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

you’ve been waiting your whole life for this

May 31st, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


Yes, ever since you were running an errand for work past the Manhattan Library on 40th and 5th (You know, the one with the grandiose Lion Statues) and you saw a crowd and stopped and starred as Sara Jessica stepped out of a limo in her wedding dress – since the last episode Aired and you wanted more – since you fandangoed your over priced ticket and planned your Outfit – since you ultimately accepted your own Shallowhood – yes, You’ve been waiting. Nay; since you were born.

And tonight, at circa 8:10 – you will undoubtedly be horribly disappointed. It’s okay. That’s what the thermosful of Cosmopolitans is for.

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May 31st, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


Dear Bekah,

You have one of these now. That’s a good thing, right? Quit yer whinin and yer yimmer yammerin. Kindly grow the F up.

Your friend,

Self Monster

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here’s why not, by erin mccarson

May 27th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

I love Erin McCarson. I just do. As I have thoroughly lost all faith, it may seem, in myself as a writer, JUST because they didn’t pick me to interview for admission – E decided to lift my spirits with these choice words:

You do NOT want to go there. Let’s dissect the word.

First of, ‘Jew.’ Ew. We do NOT likes Jews*.

Then ‘Lee.’ Ew. All of the worst people I know – their middle name is Lee.

And then ‘Hard.’ It’s Hard? Ew. You do not want to do hard things.

God bless you, Erin McCarson.

*This statement does not actually depict Rebecca Brunstetter or Erin McCarson’s feelings towards Jews. Just a cheap joke to make a point. In fact, Rebecca’s Grandmother is Jewish, and she takes serious pride in this. She wrote a play about her Jewish heritage in college, in which Erin played a woman who danced around the stage in a wig singing Broadway Baby for no apparent reason, whatsoever. This has nothing to do with Judaism, you think! Au contraire. Because upstage the entire play, the protagonists Great Aunt Ruth, a concentration camp worker, arbitrarily moves rocks from one side of the stage to the other, until the end of the play when she BURSTS forward through the walls of time and forces her great Niece to reckon with where she’s come from! To quit her 2004-esque whines and shenanigans! At which point, if I remember, paper swatsikas fell from the Grid. Take That, haters. Take that. This White Girl’s got serious grit.

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it just hurts

May 27th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


I feel Every Enveloped No or utter lack of Email real, real deep. It is you are not worth it, others are better. There is the thing that I Do that I once told myself No One else Did, and then the  sad feeling that everyone, actually, is doing it, but better, and trying less hard. It’s not getting picked cause my Umbros have holes in then, or standing alone at the Valentine’s Dance. It’s first grade all over again.

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memorial day

May 26th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

This is my first Memorial Day as a Person Who Works Person. I have to say, in previous years, a Monday off didn’t mean much. But as of late, a 3 day weekend is bigger than Big. It is mind-blowing and essential. It makes me cry a little bit. But there is also this odd pressure. YOU HAVE A THREE DAY WEEKEND. LISTEN, YOU. THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN FOR A LONG TIME. DON’T F- ING BLOW IT. TIME WASTER.

Granted, I did not get a milisecond of work done this weekend, even though I have the next week (with only one night to write) to outline whole Posse season, write a play for binge, and re-write Elephant Play.  That being said, I think I’ve really discovered AND mastered Memorial Day.

The trick to a successful memorial day (weekend) is NOT to journey towards some expensive thing. Instead, one should do nothing; Nothing including all the small, simple things you secretly wish you were doing. For the Me, i relished in the wearing of dirty weekend clothes, dirty weekend hair, the eating of Things I Usually do not allow myself to consume in Fear of feeding arm fat (cool ranch doritoes; ice cream sandwiches) – and had a grand old time.


A farewell dinner / celebatory party for Carrie commending her on her first year of Law Skoo, in her friend Niki’s boyfriend’s retarded Williamsburg apartment (complete with ‘cat,’ ‘dog,’ and ‘rug.’)


A leisurely stroll around my own neighborhood which I feel like I barely even notice anymore.  The neighbors are getting younger and younger. Gah. Brooklyn.

Also –  journey towards the East River – they’ve sort of turned part of its Bank into a park by my house. And by ‘turned into park’ I do mean ‘trees planted’ and ‘italian ice sold,’ and not necessarily ‘there are no more dead rats floating in the water.’



