, sucking, the writing of drama plays, theater | No Comments »

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