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


May 2nd, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter

Guess what you guys, I LIVE BY THE BEACH TECHNICALLY! (Truth.) And so today, my friend and I went and stood on it.


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change your place / change your mind

April 7th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’ve gone and escaped to up to Ojai for a few days to clear my head and to try and fix a play that’s be eluding me.  Ojai is a beauty of a valley just 90 minutes north of LA. Orange trees and hippies stores and pensive hikes. Currently the creative part of my brain feels like a large hunk of a very old rice krispie treat. Thick and sticky and slow and sweet.  To combat this stickiness, you sometimes  literally have to LEAVE. You just have to GO. Somewhere you’ve never been. Or some new part of a place you’ve already been. Ideally somewhere you can drive to, so that’s there’s not the stress /expense of DEATH AIR TRAVEL. But somewhere far enough where you should probably stay overnight and stare at a strange ceiling and take in the silence of the strange room. The very act of seeing something you’ve never seen before — finding it, seeing it on your own, taking it in, sheds the marshmallow layer of the brain that grows with routine, accumulates on its surface like rust. New places trigger questions and thought. NONE OF THIS IS TO SAY that I have fixed my  play quite yet, but I DID ponder the creation story and do some deep thinking about what snakes are for. SUCCESS (?) (!)

Posted in a lot, how interesting, i am lucky, i have peace, the whole world, the writing of drama plays, theater, tout | No Comments »

Everything is Copy

March 23rd, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter

As revealed in the VERY FANTASTIC GO WATCH IT THIS SECOND new HBO documentary on Nora Ephron, Nora’s mother used to tell her that everything is copy. Meaning: everything that happens to you, no matter how devastating or terrible: it is a story that is yours to tell. And if you tell it, you control the laugh. Isn’t that brilliant? If you put yourself in front of your own angst, your own tragedy, get ahead of it, announce it in your own way — it no longer controls you. Among the 900 other fascinating things about this resplendent woman, the doc (made by her son, after her sudden death from leukemia at 71 in 2012) hits home how, after making a career out of writing movies and books and essays about her personal life, with scathing honesty — she managed to make her death private. She told no one except for immediate family that she was dying. When she could have capitalized on her own illness, her own confrontation of death, she kept it to herself — so that in a way, she could control it. Isn’t that amazing? An old friend interviewed for the movie asserts that ‘Nora was not a genius.’ But he meant it as a compliment. If she were a genius, she would not have been as human and accessible as she was. I have often worried that I’m not a genius.  Or rather, I very much know that I’m not. But thanks to Nora, I officially embrace this. If being a not genius means pulling people closer and closer towards you with the truth that you tell about how sad and wonderful and insane it is to be alive at all,  then I am all in.

Posted in a lot, books, famous people stuff, hmmmmm, how interesting, i have peace, life, trying too hard, women, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

you sometimes get what you think you want

October 22nd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

This time last year, and perhaps well, most to all of the years, I was panicking and overworked and trying to do 900 things. But I kind of enjoy that feeling of absurd productivity and exhaustion, is that bad?  It makes me feel relevant. Like I am maximizing on my minutes?But I fantasized about having a day with nothing to do.  And now find myself with something I never thought I would have again, LESS COMMITMENTS, MORE TIME. Like little pockets of it to practice the piano and read BOOKS. But I  don’t know what to fully do with it the Time. I worry about wasting it. Last night I dreamt I was in a concert hall to see a symphony. As they played, water swelled underneath them until they were floating, and then the water took over the whole space until I was also floating, then the pond became a wave pool, then a tsunami, but a gentle kind that didn’t threaten to kill as we suddenly all had snorkels and oxygen tanks. We just keep listening to the star violinist who was now a fish type person. We weren’t scared, we just swam and heard, undulated. I think myself is telling myself to just move through the time, that it doesn’t have to be thrilling or terrifying or even important, that it can just be time spent listening.

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October 14th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Hi, I am now officially old enough to be annoyed by those younger than me and pass judgement on them and pretend I’m happy to be older / wiser, while secretly also doing a lot of the things they do and also desperately wishing I could still eat bread and drink more than a glass of wine and not wake up with a headache. Hi! Overheard this morning while waiting for my eleven dollar coffee which I can totally afford because I’m old, dammit:

Young barista: Hey did you know that facetious is —


Young barista: Yeah.


Young Barista: I don’t know what facetious means.

Other young barista: Yeah, me neither.

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August 22nd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I wanna live my life outside. This is a late discovery. I used to hide inside reading Babysitter’s Club until my parents literally had to lock me out of the house until I’d ridden my bike around the neighborhood. And even THEN, I would sit under the swing set in the backyard and play circus, which, from what I recall, just involved sitting underneath the swing set in the backyard, and imagining a circus happening all around me.

