You Win Snacks, You Lose Snacks. But Mostly, You Win Snacks.

I am really craving mac and cheese right now, but I don't much feel like walking to the deli. So. Ramen it is today.

I've been hard-pressed to find time to write about my own little foibles as I've attempted more and more to channel "writing time" into my writing of various fictional accounts! But I had a little breakthrough yesterday with my film scriptie and now I am timid to get back to it lest I find that my hand is stifled! And also I had a great day yesterday which I will share with you now.

I went to the Met to meet up with some friends around 7; we wanted to catch a few exhibits that were on their way out after this weekend, and I hadn't left Brooklyn since Tuesday due to a weird little stomach bug that left me couchridden with movies like


The Invention of Lying


A Room with a View


How I Got Into College


Harriet the Spy

so I got all dolled up, lace and lipstick in the style of many painted ladies, and took the rush hour train uptown. The Met is beautiful in the evening, when the big skylights can't compete with that affectatious Museum Lighting. Everything gets mad dramatic.

So I'm wandering around, looking for Karina/Taylor/R-Mard and who do I see but good ole' Nicky, bartender extraordinaire, taking a tour of the Picasso with his famiglia. It's easy to forget that Manhattan is two zillion people crammed into ten miles, and often you'll find familiar faces in odd places. I find my friends and we all bounce around, positing about crazy people that may or mayn't spit on Famous Artworks, reminiscing on that girl that fell onto The Actor, and pausing for pictures of the terracotta Face of Jacqueline. Then, a farewell to my incidental bartender bump-in and a hello to the American Woman exhibition, which is CLOTHES THROUGH THE AGES. I freaked.





Great. Then, that hipsters and handballs photography exhibit, which we chose to view because the name rings true to our interests. Then hello to dear Scoville! And some statues in that Grand Hallway. One of my favorite games is to vocalize the noises the statues' mouths were making when they were frozen in stone (that's how all the statues are made, duh). It's almost as fun as making up titles to Neil LaBute plays.



These are the Stories of Our Lives

We Once Did What We Do Now

Beethoven, or Someone Like Him

Once Upon A Time, It All Went Down

We sat on the steps after the museum closed and decided to walk through the park until they kicked us out. But hold that thought! Because here comes an empty limo who offers us a cheap ass ride back to Bushwick. So yeah. We do that instead. We go down the FDR and I look out on Roosevelt Island and that creepy TB Hospital, we roll down windows holding champagne glasses full of sprite, smokin ciggies (I smoked half of one to get the Full Experience), listening to very loud Classical Music or whatever is playing on Delilah. Pitstop at the Opera House, where we pick up Solari and Ellie, who bring us some Brasilian rum to mix with our provided Coca Cola. Five minutes more to Castlebraid. Nary does Bushwick see such style.

There was a rooftop CD release party for a great band. There is a girl who plays the violin in it, and maybe, I decide, I'll do that too. They're building a hammock space on my roof, and someone was giving away free salad. I ate that. Enter lovely Neisler! We all went down to my apartment, freestyled a bit, walked to the Opera House, and I fell asleep on the couch under the guise that I was taking a short nap. Everyone always knows it's the end for me when I decide to take a short nap. Even I know. But I do it anyway, and everybody lets me. And that's why them nap-letters are my truest, bluest friends.

I wrote this play recently that's going up as part of a short play festival that Fresh Ground Pepper is doing, called James Franco Brings the Light of God to the Linguistics Department at the University of Buffalo. I've been 'sessin' (an abbreve for "obsessing," entre it in the record!), yeah I've been sessin over James Franco since I read that New York Magazine article about him. Because he does everything he wants to. Like take a picture with a bear head, you know, 'cause. And also get like 8 masters degrees and stuff.



I've taken it to heart by deciding to do everything I want to.

For example, I'm moving to Paris, France for a month to make a bit of my screenplay. I'm going to let people read it and want to make it. And also Mary Wulihaus and I will be documenteering our visit so that people can want to make the whole process happen more often. I need to refluent my French and learn more about cameras. So I'm doing that too. And people are going to come and stay in our letted flat. All of it excites me. It will take money, which I'm saving, and Balls, which I have decided that I have.

