Two Guys at the Gym
Guy 1: I made steak, carne asada, and sloppy Joe's
Guy 2: did you get a colonoscopy after that? That's a lot of meat.
Guy 1: I like dark meat. But you know that. Remember.
Guy 2: I am trying to forget.
Guy 1: then you must've bumped your head.
Guy2: I did. Running out of the room, away from you.
Guy 1: well l bumped your head against a wall. But that was in church.
Guy 2: ....
SUBWAY
A homeless couple shoved their carts onto the subway and pushed a black woman in front of me.
HER: Crazy ppl are following me around today. I can't wait to get home. I'm nice until ppl aren't nice to me.
ME: You gotta protect yourself.
HER: I know how to do that. I was in the military.
ME: Army, Navy. Air Force?
HER: Army. I was in Baghdad. 2003.
ME: What was that like?
HER: Hell. It was like in the movies: explosions, bodies in the street, fire fights.
ME: IED?
HER: Yes. I saw one of my friends get his head cut off.
*subway stop*
HER: All right, this is my stop. Have a good night.
"Everyone is sucking white d*%k in Hollywood."
- movie exec at dinner (they said I could quote them.)
Hurricane Prep
Me: We need some sort of hurricane system that can bring up a wall of cool water up to the ocean's surface. Maybe that would weaken a hurricane.
Mom: There should be a way to build a mobile cool mountain in the ocean, and when a hurricane comes you just raise up the mountain and bust up the storm.
Me: ...isn't that a beer commercial?
"Who represents Victor Hugo?"
-an agent running down the hallway
sitcom idea
neurotically high-strung Sean Spicer is about to settle into his petite Boca Raton condo with shag carpeting in the sunken living room when *KNOCK KNOCK*...who is there? It's the flip-flop wearing, Trump towel boy and national air guitar qualifier: Anthony Scaramucchi!! A corrupt realtor sold both disgraced WH staffers the same condo before declaring bankruptcy. It looks like Spicer's 'quiet and peaceful' retirement is about to take a Mooch-Turn. But wait, the Scara-Sean duo start getting visits every week from a recently fired/resigned White House staffers and EPA 'egg-head' scientists who are trying to get back on their feet... and warn of the 'end times.' The pad becomes a detox/recovery half-way house and party pad for Mooch's air guitar rock band "Why Did I Sell My Company and Abandon My Pregnant Wife For This Terrible Terrible Fate, Hootie?" Mooch and Spicey help rehabilitate the bruised and battered DC elites in between arguments over who ate the last frozen pizza and trying to figure out if this the eco-apocalypse? But if this is going to be the end of the planet, Spicey-Mooch discover that there is nowhere else they'd rather meet their gruesomely hilarious demise...than in each other's arms (Awwwww....shit). "Two Men and a Condo."
Elizabeth Kemp: Eulogy
Rest in peace to one of the best teachers of art and life. Elizabeth Kemp was my first-year acting professor. She taught me and a bunch of other ragtag actors, writers, and directors new to NYC. Her classes delved into animal work, circle/mirror dance, private moments, sense memory, green light, and our own personal loss and betrayal that was buried under layers of armor. I found her method to be devastating, transformational, therapeutic, maddening, inspiring. Students would break down in her class, and it was't because she was cruel or abusive or demanding some emotional exhibitionism for credit. We would break down because she set the space for us to be honest with ourselves. It was a space where we could let our guard down, and that's when the emotional floodgates would burst open into pain, rage, laughter, joy, and ecstasy. I performed a painting monologue inspired by a Van Gogh self-portrait which diverged off into my own abuse and voyeurism. I and other students shared private moments that we had kept secret from our closest friends and family in that class. Next door, actors were raging and unleashing themselves in rehearsal for a new Stephen Adly Guirgis play: "Our Lady of 121st Street." The space was teeming with that sort of NYC raw vitality and newness. The green light meditation physiologically changed me. It altered me and maybe it's the reason I went from being an atheist to a Buddhist. I saw how applied spirit could change my own mind and the world by watching Elizabeth Kemp. Thank you Master, Professor, soul sister, warrior, actor, therapist, soothsayer, storyteller, director, poet, dancer, and artist. We love you Elizabeth.
