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

Rain Poem

February 28th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

It’s Raining

It’s raining women’s voices as if they had died even in memory
And it’s raining you as well marvellous encounters of my life O little
drops
Those rearing clouds begin to neigh a whole universe of auricular cities
Listen if it rains while regret and disdain weep to an ancient music
Listen to the bonds fall off which hold you above and below

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il pleut

February 28th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

dans LA, aujourd’hui, il pleut beaucoup, and so, WORK WAS CANCELLED so that we might stay off le road, and so I get to hole up at home and catch up on work, and so God Bless LA and its inability to handle any éléments. I already can’t wait for the post-rain clouds and clarity to come.

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Like….

February 27th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I dreamt I was walking through some sort of whimsical winter wonderland with trees made of lollipops and ice, and I was trying to take pictures of it, more specifically, I was trying to take a selfie of myself IN the wonderland, but for some reason, my when I turned my phone’s camera on myself, I WAS NOT THERE.

Like….

That was my dream. Like…I dreamt I could not take selfies. Maybe it had some profound significance, like I’m afraid I’m disappearing or anxious about documenting my life so as to slow it down. But ultimately… I dreamt I could not take selfies.

That was my dream.

I’m a 31 year old woman person. Like….

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Why it’s the Best, and How

February 26th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I wish I had more time to 1.) have 2.) properly share profound travel thoughts,  but I’m back in the grind, doing all of the things to make them dollar dollar bills so that I may GO MORE PLACES because this trip, moreso than any other, has inspired and challenged me to save said bills and create the time to GO EVERYWHERE, SEE EVERYTHING (Iceland! Peru! New Zealand! Morocco! Scotland!) , gain perspective, and climb things. So, in lieu of a narrative non-fiction travel section NYT essay in which I would probably attempt some crappy metaphors and say Amazing 700 times and talk way too much about plantains: A List of why Costa Rica it is the Best.

1.) The PEOPLE  are incredibly content. They don’t have much, there is a soothing absence of strip malls which sort of makes you feel immediately like you need less. Costa Rica hasn’t had an army since 1948, and they are dang proud of this. Subsequently, their education and healthcare systems are totally killing it. Tourism provides tons of jobs, and you can just tell, with every person you interact with: they are happy.

2.) THE FOOD. The finest of hot sauces and sweet fried plantains and the best pork chops in your life. Everywhere you look, the freshest pineapple and mango and papaya and watermelon you ever did see.

3.) LACK OF STUPID STUFF. Like I said before, it’s quite touristy, but also like I said before, most of the country is untouched by commercialism. Even the touristy parts aren’t shouting at you with billboards and signs. I remember driving across the US for the first time and feeling this surprising disappointment to see the same strip mall in every town. And Old Navy with a Petsmart with a Pier One. I hate how comforted I am when I see a Starbucks. Like: this place is safe. Costa Rica is comfortable, but also feels like you’re somewhere else.  And as you coast through it, there are unpaved roads, tiny and simple towns with just one store (because really, you only need one store.) So much untouched beauty.

4.) To totally contradict my last point: FREE. WIRELESS. EVERYWHERE.

5.) THE BOYS. Everywhere. They’re asking you to dance and harnessing you to a zipline and pouring your tequila. They’re sweet and strong with dark eyes and white white teeth and they call you honey but not in a weird way, like they’re simultaneously  pulling you into to dance without asking while also offering to carry your luggage but also help you fix your flat but also recite a poem in Spanish while you fall asleep.

6.) PURA VIDA. Daria told me this before I went but I didn’t get it until I got there: Pura Vida is something everyone says to each other. It seems to mean many, many things. Like hi, and also bye, and also take care, and also have fun, but more specifically: let it go, life is wondrous, be here now. As much as you don’t want to sound like the gringa who’s been there for five minutes and is overusing her two words of Spanish, you can’t help it, and before you know it, you’re shouting it, to everyone.

