Today, on Louis C.K. for president — I’m listening to his latest interview on the Marc Maron podcast, and he reminded me that these masks that adorn the walls of high school auditoriums and the shelves of Times Square gift shops and the biceps and lower backs of theater nerds are actually comedy and tragedy, not comedy and drama. Like every other person who writes somewhere between those two spaces, I get annoyed at that constant question: do you write comedy or drama? Is it a comedy or a drama? Buried in that question is our desire to be clearly told how to feel by the art we are consuming, which I find limiting. Can’t you feel all of the things at once? He goes onto say that tragedy does not necessarily mean depressing — because there is no tragedy without hope. Isn’t that wonderful? Okay yes, in a tragedy, the hope is oftentimes eradicated. But at least it was there in the first place. At least it was allowed to be.
Like perhaps the rest of the world, I am completely taken by Malala, the Pakistani girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban for standing up for the education of young women, and survived. Since being shot, she has only been awarded the Nobel peace prize, the youngest ever to receive it, and is still working tirelessly as an advocate for human rights. AND SHE IS MERELY 19. She makes me trust and even long for the future. Most recently, her org started joined with Schoola, an online retailer of second hand clothes that benefit charities. It’s a super simple way to help out with her cause. Just request a bag to be mailed to you, fill it with all the gently used clothes you do not wear. They handle the shipping, and a portion of the sales goes to Malala’s work. So simple. Ladiesssss I know you got some shiz you do not wear. DO IT TODAY!
Sometimes it’s like, oh noooooooo, is the earth going to fry up like an omelette, sizzle and implode, or is the moon going to suddenly shift and move and tsunami us all into floating underworld corpses, or is an incurable virus going to spread through our vitamin water or is an asteroid going to smack into the planet, raining fire over all the fields and all of the Targets, worry / worry / worry, but then you see that these are are thing:
and then it’s like, no, you right you right, COME AT US, ASTEROID, WE NO LONGER DESERVE TO BE.
WEEKEND GRIDZ FOR DAYZZZS! Why might a human with free will CHOOSE to spin for three hours, you ask? BECAUSE CANCER. Yesterday YAS raised 83K for cancer patients and their caregivers, and I lost 90 pounds of sweat comprised primarily of bridal shower Rose. TAKE THAT CANCER AND ALSO MY BUTTS.
Anne calls Luke the baby ambassador, basically because he makes it seem like all babies spend 90% of their time giggling and gazing at you lovingly, and you know, never screaming ever at all. LUKE I CAN’T WAIT TO VISIT YOUR COUNTRY / IT BETTER NOT HAVE CHANGED.
Mackenzie and her lovely mom Linda offered to throw me a bridal shower. My first thought: YES PLEASE THANK YOU! Second thought: HATS!
Babies n family n gals came from near and far to watch me stuff my face full of mini quiches and freak out over cheese boards. Mack hung up quotes about love and marriage from my plays. I received a tower of Christmas ornaments. By which I mean, BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
I don’t want to pretend to fully understand what UK’s vote to leave the EU really means for its countries, or the reasons behind deciding to leave, or stay. But: I read today that after the votes were cast and counted — google analytics revealed that A WHOLE LOT OF BRITS TOOK TO THE INTERNET TO GOOGLE ‘WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO LEAVE THE EU’ and even ‘WHAT IS THE EU?’
I will be the first to admit I am guilty of this. But also, we all are. We the people of the internets. We get riled up about things before we even fully understand them, because it’s cool to get riled up. We click and like and share but don’t take ten minutes to think deeply about what it is that we are liking / clicking / sharing. We hop on bandwagons cause there’s free drinks inside and mini quiches and old books and people with fun hats and impressive IMDBs BUT WHERE IS THE BANDWAGON GOING, EVEN? WE SHOULD KNOW. NOT YELLING AT ALL OF ENGLAND, YELLING AT MYSELF.
Cause I’m proud to be an American
where at least I know that some of my representatives care more about doing anything in their power to further secure the safety millions than sojourning early to their beach houses for the 4th of July
and I won’t forget the ones who died
BECAUSE THEY WERE SHOT BY BOTH LEGALLY AND ILLEGALLY OBTAINED ASSAULT RIFLES
and I’ll proudly sit down
next to them
and give them hugs and snacks
Cause there ain’t no doubt it’s time to push and push against that hard wall, to start taking action, to adapt with this increasingly terrifying world, and if and only IF we do, then
God Bless the USA
Is it possible to form a memory before it’s happened? LET’S TRY. Four months from today, I will be panicking in the living room of some mountain cabin, surrounded by my bestest of friends and plates of untouched cold cuts, taking in the horse themed decorations, focusing on them in hopes of focusing myself. I will step into a cloud dress, float down the mountain on a soft sea of rosé towards vows / mini quiches / my love / the rest of my life. AHHHHH / IT’S REAL IT’S REAL
32 delicious UNPRODUCED new plays by women and trans* writers. 82 Honorable Mentions.
List drop / Mic Drop.