Guy 1: I made steak, carne asada, and sloppy Joe's
Guy 2: did you get a colonoscopy after that? That's a lot of meat.
Guy 1: I like dark meat. But you know that. Remember.
Guy 2: I am trying to forget.
Guy 1: then you must've bumped your head.
Guy2: I did. Running out of the room, away from you.
Guy 1: well l bumped your head against a wall. But that was in church.
Guy 2: ....
****
SUBWAY
A homeless couple shoved their carts onto the subway and pushed a black woman in front of me.
HER: Crazy ppl are following me around today. I can't wait to get home. I'm nice until ppl aren't nice to me.
ME: You gotta protect yourself.
HER: I know how to do that. I was in the military.
ME: Army, Navy. Air Force?
HER: Army. I was in Baghdad. 2003.
ME: What was that like?
HER: Hell. It was like in the movies: explosions, bodies in the street, fire fights.
ME: IED?
HER: Yes. I saw one of my friends get his head cut off.
*subway stop*
HER: All right, this is my stop. Have a good night.
****
"Everyone is sucking white d*%k in Hollywood."
- movie exec at dinner (they said I could quote them.)
****
Hurricane Prep
Me: We need some sort of hurricane system that can bring up a wall of cool water up to the ocean's surface. Maybe that would weaken a hurricane.
Mom: There should be a way to build a mobile cool mountain in the ocean, and when a hurricane comes you just raise up the mountain and bust up the storm.
Me: ...isn't that a beer commercial?
****
"Who represents Victor Hugo?"
-an agent running down the hallway
****
sitcom idea
neurotically high-strung Sean Spicer is about to settle into his petite Boca Raton condo with shag carpeting in the sunken living room when *KNOCK KNOCK*...who is there? It's the flip-flop wearing, Trump towel boy and national air guitar qualifier: Anthony Scaramucchi!! A corrupt realtor sold both disgraced WH staffers the same condo before declaring bankruptcy. It looks like Spicer's 'quiet and peaceful' retirement is about to take a Mooch-Turn. But wait, the Scara-Sean duo start getting visits every week from a recently fired/resigned White House staffers and EPA 'egg-head' scientists who are trying to get back on their feet... and warn of the 'end times.' The pad becomes a detox/recovery half-way house and party pad for Mooch's air guitar rock band "Why Did I Sell My Company and Abandon My Pregnant Wife For This Terrible Terrible Fate, Hootie?" Mooch and Spicey help rehabilitate the bruised and battered DC elites in between arguments over who ate the last frozen pizza and trying to figure out if this the eco-apocalypse? But if this is going to be the end of the planet, Spicey-Mooch discover that there is nowhere else they'd rather meet their gruesomely hilarious demise...than in each other's arms (Awwwww....shit). "Two Men and a Condo."
****
Elizabeth Kemp: Eulogy
Rest in peace to one of the best teachers of art and life. Elizabeth Kemp was my first-year acting professor. She taught me and a bunch of other ragtag actors, writers, and directors new to NYC. Her classes delved into animal work, circle/mirror dance, private moments, sense memory, green light, and our own personal loss and betrayal that was buried under layers of armor. I found her method to be devastating, transformational, therapeutic, maddening, inspiring. Students would break down in her class, and it was't because she was cruel or abusive or demanding some emotional exhibitionism for credit. We would break down because she set the space for us to be honest with ourselves. It was a space where we could let our guard down, and that's when the emotional floodgates would burst open into pain, rage, laughter, joy, and ecstasy. I performed a painting monologue inspired by a Van Gogh self-portrait which diverged off into my own abuse and voyeurism. I and other students shared private moments that we had kept secret from our closest friends and family in that class. Next door, actors were raging and unleashing themselves in rehearsal for a new Stephen Adly Guirgis play: "Our Lady of 121st Street." The space was teeming with that sort of NYC raw vitality and newness. The green light meditation physiologically changed me. It altered me and maybe it's the reason I went from being an atheist to a Buddhist. I saw how applied spirit could change my own mind and the world by watching Elizabeth Kemp. Thank you Master, Professor, soul sister, warrior, actor, therapist, soothsayer, storyteller, director, poet, dancer, and artist. We love you Elizabeth.
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