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

My Funny Valentine

February 14th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m sick. NyQuil is my Valentine.

No, literally, it is. I asked, and it said yes. Last night I partook of it and dreamt you were off to fly a small plane to Japan and I got really angry because you don’t know how to fly. You stormed off because I second guessed your mad skills. Later you reappeared in the form of really large chair, and blindfolded me, and I was pretty sure you were staging some sort of proposal, but instead you were just showing me that there’s actually four floors in my house that I’ve never seen. There’s a sauna, a Wendy’s, and an entire room that’s just a trampoline, so I decided maybe I shouldn’t move, after all.

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Here’s what Helps:

February 13th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Red wine chased with liquid pain medication  and one portable, tonsilless Mack Yeager reading aloud from The Secret.

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I just.

February 12th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

How do I.

What do I.

When? Where?


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To Willie

February 12th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

My friend reminded me of Phosphorescent, who I completely forgot that I used to love. I saw him once at the Bell House and was instantly gripped by his lackadaisical stage presence, which, apparently, in 2009, I decided was ‘laxadasical.’ He has a fantastic album of Willie Nelson that provides the perfect background music for Car Crying, Pensive Sitting, and Apathetic Exercise.

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Straight to the Source

February 11th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

I had to pictureofapicture this family reunion photo, circa 2000,  from my Grandparent’s house. I feel like it explains so much. Probably not to you, but looking at it, I had an Epiphany, by which I do not mean my cousin named Epiphany, who I can’t find in this picture.  I’m in the green.

Every year, from when I was about eight til well, I still try and go, we’ve had a family reunion at Yaupon Beach in NC. It’s basically the best except for the fact that,  and this is NO ONE’S FAULT BUT MY OWN*, this yearly pilgrimage plagued me with ridiculously shallow  priorties. I wanted to be thin and tan and wee and blonde like my cousins. I wanted to strut down the beach in my bikini top and have boys accidentally ram me with their skim boards just to get my attention and I wanted these boys to fall in love with me and mail me shell necklaces and I wanted to  eat nothing but Doritos but not look it, but instead smell of various sections of Bath and Body Works. Effortless, small. And clearly, I just was not.  But this was all I wanted, and I felt constantly inadequate which, of course, gave me a delightfully limited worldview and kept me from, you know, learning, dreaming, travelling, and anything else that requires mental space that is NOT consumed by the straightening and dying of one’s hair; situps. Gradually, as I hit college, I kinda gave up on wanting to skin my beauitful cousins and wear them around like coats and am proudly, today, pretty much okay with Me. But it wasn’t easy getting here, and the worst part of all is acknowledging how much time and energy I wasted worrying and comparing — how I easily could have just replaced this with confidence, even if it was an arbitrary kind.  But ultimately, I am now fine.

* Mom, this is not your fault. Stop drafting the apology email. Stop it….Stop….


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….meal, of Sorts?

February 10th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Last night I had my first Happy Meal probably in 20 years? It was less that I ‘had’ or ‘ate’ it and more like I just explored it with my hands and a little bit my mouth. Obvi, McD’s has come under much scrutiny for the fact that it you know, makes me people fat. And so, they have adjusted their happy meals to instead include apple slices, which were sort of like strange, apple slice shaped astronaut foods that smelled vaguely of fruit, and this INCREDIBLY TINY AND ADORABLE BOX OF FRENCH FRIES. I wasn’t sure whether to eat or cuddle them. And so I cuddled them. But then I ate them.

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There are no words.

February 9th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter


Yes that IS old bay round the rim and it IS happy to see you.

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February 8th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter


Stayed in a tiny hotel in manhattan for no reason. Perk: a mirror weather prophet.

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February 7th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

We are never too old for friendship rings, ESPECIALLY when said rings are completely unnecessary eyeballs that move.

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It is Real.

February 6th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

The USPS is going to stop delivering paper mail on Saturdays, meaning we’re shifting further and further away from letters that we can touch. Soon it’ll be less and less and less, to the point where receiving an actual, tangible letter will be ridiculous, archaic and adorable. Similarly, I’m going to pillage my storage space in BK tomorrow and get rid of most of my books, which  breaks my heart. But what I am I meant to do, cart them around with me when I can shove them all into my ipad? But I want to look at them on my walls and touch them and take them all in, remembering reading each one, or the specific reason why I started reading it and put it down, or perhaps did not read it, at all. Gone are the days.

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