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

A Drunk Stewardess, Even

August 18th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Please tell me you’ve heard about THIS.

Le Wow. On Sunday, August 5th, Airline Steward Sarah Miles took a big hit right in the Gob for all of us girls who Get Drunk at Inopportune moments, and decided to board her flight the Shit Canned, apparently consuming quite a few of those lil’ bottles o Jack. She then proceeded to make ‘terroristic threats’ at her fellow crew members, and was promptly arrested.

I sympathize with Ms. Mill’s need to get sloppy while in flight. Flying being the Worse thing EVERR, I can’t imagine my job being to stay on some shitcraft 9 hours a day with shakings, bitchiness of patrons, talky toddlers and vest-inflation. I’d probably be ‘a-tappin’ that whiskey stash, too.

But – in the defense of the Airline steward – My grandma was one, and this is how she met my grandpa so – if it weren’t for this lamentable position – I would not exist.

In summation – Sarah Miles – I lift my airplanebottleofchardonnay to you – and I think we all should.

Posted in factual smarts | No Comments »

Why I Write and Like Clothes

August 18th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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It’s fun to nostalgically re-trace the steps of your life, and figure out exactly why you are the way that you are.

Dudes, I ate up some Babysitter’s club. I was obsessed. God bless Anne M. Martin for the time she took to explain, in great detail, in colors, the exact outfits of every member of the Babysitter’s Club’s outfits when they convened for their weekly meeting.  Ms. Martin taught me to pay attention to detail. She also taught me about diabetes, Black people, and what One should Not do when One Babysits.

Posted in books | No Comments »

The Way in which Robots will make Love to eachother

August 16th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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In the future, Robots will make love to each other via files and jpegs. Their declarations of devotion will be titled iminlovewithyou.doc.

Their hearts will look like this:

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Once filled with musings and metallic love sounds, these documents will be transferred via soft robot touches, and love will happen. This love will be measured in  gifs, watts and gigabytes. Stuff like that. Man and woman-bots, for the first time,  will be able to compare their feelings of love with each other. (I Love Mine this Much. The Mostest.  I am almost full. I am 83% full of love.)

Then babybots will happen, and the parentbots will open blank documents to fill with every sound their child ever makes, forever.

Unfortunately, baby robots look like this:

colani17.jpg

Posted in boys, factual smarts | No Comments »

Validation; Rejection.

August 15th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Let’s take a moment to think about how much that looks like a Behind.

Okay.

So last week, while home, I was eating Chinese with my big Bro Pete. My post-msg fortune read: Chill out while you Can: a Big Project is on it’s Way. I was pretty stoked about this. I felt like my choice to freak out and fly home into Mommy and Daddy’s arms was totally validated, because something huge and important was about to happen. I decided, then that this important thing would be the P73 Playwright’s Grant, a Grant in the amount of $8,000 that supports you in the research and development in your play of choice.

But when I returned home – le rejection letter poked irksomely out of the mailbox. Poke; You totally suck. p73 Did indeed NOT choose to fund The Arbitrary Adventures of White Crayon Women, A half-bakedish idea I came up with about a Depressed girl on the Oregon Trail. A comedy, mind you.

I humph-ed about it for a good minute. This what I usually do with my rejection letters (which I get rather frequently): Allow a nice HUMPH, count to ten, then throw the thing in the trash.

But then, the wonderful happened. And this seems to keep occurring: rejections are following suite by good news. They tend to balance each other out.

I am horn-tootin’ proud to announce that my 10 min play Arms, about the sad seperation of Sis and Sam, Siamese twins, is a finalist for the Heideman Award at the 2007 Humana Festival , the Actors Theater of Louisville, KY. This is a pretty sweet deal, and Arms could potentially be produced at the festival, and then published, which looks like this:

humana2006.jpg

In other cookie sweet news, the agent who represents Sara Ruhl, my favorite FAVORITE playwright EVER who I am so consistently gay for – whose words and liberties inspire me to no end – whose characters turn into almonds – FINALLY got back to me, really like You May Go Now, and is interested in my work.

In finally, I just got a voicemail from Lou Moreno at the Rattlestick Playwrights Theater. He wants to talk about the plays I sent him eons ago. Rattlestick has developed some AMAZING work including but not limited to the stellar drama plays of Adam Rapp. , another hero person of mine.

Je die – je revell in sweet validation, however I can get it, large or small. It makes rejection so much sweeter. I diatribe here on this: if you are any sort of artist, it is so hard to keep up one’s moral. A rejection is more than just a No, it’s like someone laughing at you in your skivey’s. You are just that naked when you put your work out into the world. Or at least, this is how it feels. So I say: rejections: give them a Humph, a baby one, then into the stinkpot they go. Submit and Forget, I say. The watched career never boils.

Posted in horn tooting, the writing of drama plays, theater, tout | No Comments »

Yeah, Bitches!

August 15th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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So I was worried about this one. I’ve been working on this beastdragondramaplaymonster for nearly a year, and I have been so over it. BUT: Lads, Lasses, last night I attended the first read through of the play: And thanks to some amazing actors who are tearing this shit up into lovely little Bekah-joy pieces – I think this show is going to be awesome. People crawling out of ovens, guns purchased on Ebay, cake baking, uncanny declarations of love, oral sex, and perhaps the invention of the internet. Le Yay.

Read the playbill.com article Here.

If you are in my zip that is code, I hope you can make it.

