That Last Post Gave Me a Joke Idea:

1840,  Russia. 

Four men sit together in an ale house. 

Haggard Russian #1: You guys remember the days when we would ask a question... and we didn't have the answer right in front of us?

Haggard Russian #2: Yes, yes.  You had to go home to your encyclopedias, or ask around to your smartest friends. 

Haggard Russian #1: Life was so much harder then before we met our new friend.  Now we just ask Gogol.

Gogol, the 4th man, shrugs.

Haggard Russian #3: The man knows everything. 

Boring Technology Thoughts

I won't bore you with all the "how our brains are changing because of cell phones and constant information!!!" observations.  I just simply want to say that I re-read all the Harry Potters recently, and it struck me as so sad that had those books been written just five years later, all the wizards would have cell phones.  With all their magic they posses, their only mode of communication was owl letters (very primitive  or both you and the person you needed to connect with had to be in front of fire to talk.   I'm glad J.K. decided to not even include cell phones in her later books, even though every kid had them by then.  Seriously, every major moment in that book could have been prevented had they had text messages.  How are wonderful stories going to be told anymore?  What are going to happen to all the merry mishaps?  They are so easily avoidable in this constantly connected world.... it makes me sad.

I also constantly wonder if other people have the ONE thing they've thought of since they were little on the subject of "what if people back then had what we have now."  Because I've had the same one since third grade.  Mine is... the Nurse or the Friar could have called Romeo and told him "She's just pretending."  That's always what I think of.  Which makes no sense.  Because they never lived.

Stand-Ups

What I hate.  Maybe more than anything in the world.  Maybe more than the movie "Wedding Crashers."  Is sitting in the audience of a comedy club, listening to a comedian telling a "dirty joke" you've heard 100,000 times, and they get mad at you because they assume you're not laughing because you're a prude or insulted.  And not because it's just not funny, stupid, unoriginal.  My jaw shakes in rage just thinking about it.
No, I can't say any more on this topic because I'm too mad just thinking about it.  I should also note that I haven't seen a comedy show since like, November.  It's still rattling in me.

Dead Squirrels

I think a out this all the time.  Why don't you see dead squirrels around that died of natural causes?  The ones that, old and wise, sitting on a branch.... Pass in the wind.  Their eyes close and having led a full life... They fall from their branch, and tumble to the ground.... Completely at peace.  I've never seen a squirrel not dead from its skull crushing under the weight of a vehicle or it's innards ripped to shreds by a wild dog.

Get on that, Ellen.

I Have 3 Years Left!!!!

Blogging has become so difficult.  I no longer have interesting thoughts.  Something I read recently (a nonfiction book called "Imagine") told me that creativity peaks when you are exactly 30 years old.  Apparently, that is why so many great artistic geniuses create their "masterpieces" around their 20's, and can never really reclaim that artistry no matter how old and sage they become.  I don't want to believe this, but it feels true.  How awesome was "The Shining?"  When was the last one of his 1,000 books he wrote even close to "The Shining?"  When was the last time Sam Shepard wrote something like "Lie of the Mind?"  No matter how depressing it seems, you can't help but look at the facts.  According to history, it looks pretty true.  At least, as far as writers go.  That's mostly what I am basing this current conundrum on.  So if this is true, that means I have exactly 3 years (4 if this truth counts for the entire 30th year) to create the best things in my life.  And the sad thing is, I look at this not with fear, but with hope.  If you would have asked me three years ago when I was moving from Chicago to L.A. what would happen in a year or so, I would have said, "Oh, I don't know where I'll be in my career, but I am pretty sure I would have written something very, very good."  That has yet to happen.  I keep thinking I'm going to write something "very, very good" any second now.  So I do things like (see post below) that I think have the potential to be wonderful.  But usually, they simply result in strangeness. And result in finished projects that quietly sleep under my bed.  Because I know they aren't my masterpiece.  And who wants to come out of the unknown-writer-closet with anything less than a masterpiece?

PS. Stephen King and Stephen Hawking look extremely similar, right?

Sam Amidon

I contacted this man whose CD's you might have heard in my car.  I want to write a play that is very, very loosely based John Steinbeck (my favorite American novelist)'s book "East of Eden."  I want this guy to help me write it, and for him to let me use his music in it.  What a long stretch, right?   Let's see if it comes to fruition, shall we?

Tell me if this doesn't scream moving out West and reading Steinbeck and folk-y love.
Here he is in concert with one of my favorite songs:

Bekah Brunstetter, can you "The Secret" this for me?

Matt and Ben

I am doing this play.
I also am still working on "The Haunted Hathaways," a Nickelodeon show.
I have nothing to blog-write about!!! Or, for that matter, write-write about.
I sit in a room all day and make jokes, so I have no real-life jokes to make.... 

So this is all I have today:

What I just walked into the writers' room to hear: 

"What would it be like to be in a washing machine also with vomit."