I am going to apply those Balls to other things I want to do in the future. If I want to write a novel or novella or chapter book about this really magical day I had at my work the other day ("The ass is the best part"), if I want to start a gypsy folking edward sharpian band with whoever else wants to, if I want to write a musical with required really ugly dances or take off work to workshop plays in hilarious parts of Tisch with dear old Johnny K, if I want to ride more ferries and eat more Rockaway Tacos and make brooches a more permanent part of my existence, I probably will. If I see a piece of furniture on the street that I want to pick up, like that white wooden cabinet with the molding and the glass panels I saw on Bushwick Avenue, I probably won't pick it up because of the bed bug thing. But I will definitely note it down, remember it, and have someone build it for me later. Or I'll learn how to build it myself.

Bay Ridge Snack

A journal entry from the train ride home:

The Prince Hotel in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, New York is on 93rd Street. The streets go up-to-down rather than down-to-up in Brooklyn, so I rightly assumed I was near the water. The Verranzanzos Bridge gleamed and twinkled in the distance. I have a bad habit of grinding my teeth. I'm trying to decide if I should spend money on Ramen or wine. I want to start and finish my Picasso play in four hours because I work best with extreme deadlines. I took pictures for my boss of candlelit tables and a fake Mona Lisa. At the lounge, two guys offered to buy me wine. Fresh Blood in Bay Ridge, I guess it was pretty apparent. I declined and left the lounge only to narrowly escape being hit by a bike only to narrowly escape being hit by a car. Anyway, The Prince Hotel has a flashing sign on the roof, which I've only encountered in horror movies or my idea of horror movies. But it was real. It was festively lined with Alsatian slats. On my way home from Bay Ridge, I finished Nine Stories; "Teddy" might be the best thing I ever read

09.09.09 Snack

something changed today. in the wind. i felt it.

Also: FRESH GROUND PEPPER GOT SOME PRESS

Busyness Snack

I am flitting around breathlessly!

On a half-hour break from my one-week stint as a postcard distributor, I called my dear friend Chuck The One From Nebraska and we began organizing a last minute road trip to Arizona to visit our dear friend Amy, with a pitstop in Las Vegas to help my father with a giant athletic expo he's involved in. It seemed so impetuous that my revisionist memory of it has us screaming frantically at each other into the phone: "I'VE NEVER BEEN WEST OF COLORADO." "OF COURSE I'LL MAKE PLAYLISTS FOR THE CAR." "YES YES MY DAD WANTS US BOTH IN VEGAS BY THE 22ND THERE WILL BE SPORTS PEOPLE THERE!!!" "OKAY I'LL TALK TO YOU SOON OKAY BYE."

And then a day later, I'm cast in a show the same week as the expo and a wrench is thrown into the whole of my haphazard planning. Not really a wrench, as I fully intend to go back to Phoenix after the show is over. But no more Vegas, and probably no more road trip. It's also not really a wrench because thrown wrenches usually hold negative connotations, and I am really, really excited about this show.

And then a day later, I'm in the middle of suburban Queens holding iced tea and a pizza, rehearsing for my one-woman show in-development entitled "Carol Channing Sings Sublime's Greatest Hits and Maybe Some Songs from Les Mis" and playing the Wii and nestling Says Scoville and finally realizing after ten years that THE BUTTHOLE SURFERS sing that song about the water flowing like an avalanche, coming down the mountain!!! And falling asleep on Stevo's mom's bed.

And then a day later, quitting my job as a postcard distributor by calling 3 minutes before I'm supposed to be there. And seeing 2 of 201 shows in the New York Fringe Festival. The first one caused even Drew Vanderberg to call Scoville weird. The second had a dead thing in it. I was tickled and thrilled and prouded by both!