Posted in the writing of drama plays, theater, trying too hard | No Comments »

Chocolate Cake

August 14th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Perfect.

I will not give my chocolate cake manifesto, because it would be giant statingoftheobvious game. You know. I know. Eat it.

But If nothing else, Remember this: it is infinitely important to indulge yourself. Be happy.

Posted in food | No Comments »

Kissy McJewerstein

August 14th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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The Jewish Kiss Monster!

Posted in boys | No Comments »

Eh?

August 13th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

images.jpg Because I can.

Eh? Aw.

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aHa. fig000-1.jpg

b803236.jpg Ewe. fatkid.jpgEek

giant-inflatable-sausage.jpg …eeee…

punkin_1.gif ….Eh.

Posted in sucking, Uncategorized | No Comments »

The Dangers of Drunk Biking.

August 13th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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(Disclaimer: I am totally guilty of this.)

Um. Apparently, there are a LOT of reasons why you should not bike drunk. Such a plethora of reasons, even that WebMD has created an entire video Aid as to why you should not Scotch it up, and then proceed to Bike it up.

Now, I am not much of a hypochondriac, and have never really been one to attempt to diagnose myself online, so I am not terribly familiar with this thing we are calling ‘WebMD.’ Today, I decided to peruse it. I have learned that wheat bread is giving me cervical cancer, and that Overweight kids miss more school, and that I really want a Big Mac right now. I, however, did not recieve any sort of lollipop for my troubles, which is disappointing. Also, I would like to suggest to WebMD that there be some sort of window in which you can enter your social security number, to find out whether or not you are pregnant, Aids-ridden, or destined for sickly servitude.

Anywhoo. This video in particular uses the terrifying tactics of science and factual stuffs and whatnot to try and convince the commonbike person to please not booze n ride.

But perhaps you are not convinced. I will now present both sides of the argument, to be fair. This is a little thing I like to call ‘Didactic Journalism.’

Reasons why drunkBiking is Totally Awesome:

– wind through your hair
-A Quicker, more effective, less DUI-y mode of transportation to/from bar
-The general over-whelming cuteness of oneself on one’s bike, which proves effective in the attraction of the opposite sex (especially if you stink all man/woman good)
– Going down a hill and saying something like ‘wheeeeee’
-Returning to one’s youth in a very Simba-esque circle of bike-life type situation
-burning of fatmojito calories
-Going down a hill and screaming something like ‘haHA! Je BIKE and you do NOT!’ At passerby’s.
– ‘Taying’ in the wind (See Nell.)

And then, reasons why Drunk Biking is Totally Not Awesome:

……Death.
Um – Death.

So, right. Death. If I love you, and you ride the bike, please do not boozNcruise. I will hunt you down and cut you for trying. Careful out there, the bikers. We are no longer young.

Posted in factual smarts, i am scared, vices | No Comments »

alanis gayisette

August 10th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Okay, hombres. I don’t know about you, but: Jagged Little Pill was my first CD, ever. Words cannot capture the joy of locking myself in my room, popping that little fucker into my player (littered with glowy stickers and yin yangs) and listen to her whiney pretty’s from beginning to end.

Peoples, I felt understood. Didn’t you? My inner monologue: dude: She knows. She KNOWS.

But: flash forward, some 10 years later: last night, a pimpass SUV pulled through my neighborhood – blasting- and I do mean Le BLASTING – Jagged Little Pill’s Secret Song. You remember. Last track – you had to wait two minutes of dead air before the melacholy began.

Lyrics are:

I went to your house
Walked up the stairs
I opened your door without ringing a bell
I walked down the hall
Into your room
Where I could smell you

And I
Shouldn’t be here
Without Permission
Shouldn’t be here
Would you forgive me love
If I danced in your shower
Would you forgive me love
If I laid in your bed
Would you forgive me love
If I stay all afternoon oh…

I took off my clothes
Put on your robe
Went through your drawers and I found your cologne
Went down to the den
Found your CD’s
And I played your Johnny

And I
Shouldn’t stay long
You might be home soon
I Shouldn’t stay long
Would you forgive me love
If I danced in your shower
Would you forgive me love
If I laid in your bed
Would you forgive me love
If I stay all afternoon oh…

I burned your incense
I ran a bath
I noticed a letter that sat on your desk
It said hello love
I love you so love
Meet me at midnight
And no
It wasn’t my writing
I better go soon
It wasn’t my writing

So forgive me love
If I cry in your shower
So forgive me love
For the salt in your bed
So forgive me love
If I cry all afternoon oh…

Oh, Oh Oh. People, when I used to listen to this song, it was TRAGIC. Imagining what is like to find some love letter, to cry in showers, to put on said man robes – tragic. Granted, I had no idea who ‘Johnny’ was or what it REALLY meant – yet – to love or loose – these words made me cry.

But last night, this song felt nostalgic – but dead. In retrospect? What the F is she whining about, anywhoo?

Tragedy, ‘Tragedy.’ There’s genocide in Darfur. Perspective, people. Take two minutes to cry in the shower, lay in your bed, and oh Oh Oh and whatnot – then boot strap it up, I think.

As for Alanis, her and her new haircut:

alanis_large.jpg

have been frequenting the likes of Sex and the City and Curb your Own Enthusiasm: (making out with Sara foot face J Parker, and sharing tepid secrets with Larry David) and avoiding this dude:

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Like the plague.

Posted in music, sucking, whining | No Comments »

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