I was reading a profile on playwright David Ives, and he said that he thinks Aristotle once said that witty people are witty because they are melancholy.

This is true. Witty people use comedy as a coping mechanism for their traumatic childhood!

Then he talks about what its like to write comedy:

Writing comedy is partly one way of amusing oneself. Cheering yourself up. Here you are, sitting in a room all alone…you might as well have a witty conversation as a serious one.

Sooooo I’m working on a new play! And I hate telling people I’m working on a play because this inevitably leads to them asking “What’s it about?” and you end up looking like a fool because you have a nebulous idea in your head but you’re ill equipped for those ideas to take shape and come out of your mouth. And you give an answer that’s sorta like “Well, it’s about this girl who has to, like, figure stuff out…”

So forming these nebulous ideas have consumed most of my free time– and my blogging time–which explains my lack of contact with the outside world. I like to get up around six, when it’s still dark out and too early to check your email, work on a few scenes, drink a cup of coffee, take a shower, edit those scenes in my head while I’m showering and end up forgetting if I shampooed or not, and then come out and edit those scenes and make it out the door for work. If I’m not tired in the evenings, then I’ll work on it some more.

And what is this all for? Who knows. I’m gonna take an existentialist approach and trust that this will all have meaning in the end.

I went shopping yesterday and bought a ridiculously extravagant blazer. It’s beautiful. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. I put it on and I instantly felt like a rapscallion! Anyway, I bought it as a promise to myself to keep writing. Most people like to reward themselves AFTER they’ve accomplished something and I like to buy items for incentive. Whatevs.

Oh, and I treated myself because I’ve been feeling like utter poop the past couple of days. I went to Suffern on Saturday and came back to the city with a horrible welt on the back of my leg. I figured it was just a bad reaction to a mosquito bite. Maybe the mosquitos in Suffern are just mosquitos ON STEROIDS. But the next morning the rash had spread so I went to see my doctor and he told me it was a tick bite.

A TICK!!!

This is why I loathe nature.

So he prescribed me an ointment that is usually given to people with staph infections and some antibiotics. Oh, and these are the same antibiotics that are used to treat chlamydia and gonorrhea. Ho ho ho. If I had an std and didn’t know then this would be a great way of killing two birds with one stone!

And a note to future guys who may come into my bedroom: The antibiotics are for a tick bite! Okay? Tick. Not dick.

Moving on…


I spent two nights in Park Slope last week to celebrate the first year of Park Slope Night!

Park Slope night consists of me and Sabbie having crazy shenanigans in Brooklyn. On Thursday night we managed to drink a bottle of wine each before 9 PM. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant nearby and caused such madcap pandemonium that the next night we walked past it and the host recognized us and asked if we’d like our “regular table.”

Later we went to Barbes where there were only like 4 people in the entire bar. We went to the piano and played Chopsticks. Sabs kept calling the bartender Alfredo even though his name is like Frank or something. Then she lit a receipt on fire. Then she made me do a lemon drop shot (which I don’t remember doing) I don’t remember coming back to her place and that is because I was sleepwalking. Sabs had to literally undress me and change me into pajamas. The only problem was that she couldn’t figure out how to unzip my outfit and she kept asking how to do it and all I did was roll my head and go back to sleep (this is not unlike how I interact with guys I bring home LYLAS).

Then the next night we went to Moto in Williamsburg and listened to Dixie Land whilst drinking wheat beers and eating creamy mashed potatas. Then we went to Union Hall in Park Slope and played bocce ball and ended up being the last two people at the bar.

Anyway, it was very fun to have those two rambunctious nights only to have them bite me in the ass at the end of the weekend. Literally. But I think it’s good. I needed a bite in the ass to get me back to work. And the good thing about being on antibiotics is that I can’t drink for two weeks. Yeah, the only way I will abstain from drinking is for medical purposes.

And then yesterday I got this random phone call from an unknown number and usually I don’t pick up numbers I don’t recognize (god knows how many random people I am avoiding) but for some reason I answered it. And it turned out to be this woman I babysat for all throughout college. Her husband is a theater producer and currently getting a play on Broadway. And her first question was, “Are you writing a play?”

It was great to hear from her. I hadn’t seen or talked to her in about seven years. She said her daughter and her friends still talk about me. And now her daughter is applying to college. EGADS! I feel old. I remember when I helped her with her multiplication homework and now she’s doing her SATs.

Anyway, I’m gonna take her phone call as a sign from the universe. That maybe I’m on the right track? Maybe I am meant to write this play? And maybe one day I can actually say “I’m a genius!” without a hint of irony?

Haha okay I won’t get ahead of myself.

So I’m not sure how often I’ll be bloggin now but if you haven’t already you should sign up for my feed. That way you’ll save time and you won’t have to keep checking back to see if I’ve updated anything. Actually, it’s more for my sake and I won’t feel bad for not updating.

Till we blog again. LYLAS!