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

she gave birth to herself

October 25th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


for Halloween.

What will you do, or rather, be? I encouraged the dressing up as inhuman things: canned tuna, vacuum machines; the dressing up as philosophical ideas such as ‘perserverance’ and ‘regret.’ A slight ps – last America’s Next Top Model – or ANTM, if you’re into acronym-ing, the warm-clad skinnied bitches were forced to ice skate while portraying an ’emotion.’ Most were confused.

This year, I am going to be a present, or a ‘package,’ depending on how loaded you like your verbage.

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October 24th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


Drinks last night with Kyle Jarrow was wonderful. Were wonderful? Was? There were a few had, and had they were. Eh. Good advice was given – I feel uplifted/realistic/optimistic/good things. This, of course, might be the breakfast sandwich talking.

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October 24th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

I dare you to Meet the Team.

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microwaves are hard

October 23rd, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


Lesson-y type things are being steadily accumulated at my new place of employment, Equity Corporate Housing.

Like: Microwaves are hard. They are confusing; misleading. Frightening, terrifying things happen inside of them, like explosions and systematic ruinings of American meals. Calls and emails are placed in made out of the sheer terror of the instrument.

What is it? How does it work? Why does it work? Is it mad at me? May I boil milk inside of it?  

Yes, the tenant, you may. With caution. Fear not, Bekah, QAC hopeful, is here to help. I want to think that the ‘Q’ is Quality, or perhaps ‘Quiet,’ and I think the C might insinuate Consultant, or Caretaker/Caregiver/Cupcake person with Keys to most Manhattan buildings. Fear not. Towels will be folded and stacked, the crucial Vegetable Peeler in place. I am so on it.


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Le Fou

October 21st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


C’est I have finished the first draft of my new play!

Paris, 1929 (date subject to change, I just figured out that i think it’s HORRIBLY historically inaccurate) – the first department store happens, as a place where the rich women can have something to do: spend their money. In this department store, there is a cafe, where the women can write letters to their illicit lovers. Porters are employed by the store to deliver the sordid letters, wait for a response, and deliver it back to the waiting rich gal. Also, John Singer Sargent’s reputation has just been horribly mauled when his painting of Mme. Amelie Gartreau (Mme. X) caused a huge scandal at the Salon. St. Valentine’s Day, the salon: hillarity and heartache, lost gloves and the pain of choosing ones first illicit lover ensue in the parlor of Marche Beardoux. I think.

Hey, at least it’s done. Sort of.

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I am through Whining Now.

October 21st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


Walls is whiney. It just is.

I realized this Thursday night, as I watched and really listened. I’m starting to agree with some of the reviews, that it is a bit whiney.  Also – last night – as I watched the show – I realized that I’m shallow.  If the fact that at a given moment – no one finds me pretty –  can ruin my day  – if I am still lamenting the devastation of feeling unattractive in middle school – then stick me in the shallow end, cause that’s sad. Not that I am alone in my shallowness though – I think that most women are this way – and that is why the play really resonates with women who see it – but – if I spent half the time I spend whining and lamenting like – READING – DOING – I would be far more rounded. I would. I would perhaps have that inner glow which I have spent far too much time lamenting the utter lack of.

Point being, I’m done whining about that Now. I am – perhaps – hopefully – on the greater things.

Posted in the writing of drama plays, whining | No Comments »

Thank you for Coming to my Drama Play.

October 21st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter



She giggled. He squirmed. I’m glad they came.

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Romulus Linney

October 20th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


Dear Romulus Linney ,

I hear you are coming to see my play tonight. Please do not think it sucks. I will address you awkwardly after, and most likely shake your hand.




Your daughter: this lady:

I like her. You should bring her, too.

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my tantrum

October 18th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter


No, No, No.

No, seriously. I really don’t.

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October 17th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

For today, I love the music of Andrew Bird , who considers himself to be a professional whistler, and who sings soft things about measuring cups with words like ‘there will be snacks there.’ Give albums ‘The Mysterious Production of Eggs’ and ‘Armchair Apocrypha’ a serious listen. Thank goodness, I just discovered, he looks like this:


ie, he poses flippantly with large instruments, which is strangely similar to this:


HaHA. Hello, the copycat.

Also, today, well, okay, EVERY day EVER – I hate jean skirts.



Please, girlfanbase, don’t wear them, ever. Why would you do this denimed thing to yourself? This stiff, sticky thing that pretty much – well – never looks NOT 1998 and is guaranteed to make your butt sweat excessively? It is pretty much also  guaranteed to do the thing where it twists around as you walk and the butt pocket creeps to your front zone. I swore them off years ago. Ladies, you should too.

Finally – today – i feel conflicted  – ie I like and do NOT like – the fact that I’m starting a new job tommorrow. It’s nice to not have to worry about employment for a minute – that was getting old but – I feel like my life is over now. I feel like I’ve given in. I did the math, and honestly, I don’t even know if it’s going to be enough money off of which to live, especially once loan payments kick in. Eh. Is it so wrong to think or feel like I’m destined for greatness? That is so arrogant and unrealistic but – I have really always felt it. I guess we shall see if said ‘greatness’ occurs.

I think more importantly I need to stop being such a CUNextTuesday, like I have been recently, I feel. A total grumblepuss. Where did joy go? It went. I think I forgot it at Gristede’s. I usually am not one to not feel joy.

What’s going on? I don’t know.

Regardless, tommorrow I begin work. Jean skirts will NOT be worn, Andrew Bird will be hearkened, and perhaps joy will be found somewhere between here and 8 west 38th st.

Even this very blog lacks joy. Ugh.

But there are momentary ways to force fleeting Joy, which I will do now:


….Yay. Christmas.

Posted in vices, what i am NOT wearing, whining, working, worrying | No Comments »

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