And then a day later, eating amuse-bouche and soft cheese and wine with an old friend/ a bookend, and making my own bruschetta. And then a day later, happy hoursing and chatting wildly. And then a day later, it's now. And I will send my script out tonight for Fresh Ground Pepper. And I will remember that if Stefan wasn't gay, he'd be Dawn's boyfriend. And I will continue to <3 symbols and collecting things from the street. And I will continue to remember why I'm here. And I will continue to hand draw birthday cards for my friends. And I will send care packages to my Amy (no candles this time), and dear AJ newly Scotlanded and my Boopsie newly colleged. And I will continue to filch fortune cookies from work that say things like

"Someone will invite you to a karaoke party."

"Your happy heart brings joy and peace where there is none."

"Your individuality provides a light to others."

"On the right track, means need to run even faster, or got run over."

Weekend Writing Retreat, Part I

Listening to a girl blow on piano. Sitting by a river in the oldest private swim club in America? There is a vending machine with 85-cent-beers. Jimmy Buffet happened, most definitely four rounds of "Margaritaville." I drank a bug, WHOOPS. Precious Boating Children. Pool, and pools. That train is SO CLOSE. TO MY BODY. I'm gonna make a shirt. The musical will probably have cooking, and most definitely love. Duh. I'm writing it. With Alyssa. And Farmer, permitting. And then there's the band, the guy whose voice I heard on a CD and in real life! The roads are mystical and surrounded by green. This is new to me, and fulfilling the lack of green in my relatively desert-focal childhood. I was very bad at soccer!

"Play TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS."

"What about WHEN I COME AROUND???"

"PLAY THE HITS."

Someone left baby powder on the side table.

"My mind is telling me yes! But my wallet! My wallet is telling me no!" - FM

That reminds me of a birthday present I was set to give and still have time to make! I will hand deliver it to Scotland, covered in brown paper, tied with a ribbon or a string of some sort.

I met a man on the side of the road. We shared Cheez-its and stories of world travel. He lives in Bordeaux, which is a wine place. I gave him my ugly business card; it was before I got my new flashy better business card.

There is a British girl who is a girlfriend, her name is Jess.

"What's the baby powder about?"

"I dunno. But I wrote about it. On my blog."

To Snack List

I have a lot of things to do. They are all sort of floating around in the ether around my brain, and occasionally I will reach out and catch one! And of course, by writing here, I am putting one or three off for a few minutes more, but what am I if not a glorious and unashamed procrastinator?

Here they are!

1) Pick up my pretty dresses from the tailor. I got some things tailed, including the Classic Freshman Year Dress.

2) Buy a GRE book. And study! I am unofficially taking the test on October 24th!



3) Three weeks to finish my screenplay. It will be so by September 1st!

4) Get ready for Philadelphia this weekend! A city I have never known! And The Prometheans, and writing and swimming and musicking.

5) Learn French again for maybe a new job!

6) See the like 8 shows my friends have in The Fringe!

7) Sort through the FGP Submissions for September! And the coming months.

8) Clean my room and get ready for a. Yael coming back! and b. my cousin Sheena visiting!

9) See one of those Cary Grant Movies at BAM

10) ____________________________________

High School Snack

I've been thinking a lot about high school. In part, I think, because a lot of my new play deals with my own perceptions about myself and relationships I have with other people. The characters in it all or mostly went to the same high school. There's the girl that is an all-angles Me: exaggerated stereotypes of myself, things I know and hate about myself, things I would be if the world were more hurdy gurdy. The Platonic Male Friend: a stock character that has always played a part in my life, from Drew and Danny when I was three years old all the way up through to the age of Sunil and Cameron and Al Petrusek into the Age of Neisler. Then, there's the Unattainable Crush: Another stock role in my life, one that plagued me heavily as I walked the halls of Mountain Pointe. He's a mixture of every sort of lovelorn misfortune from 4th grade (Austin) to 12th (Smiles McGee*).

I was so transparent! It pains me to read my old blogs. I spent half of my childhood in love with people who, very graciously, pretended that they had no idea. Saving me from myself? Perhaps. Deflection of Awkwardness? Completely.

