Yesterday, a guy managed to jump off the top of the empire state building by getting a RUNNING START and leaping over the barricades. I mean, it requires stamina and determination now to kill yourself in such an iconic way. Why, it used to be easier. But it was suicides like Evelyn McHale (above) that paved way for the latter, encouraged the building of spikey fences, etc. 20 year old Evelyn threw herself off the building in 1947 after breaking up with her fiance, claiming ‘She’d never be a good wife to anyone.’ And then she landed perfectly and at peace on a car. Conveniently, a photographer snapped a picture of it. RIP to both acrobatic young man, and Evelyn, and while we’re at it, to the innocent Moscow victims. RIP.
My mom brought me my old diary from when I was 10 (hillarious) and also some of my old story and poetry journals from high school. I’m thinking of doing something with them for Naked Radio? I just looked through some of the poetry and seriously, I can only stomach so much at a time. It’s pretty depressing, how frustrated I was then…..and how I still struggle with so many of the same issues TWELVE YEARS LATER?? BUT: the happy thoughts: I wrote, and I wrote so much. That was good. In one of the books, there’s this really great few pages in which I’ve gone through the book of James and recording Life lessons that are actually pretty profound (see: separate blog.) Also: about half are about boys (was I even DATING anyone 12 years ago? Who are these poems ABOUT?!) and above each boy-related poem, I wrote the boy’s initials. And I can’t recall for the life of me who they even were. And finally, at least SOME things have changed…..I have this one poem about how I only feel comfortable in boys clothes (I did spend my high school years mostly in man goodwill.) But the poem concludes: one day I will throw parties, and wear dresses.
Yes, young Bekah. Yes you will.
Congratulations, Bekah! On the train to work, you successfully named your unborn child. (Not in that ‘I am currently carrying child’ sort of way, but in that way that I have a child, in theory, in the future, who should probably have a name.) Congratulations, Bekah, on your weirdness. She will be named Ramona! After Ramona Quimby, and the funny leasing agent you’ve been working with this week who keeps telling you she’s going to shoot you. She thinks this is funny, and so do you, a little bit.
I’ve done it. I’ve put a playwright in a play. This makes me gag and squirm a little bit. I resisted the idea at first, but the more I think about it, I really think there’s something there. It’s a student who’s taking her first playwriting class, and as the action of the play unfolds, she’s attempting to make sense of her experiences and desires through this play she’s trying to write. And then the world of the play and the world of the Play bleed into each other.
Even writing that made me gag a little bit. BUT SERIOUSLY, I think there is something to be mined here??? The way that writing a play forces you to create your life’s narrative, forces you to make sense of who you are and what you want, which SORT OF ties into the rest of the play. I’m determined to not give up on it, and least not yet. After all, did we learn nothing from Synechdoche, NY? That art about art can be really compelling? Not that I will ever write something as good as that movie but still. Something to be mined……..
Last night, we were able to surprise Steve with a going away party, SORT OF. It’s hard to trick someone that you tell everything to, and I kept being totally weird and being like LET’S GO TO THE MOVIES TONIGHT, SHALL WE? and a few people accidentally SORT OF mentioned it to him beforehand. BUT: he was still surprised – by all of his friends who showed up to love on him, AND by the iphone cake I created (dark chocolate with cream cheese icing), complete with power button on side. BUT, as guest of honor pointed out, I forgot the headphone jack and power plug. How. Dare. I. Regardless, Success.
The musical formed around the music of Green Day has come to Broadway, and my Mary Faber is in it, and she is amazing, and it is amazing. That is all.
My muse Erin just got her tonsils out yesterday!! She’s been battling terrible throat infections for years, and finally her doctor suggested that they remove them. I’ve been getting updates from her and it’s pretty traumatic and painful. She’s pretty much out for the count for a few weeks. Luckily, her Mom flew up to dote on her. Kids get their tonsils out all the time (or used to?) but it’s apparently much worse to undergo as an adult. Probably because your body has had the tonsils longer and is all what??????? Also, I wonder if, when we are kids, we had a higher tolerance for pain, because we don’t quite yet understand it? What, then, of little kids on airplanes, freaking out when their ears are popping, BWAHHHHHH I AM CONFUSED AND AM I AM CRYING!!!!!! Either way, thinking of E during this tough and ice cream Time.
So TECHNICALLY I am a master of fine arts, and I have the debt to prove it. So: I get really, really mad at myself when I make sloppy / dumb playwriting mistakes, etc. When my mind wanders or I write undramatic scenes or I can’t focus or make decisions. Sometimes, I all of the sudden have no idea how to write a play, or I’ve at least forgotten the art of Dramatics that I spent 3 years studying. Sure, my mind doesn’t necessarily work that way when it comes to a first draft of a play, but seriously, I should at least be able to NOT write like a 12 year old.
Specifically, I’m mad at myself over a play I’m writing in a bit of a hurry for the Primary Stages writer’s group (Note: hurry. As per usual. I am really hoping that in a few weeks when I will finally NOT be hurrying, I will find that I write better?) I think the play started off well but then sort of drifted off into that sort of place where I’m writing selfishly, for myself instead of for the characters.
THANKFULLY, that is the beauty of a writer’s group. My new buds have given me helpful feedback in terms of what they ARE responding to, and have been quick to encourage me. How does anyone ever manage to do this alone?