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

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January 20th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I booked my ticket to go see tiny little baby brother Dan in Madrid next month! He’s studying law there for a semester, and I am going to join him for Paella, wandering, and really bad spanish. When I did my European solo vision quest, at the ripe of age of 22*, I skipped Spain, so I am so stoked that I  finally get to go, and also that I get some sister y brother time with Dan.  Estoy muy emocionado! Me encanta el traductor de google!  Donde seta el pescado?

* THAT WAS TEN YEARS AGO. Had my life taken a different path, I could have, like, A TEN YEAR OLD CHILD right now. What I have instead:

- a very nice set of pastel knives

- a wafflemaker

- nice slippers

- a watering can

- a ticket to Spain

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six years ago, today

December 9th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I was heading into Play Group at Ars Nova when my phone rang and it was my Home and I immediately knew something was wrong. At that point both little brostetters were deployed, and I’d had a couple of strange dreams recently about little brostetter Tim, in particular. Tim and I shared a room growing up, and even then, with him sleeping on the bunk below me, I used to have this recurring dream that he was being chased, or in danger, or that he was missing, have I already shared this? I have probably already shared this. Point being, I weirdly just knew.

Me: Hiwhat’sWrong?

A pause that lasted approximately ninety seven years.

Dad: Tim’s been shot.

Then, a pause that lasted approximately one hundred and ninety seven million years.

Dad: …But he’s going to be okay.


Once assured that he was fine, and was being taken the hospital, and that Dan was flying in from AfghanisDAN and meeting him there, once general fears were allayed, I went into Ars, where I saw my at that point fairly newish friend and other playwright, Dylan, and then I immediately burst into tears and he hugged me, basically cementing our friendship forever.

This is just a tiny, fairly undramatic slice of a memory. No one died, everyone is alive and well. But I will never. Never. Ever ever ever ever forget it, because for the tiniest of seconds, I thought I’d lost Tim, and I will never stop being grateful, every stinking day, that he is still here.

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actual thanks

December 1st, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

To these Marines, pictured here at their Thanksgiving dinner, for protecting our right to stuff ourselves stupid /  buy things /  hang out, and an EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS to little brother Tim’s trash stache. WELL PLAYED, TIMOTE.

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October 24th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Tiny little baby brother Tim is currently stationed in Japan. He is quite bored. I miss him.  As he is 16 hours ahead, finding a time when we can get on the phone has been quite arduous and requires a lot of math. All of this to say, I have invented a new verb which is, of course, FaceTimming, v: when you FaceTime with Tim. There is also, of course, FaceTimmying, which is when you FaceTime with Tim, but he is 8 years old. This is not to be confusing with FaceTimothying, which is when you FaceTime with Tim regarding something official or biblical.

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of note

July 2nd, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Big brother Pete found this letter I wrote to him when he was at Boot Camp: he, 19, me, 17. It is a disturbing / fascinating / amusing insight into my teen brain, and it leaves me with questions and thoughts. Like, in what version of the world did it make sense to call my brother Sexy? Also, how interesting, that even at 17, I was making excuses for my slack on human connection and blaming it on ‘sooooo busy with play.’  Spoiler alert: I totally got into Chapel Hill.

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If I were a Boy

December 25th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

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September 1st, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter


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Or: what I might look like with a Beard

August 4th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

It’s infinitely creepy and satisfying to know you’ve got three boy versions of yourself runnin round, lookin like you, but boy version. Here’s big Brostetter Pete, who’s been brewing his own beer, and it’s AMAZING, and so we drank it all.

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Best sister ever, or best sister ever?

December 25th, 2012 by Bekah Brunstetter

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