I drunkenly went to a psychic last night with four or three of my closest platonic male friends. She said that I need to unleash myself from my negative blocks; that love might be staring me in the face and that I might not be recognizing it. I left the room and stumbled out into the street and took each one of them by the head and stared into their faces, looking for a semblance of truth in her words. An answer to her posed question. Instead, we fell into laughter, gave each other high fives, and danced our way to the train.

*Some names have been obviously changed to protect the innocent victims of my unrequited love.

War and Peace Snack

So I don't have work today, which is exciting because I also did not have work yesterday, which is exciting because I also did not have work Monday. Whoa! I'm spending my precious hours walking around outside, buying wine, seeing movies in parks, reading War and Peace, working on my research journal for a thing I'm writing, and eating delightful things.

These things include: shakes, shacks, snacks, hummus, carrots, cheese, cheese, cheese, crackers!, meats, meatballs, torts, tarts, cookies, couscous, corn, coffee.

We saw Harold and Maude on Monday. Tonight they're doing Paper Moon at Brooklyn Bridge, which is cool, but even more exciting is To Catch a Thief, which is one of my favorite movies of all time. That's next Thursday.

Right now I think I am going to watch A Room With a View which my father recommended to me yesterday after watching it with my mom:

"Our TV went out, the cable, so we've been dusting off our DVDs and watching those. A Room With a View, now there's something that was really most excellent. Helena Bonham Carter is nineteen or so, and she has so much hair, and it's puffed up like that early 1900s Edwardian, with the bonnet attached. And then there's Daniel Day-Lewis, who," he laughs, "in this movie? He's just a FOP. A giant FOP."

The Snack's the Thing

I started a new play today. There are only three pages of it. The two main characters are Anne St. Mann and Nicholas Beat. So far, nothing really weird happens save for a cat riding a tire swing. I think the play will be a tribute to great friendships between people, or what it's like living in an apartment building full of mice and crazy people, or both.

NICHOLAS BEAT
B.J. Watson is moving to the city.

Anne St. Mann gasps loudly and faints immediately.
Nicholas Beat rolls his eyes.

NICHOLAS BEAT
B.J. Watson was the love of Anne’s life
Back in high school.
He was the guy she would reorganize her between-class-walking path for
In order to get a glimpse of him in the hallway.
On a good day, she would brush his arm.
On a great day, she would make eye contact with him.
The worst days were when she was running late or when he was out sick
Or when he was walking hand-in-hand with Brooke Barnum
Of the Vancouver Barnums,
Heiress to half of the Barnum and Bailey fortune.
I mean, it’s not like a huge fortune, it’s not like she was that little
There Will Be Blood boy.
Just circus money.
But she had great hair.
And B.J. Watson had her digits in his Fave Five.
And Anne had his in hers,
Although I doubt he ever knew it.

Piano Snack

I just finished reading a play called The Harwich Piano. It is a play partially based on real events written by my friend Alex Johnson. I have a lot of questions that I want to ask him. It is a lovely and strange sort of play, with a lot of truth in its bones.

Once, I was toying with a title of a play I wrote. My choices were The Forgetting of Things and The Way It Always Will Be. I asked Alex which of the two he liked better, and he said, "Definitely the first one. The second sounds like the title of a Neil LaBute play."

Your challenge for the day: Overhear a phrase that sounds like a Neil LaBute play. Remember it. Tell it to me sometime. I've started collecting them, although I have no formal catalogue system yet; they are all over the place in this journal and that.

Chu Snack

So this kid that was on freshman crew for Peter, my quasi-4th year project at NYU, is apparently an up-and-coming New York City fashion icon. Awesome.

pic from The Sartorialist

One Snack

Tonight, I'm seeing an advance screening of Year One. I am really excited about it, but it's not until 6:45. This means I have to forge against the haze and mist-rain alone until then. And on the cheap!