7.) JULIEN PATTON, my oldest friend, my marvelous and adventurous and tolerant travel companion, who is not necessarily only found in Costa Rica.

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That’s what friends are forrrr (memes)

February 25th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

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This is Show?

February 24th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

One of my favorite gym games, second to Watching Girl in Full Makeup Try not Sweat and Are You my Boyfriend?   is watching one of the soundless TVs and making grand decisions about what I’m watching.  Based on 30 minutes of concentrated study, pictured above is a show in which slightly overweight men middle aged men in hoodies and flannels sit around  googling things and reading buzz feed and eating beef jerky and aimlessly crossing in front of the camera to get more beef jerky, and sometimes they answer the phone when other slightly overweight middle aged men in hoodies call in with stuff to say about sports. Like: that’s the show.

That is the entire show.

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How get all of my time and also money

February 23rd, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Charming old Man sitting at table outside CVS: HELLO BEAUTIFUL LADY!

Me (walking away): Hi, I’m sorry, I’m, I don’t have any –

Old Man: You have a minute?

Me: (No) Sure, um –

Old Man: we’re collecting money to feed a bunch of  kids an easter supper in April, we’re just looking for any help, any help at all.

Me: Well that sounds….that sounds great.

Old Man: 20 dollars feeds a whole family of them.

Me: I’ve only got a five.

Old Man: Beautiful lady, we will take whatever we can get. We’re gonna fix honey ham, sides, egg hunt,  We take the debit cards, too.

Me: Here are all of my cards.

Old Man (swiping them:) We’re looking for volunteers too to help out with the picnic. Beautiful young lady like you,  the children would sure appreciate it ,and it’s kinda place you could meet your husband, not that you don’t need one if you don’t got one, I’m sure you’re just fine on your own, but we’re not meant to go through life alone.

Me: OKAY SIGN ME UP AND HERE IS ALL OF MY CONTACT AND PERSONAL INFORMATION AND ALSO A HUG.

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Spirit air, or Don’t

February 23rd, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

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My flight back to LA was cancelled which likes to happen when you feel like all is well / life is good, as if your mellow and positivity summoned your own misfortune. Which is the opposite of the Secret. Hmm. To later discuss.

With helps from my pops I bought myself a whole new ticket on spirit air, and hear I sit, five hours later, totally remembering that OH YEAH SPIRIT AIR IS TOTALLY THE WORST AND NOT ONLY DO THEY NOT FLY YOU, THEY TAKE ALL YOUR MONEY AND ESSENTIALLY MAKE PEE ON ALL YOUR HOPES j AND DREAMS BECAUSE THERE IS MAYBE MAINTENANCE BUT WHEN YOU LOOK OUT THE WINDOW THERE IS A SMALL MAN WITH A FLASHLIGHT NEXT TO THE PLANE BUT NOT EVEN LOOKING AT IT.

And so, mutiny:

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People are in tears. Mad moms in tank tops are shouting about baby formula and social media. Dads pace and huff and some dude from Colorado makes a hashtag. Then suddenly, this little guy in a wheelchair rolls up, parting the pissed crowd. To the poor people behind the counter fighting back their own tears: . I know it’s not your fault. Rolls away. Pause. Everyone feels like a dick. Just for a minute. Then it resumes, some apologizing, some shouting, me watching, all of us holding back tears.

Either this is a sad / fascinating / revelatory study of human nature or I’m high off my own mellow or the fumes from my trash can pillow or all or both.

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Oh, you want me to leave? Hilarious.

February 22nd, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Profound travel thoughts to come, but I figured I’d share that picture to wordlessly summarize my last night in This marvelous country, merengue dancing in San Jose. In summation: a glorious blur!

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Holy. Crap.

February 20th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

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ZIPLINED HUNDREDS OF FEET IN THE AIR THROUGH RAIN FOREST. SO FUN.

GUESS WHAT WILL NEVER BE SCARY AGAIN?

ANYTHING AT ALL.

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