Sunday, September 30, 2007

This is the world we live in now...

Do you really need a 250 dollar ticket?

When you can have it virtually?

Friday, September 28, 2007

not bad, for your first nervous breakdown.

He had a Turkey on his head and he was singing No, Woman, No Cry.
He had a Turkey on his head and through his clear plastic frames I could see that he was quite serious. He was rocking back and forth as if he were singing to himself. I would have thought so, if it were not for the open guitar case with pennies and dollars sitting in front of him. He was making some money.

He was drinking Vodka out of an Italian Wishbone salad dressing bottle.

He had a sticker that said Trust Snape, on his Guitar- undoubtedly a Harry Potter reference.

I pegged him for an NYU sophomore, who had just realized how ridiculous things are.

That, ladies and gentleman, is how you have a nervous breakdown.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The follow up is the hardest.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Bird

I am bringing back the finger.

Where on Earth did the finger go?

New Yorkers need the finger. In fact, I can only assume that the finger was created here. Who else would come up with such a meticulous method of communicating frustration and disgruntilation?

The eighties was big time finger time. As was the nineties.
I remember.
My mom gave everyone the finger, but, I think now, sadly, she might the only person using it.

Have we moved on to something greater.? Something with more truth?
No, we haven't. In fact, I say we're lame.
We have not benefited from the decline of the finger.

I say, let us not let the finger die. Give someone the finger today.

It is times like this when we need to preserve what we hold most dear.

Thursday, September 20, 2007



Wanna hear what I just heard?

Walking to the subway:

"Well, my friend had an abortion last summer, and I really saw, that it's not all it's cracked up to be...


Wednesday, September 19, 2007

A funny story about Kevin Klein

My sister and I were walking up to the theater where I performing on Friday Night.

We were both carrying a heap of stuff: blankets, bags, a box, and a television.

All of a sudden, Kevin Kline was there too.

Just as I normally do when I see a famous person on the street in New York City, I simply said, "hi!"

It looked like Kevin Klein was about to become one in a long line of "said hi's to", aline which includes F. Murrary Abraham, Susan Sarandon, and Al Gore.

But, instead, unsatisfied by my cursory "hi," he looks at my sister and I and all our stuff and says:

"Well, don't you two look homeless."

It was here that I started explaining to him that I was about to do my Solo Show in a theater upstairs and that he should come.

He explained that he had to go home and memorize lines for Cyrano de Bergerac.

I told him I understood.

But I tried to tempt know, Austin Pendleton directed a show that is in this festival.

He made a little bit of a face...still not sure if the face had anything to do with the festival or Austin Pendleton. Suppose the world will never know.

Then he says, "well, wait, what is the name of your show?"

To which I reply, "On how to dress your children the day you are going to pretend that they have polio."

The he says:

"'ve done that before..."

To which I blink, "Yes!! I have!!"

"Well," he says, "break a leg..."

KK, just incase you read SHAWDENFREUDE from time to time, you know, just in case, I want you to know I had a wonderful show and I'm going to come see Cyrano. Hey, haven't you done that one before?

Friday, September 14, 2007

talkin' 'bout my generation

Oh How to Dress Your Children the Day You are Going to Pretend That They Have Polio is tonight.

There is going to be a great deal of winging it.

Don't think for a second I know what I am doing. That is for professionals.

Those of you who I will see tonight, see you soon!
Those who have sent their love from afar, I love you too.

I love all you guys.

(Redundant) Love,
The soon-to-be Preacher

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Burning Man, part one

Where can you go to have your breasts painted, see/become/participate in art, sleep on a trampoline, drink free booze for five days straight, and meet a Superman from Switzerland who can break into your car?

Well, Burning Man, of course.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you have not been, we are going together next year.

Burning Man, as I have been explaining since I have returned, is a combination between a carnival, an amusement park, a gallery, a magic spell, Christmas, Hanukkah, the Rocky Horror Picture Show, camping, and an American attempt at Utopia.

Things go up in flames at Burning Man.
Things are magic petals at Burning Man.
Things are hot and dusty at Burning Man.

I fell in love on the Playa - with the Playa.
The fact that I was taken away on Sunday in a Ford Explorer bound for Los Angeles was cramped and sad compared to the love fest that Burning Man was, that the desert was.

I am very tan. I am covered in burns and cuts.
Burning Man is an intense adventure where one could be playing pool one minute and being bathed by an almost-stranger the next.

I took a magic love potion, ran away from a 17 year old who tried to kiss me, had a guy guess where I live by my zip code, saw a double rainbow, drank absinthe, survived two major dust storms, and Journeyed with a Shaman who was also giving out Sno-Cones.

Pictures soon.

I slept 17 hours yesterday.

God Bless,