Things I Might Do in the Mean Time, and On The Cheap!
1. Clean my room. I have a lot of papers and gross mist-rain clothes to deal with.
2. Eat. Yesterday I had half a strawberry crepe, some spinach dip, and morsels of other people's various leftovers (pizza, mac and cheese, pad thai, holla!)
3. Paint something ugly.
4. Write more on my Twitter play, or do some Black Canyon revisos.
5. Jog. PSYCHE! But, for serious, around Jackie O's Reservoir with the moms and the business-men and the other overall grownups? Intriguing.
6. Watch my Netflix, which has been The Last King of Scotland for like three weeks now.
7. Go buy more of those Blue Bottles in Queens. This, however, would mean money. Hm.
8. Set up a Twitter account. Is that free?
9. Read that book. The one on my messy desk!
10. Take a nap. I only fell asleep at 6:30!
11. Write a letter to a deserving friend! Maybe I'll draw a name from a hat.
12. Listen to the weird Russian CDs I found in the street!

Cheese Snack

I just spent the last four hours alternating between cheese and pork while finishing my play. A reading of it happens on Saturday. You Can Inform Yourself of it Here; I am pretty stoked.

In other news,

These are Things my Boyfriend Doesn't Like Wearing:


Fedoras

Baggy Jeans

Boo

In other other news, my computer is really old. And Life is Crazy.

Magical Real Snack

I owe a lot to this guy:



Without him, the kinds of things that I write would raise multitudes of skeptic-brows. I don't know much about him, though. There's a whole bunch of links to Marquez interviews and stuff that the Flavorpill people put in my inbox. I am very interested in these! I guess there is a new biography about him by Gerald Martin that just came out. I might pick it up and read it alongside Love in the Time of Cholera, which, like my mother, I still haven't finished.

Other things I have inherited from my mother:
parking skills (read: lack thereof)





Shelley told me about a Steinbeck journal that's half-journal and process notes and half Grapes of Wrath so you read the musings and the final product side-by-side. I am very interested in this also! I am normally a huge fan of really fat books, although I frickin hated Grapes of Frickin Wrath and pretty much everything else by Steinbeck in High School. I might give it another try.

You know what I will never try again? The Scarlet Fucking Letter.

Procrastisnack

I have a play to write!

And I'm not writing it!

The first read-through is on Sunday. We have just secured the cast and it's going up as part of the breedingground Spring Fever Festival. It's part of their Groundworks Series, or plays-that-need-development-and-readings. It's happening at The Robert Moss Theater, nee Linhart. On June 6th.



I am very honored to be one of the puzzle pieces of this Fest!

In other news, I am going home next week to see this guy



Speak for these kids




And! Then I get to see my Boopsie Brother graduate high school! Watch for him on this show next week:




Finally, Fresh Ground Pepper, the new works series I co-founded, got a plug on BACKSTAGE.COM! Thanks Preston! I am seeing your show on Sunday!

ElsewhereSnack

I might apply to this.

I love bric-a-brac!

Online JournalSnack

I just rediscovered my OpenDiary from high school. WHOA. It's pretty rough to revisit! Also hilarious!

I have always been a fiend of the online journaling persuasion. I jumped from the OpenDiary (2001-2005? Okay so apparently I wrote an entry or two in college. Woof.) to a blog entitled "It's a Great Day for Baseball," (2002-2006) which still has a URL but for some reason you cannot see any of the backlogged entries. And then I went from that into livejournal (2003-2009), which still very much exists, although I don't write in it very much at all.

I wish I remembered some of those passwords! I want to like bring all of the private and public entries together and bind them into a book to give my hormonal teenage daughter as proof that she's not, nor ever was, the Only One Who Feels This Way.

And No, I will not provide links to you.

(me and my brother circa 2004, eating at P.F. Chang's)

Black Canyon Snackies

Things:

-an old tonic bottle
-a phonograph
-some twiney webs
-a rocking chair
-a cake
-a corncob pipe
-candles
-a lock box

A dream song:

Opening Thursday Snack

visit http://thecentrifugeny.blogspot.com for Ticket information.