A bike ride over the Pulaski bridge with my favorite activities partner…


A further ride to the Socrates Sculpture park in Queens. It’s okay, I didn’t know either. It’s um, a park. With sculptures. And huge outdoor studios for sculptors (welding and fancy looking weldy equipment and whatnot). I don’t even know. Just look:



And finally, an all-day loaf-about in Astoria park, which boasts ethnic children, an utter lack of Crowd, large stone aquatic creatures to crawl and stand upon, and a breath taking view of some important bridge.



I could ramble here about the bittersweet-esque quality of the day, being that the D and the T are about to go to the I, but instead, I will humbly thank the Day itself, or whoever’s decision it was to make it,  for some good old American well-deserved time off.

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what what

May 22nd, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


This evenings ‘what what”s include, but are not limited to:

– the cocktails I just had with kevin spacey (smartly dressed in a gray suit, white shirt, white tie) at the Soho House Library room (and by ‘with’ I mean ‘in same room as’) for the Old Vic Network networking free cocktail/ panel extravanganza thing


– the warm goat cheese salad with grilled shrimp that I consumed thereafter

– coming home to find my name sharing an article with the likes of Sheila Calahagan, a playwright who(m) I think is grand.

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tender is the night

May 21st, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


Let’s do it again, for real, like high school but Mean it More.

Dick Diver, 2008.

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May 20th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


I’ve had four today already.

So, uh, there.

It’s a bright chubby party in your mouth.  You can almost hear them scream.

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May 18th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter


I have been assigned the daunting task of writing a play concerning the Sloth, as a sin, not necessarily the claw-ed creature that lays before you. Terrifying. Wow.
But – an apathetic google-thon of the word ‘Sloth’ has taken me through 3 lazy hours of  Proverbs, explanations, and facts. I found some schmoe’s blog concerning the RIGHTS of sloths – he took personal offense, on behalf of the greater good of the Sloth population – that such negativity had been assigned to their namesake. ‘Sloths are extremely resilient creatures,’ he exclaims! ‘They are preyed on by eagles and jaguars and the like!’

Mayhaps if some were to sic a jaguar on Bekah Sloth Brunstetter, I might be able to penetrate this grossly thick haze that is blocking my writer brain. It’s serious. I haven’t had a creative thought in circa a week. I can only think: I put a sloth in a room. The Sloth smokes cigarettes and watches the stray kittens chew each other out back. Outside, the world is ending. But the sloth just sloths about, being sloth-like. Enter Django Reinhardt. He hangs out. They make tacos and talk about taxes.

More importantly, see, you can be entirely busy, busy busy busy (see Bekah Brunstetter) but STILL be  a Sloth. This particular explanation of the sin really stuck out to me. You can be doing doing doing, but are you doing RIGHT? Are you doing the things you are MEANT to be doing? See Bekah. See Spiritual and Emotional Laziness, a general state of numb. See my next play, starring Django Reinhardt. See the utter death of my celebrity play, and my half-assed ideas. I want to write a play with all men in a prison. The maintenance staff of a Luxury Building, downstairs in the dungeon. I need to write a movie. I need to wash my hair.

Oh, fyi, this mental paralysis MAY have been caused by the fact that this week, I finally got hired. I officially am now a Person with Job Person. Despite the ginormous financial advantage this will give me, despite the privilege of teeth cleans and twat checks and regular professional opinions from upper east side doctors regarding whether or not I’ve inherited anemia from my grandmother, I feel unsatisfied. As per usual, see Bekah get what she wants and no longer want it At All.

Lastly, it’s raining.

Super lastly, this:


Yeah, so. Sloths. I’ll see you on Broadway.

Posted in whining, worrying | No Comments »


May 14th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

Fanpersons, In case any of you  is wondering what I will doing this Sunday at high noon,  I will be brunching with this fellow:


Why? I’m not entirely sure.  But it has something to do with my alma mater and the Arts. The woman who invited me to be a featured UNC alum said, don’t worry, you won’ t have to give a speech or anything. To which I replied, why not?

I then inquired as to how long the brunch would last, to which she replied – only about an hour. David Hyde Pierce has a matinee to get to (He is currently starring on Broadway in Curtains.) To which I replied – wait, what?

A thorough google investigation reveals no link between Hyde-Pierce and UNC.

Still, I’m thoroughly stoked, and hoping that this brunch involves little sasuage things and breakfast cocktails. People, it’s the little things.


What? I’m not sure. Mind your own business.


Get back to your Day Job.

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