But in my adult life, I LOVE OUTSIDE.  It’s gorgeous and massive and calm and here for us to play on and explore like a grown up swing set but sturdier most of the time. Today Julien and I hiked the Stawamus Peak Chief and if I’m being real it was more of a TWO MILE TOTALLY UPHILL CLIMB.

I nearly died 9 times partially because of a back injury from something pathetic  like lifting something and then like, standing out of a chair too fast, but a bunch of terrifying chains / ladders / stairs / trees / stones / very fast children later:

By far the highest I have ever climbed. The Chief stands 2,000 feet over Squamish, so I’m just going to tell myself I did that.

We rewarded ourselves with something not found in nature but Godly, just the same.

And props to these kids who ALSO <3 the outside and also taking money from tourists who are dying of thirst who thought the hike was 90 minutes ROUND TRIP NOT ONE WAY.

Posted in ...sports?, a lot, awesome, i am a grown up, i am lucky, i am scared, i have peace | No Comments »

some news is news

July 31st, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m not sure if you’ve been following the progression of this piece of plane found off an island near Madagascar, but being that I must understand all and every plane crash, I of course have. I’ve been checking in each morning with a sick longing for certainty that this part indeed belonged to the lost Malaysian plane, while trying not to imagine a piece of one of the four planes I’m about to board over the next few weeks bobbing off the coast of Africa, forgotten and barnacled.  Here’s what has been the progression of the news:

– Hey we found a piece of a plane! Maybe it’s from that lost plane!

– Okay so we looked at it, and we have determined that yes, it is a piece of a plane, and also, there is a missing plane.

– Okay so we looked at it even more, and now we can say with certainty that it is maybe part of that plane.

– Okay guys, it is definitely maybe part of that plane.

– HEY GUESS WHAT HUGE NEWS! We are 100 percent certain that it is definitely possible that it’s part of that plane!


It is maddening. More than anything, I want peace and answers for the families, who have now been waiting some 500 days for news. I hope they get this.

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July 22nd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

Worry or wonder or worrywonder that suddenly, something will mix up  in your brain, and you will suddenly think that red light means stop and vice versa and you will go plowing through a red one and into oncoming traffic? Or that collectively, all of us as drivers, we will simultaneously loose our minds / senses of decorum and self preservation and all run our cars into each other? Or that Apple is secretly or not so secretly the great evil force or ISIS and will text us all Amber Alerts simultaneously that make us all at once check our phones while driving which will send us all careening off of bridges and into each other while also off the bridge? Or marvel at what a miracle it is at all that we ARE HUMANS AND FALLIBLE AND WE DRIVE CARS AND THAT WE ABIDE BY TRAFFIC LAWS AND USUALLY DO NOT DRIVE OUR CARS INTO EACH OTHER? OR WONDER ABOUT ROBOT CARS AND WHAT THE CRAP THAT WILL BE?! AND THEN REALIZE THAT ACTUALLY  THERE ARE ALREADY ROBOT CARS AND I IN FACT BLINDLY FOLLOWING MY GPS AM PART CYBORG?

Just me? Oh. Okay.

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Rest easy in Fiddler’s Green

July 17th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

I found out this morning that one of the Marines killed yesterday  — Gunny Sergeant Thomas Sullivan — served with my little brostetter  in Korea. Tim shared this picture above  of his buddy — he’s the festive marine slash snowman on the far right. Tim was gone over last Christmas, and it was tough, but he promised us over Skype  that he and his Marines were celebrating accordingly, apparently in MASSIVE SNOWMEN COSTUMES, which I am ENDLESSLY DELIGHTED BY. Isis and gun control and worry and fear and WHAT THE CRAP IS HAPPENING IN THIS COUNTRY aside — I’m moved by how Marines commemorate each other when they pass away. It is always an honorable death, no matter what. There’s no Why God Why, there is just acceptance, and a sort of peace. Tim shared some beautiful words about his bud, and wished him to Rest Easy in Fiddler’s Green — a mariner’s afterlife where there is unlimited drink and dance. It’s probably a special Marine thing that I’m not allowed to say, but hell. On behalf of my bros: Rest Easy, Thomas. Thank you for all that you did. I found these words for you:

At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true
When here they’ve done their duty
The bowl of grog shall still renew
And pledge to love and beauty.

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mark left behind

July 7th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter

A few days ago, a young woman was randomly shot and killed walking with her boyfriend in Hollywood. Being that whenever anything seemingly senseless like this happens I MUST find an explanation — though there rarely  is one — I went straight to her Facebook page, where I found a sweet and happy girl whose favorite thing appears to have been taking pictures of her Chicken purse wherever she went.

Not even her with her chicken purse. Just her chicken purse, staged in various locations, cuddled up next to cocktails, taking in views. And it made me so sad. And it made me wonder what my weird mark left behind would be. And it made me wish very hard that she rests in peace with various animal and bird accessories.

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