Comedy Bentral

Robots in Disguise

2009-04-06T18:35:00.000-04:00

Turn Your Oughts into Shalls, Man

2009-02-27T11:28:00.002-05:00

A few days ago I woke up from a dream laughing.

In the dream I was sitting at a dinner table with God and an invented daughter of God. God's daughter was talking about an essay she had written.
"Yeah, it wasn't really that good-- there were lots of oversights in it," she said.
Then God interjected, "But honey, tell him about how good the essay was when you were finished working on it."
God's daughter sighed. "Well, in the end the essay was perfect. Because my dad has magical powers and he edited it for me."

But I Needed to Look Down

2008-09-08T15:45:00.001-04:00

Dear Large Hadron Collider,

How are you? Excited, I’m sure, to be turned on late Tuesday night. I think that’s great. I think it’s great that they’re going to put you into action and that you might help us to know more of the secrets of the universe (like what dark matter is, whether there are other dimensions, and what the validity to the big bang theory is). I’m excited to know more about those things too.

I do have a concern though. It has been acknowledged that you have the potential to create black holes. Some scientists say that those black holes will not plausibly have the substantiality to survive. The black holes, they say, will flicker in and out like a candle’s flame. Other scientists, however, are worried that the black holes you create will swallow the earth, the universe, and everyone I know with them.

So that’s why I’m writing to you—I was wondering if there’s any way possible that you could make sure you don’t do the thing those second scientists think you’re going to. The reason being that I’m in love with the world right now and I think if you give it the chance it will show you some amazing things in the next decades. We’re in the middle of an election, LHC, and America is about to get the chance to redeem itself. Give it that chance. What happened in 2004 seemed like a vote for insanity (if you define insanity as the repetition of something that’s not working). Give us humans the chance to vote for change.

I’m in the middle of discovering what I want to do with my life, LHC, and it’s really exciting to me. I’m finding out that I’m passionate about playwriting and about making children’s books and about improvisation. I would hate it if you made us go to sleep early before I get a chance to write any of my picture books or plays or get to do any really good scenes.

I’m having so much fun with my friends, LHC, and I even feel like I was called to Chapel Hill so that I could meet these people. Don’t you think it would be more beautiful to make a vote for the idea of destiny. If you don’t blow us up then we’ll all know that our friendships really were meant to be (instead of designating them pointless due to brevity).

I love my family, LHC, and though I used to think the best way for us to go would be together, I can no longer really stand the idea of any of us going at all. I’m not done playing scrabble with my mom. I’m not done staying up late talking with my dad. And I’m not done getting beaten by my sister Sandy in Wii Tennis.

Finally, I’d really like to see what it’s like to spend the rest of my life with a girl I’m in love with, LHC. I’d really like to find out how I end up proposing to her and know what our children are like and get to see what our old person hands look like holding each other. Do we get to have a dog or a cat? Where do our children go to school? I want to find these things out someday very very badly.

So you do what you have to LHC, but please remember, if you refrain from ending everything for everyone I’ll owe you a really really big one.

Love,

Ben Greene (Human and Student)

How Much Do You Already Know About Forty-Second Street?

2008-03-03T15:03:00.004-05:00

I recently discovered how the predictive text function on my cell phone works. I used to misunderstand it. I would try to use it and spell "Medannt" when I meant to spell "Meant". That's cause I was still pressing the 3 button twice for E, instead of once, understanding that my phone could predict what my word would be.

Now that I know how to work it, I'm digging the words I get to watch form on my way towards the word I want. The phone doesn't know until the "T" in "Mustache" that I'm not spelling "Our." If I went to tell someone my computer has "Crashed", the phone considers the possibility that my computer has "Bra" and "Asap"ed before it figures out what I really want.

My favorite so far: It's impossible to text the word "Infinity" without "God" showing up first.

And Don't Call Me Shirley, Airplane

2007-06-26T10:38:00.000-04:00

Our improv group made it into the Del Close Marathon at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre! Click on our noseless faces for the very exciting details.

Never Get So Attached to a Poem You Forget Truth, It Lacks Lyricism

2007-04-07T16:27:00.000-04:00

"The Carrboro government does not sanction the distribution of food at this event. Do not sue them or expect them to share food with you. Eat at your own risk. Be governed at your own risk."
-A sign at Carrboro's Really Free Market

Some Come to Stare, Some to Stay

2007-03-08T14:24:00.000-05:00

UNcalled For

The next Nikita Krushchev

Nothing Ever Happened Underground

2007-03-04T02:43:00.000-05:00

"A child said it and it seemed true, things that are lost are all equal, but it isn't true."
-Marvin Bell

Once Outside, the Brightness Blinded Her

2007-03-04T02:40:00.000-05:00

I think if you play your cards right life can be a process of becoming less and less embarrassed by yourself.

Earlier today I sorted through the archives of this blog and erased the entries that make me uncomfortable. Some were badly written, others vain. A few neglected this blog’s public nature. I’ve saved the entries on my computer, allowing them to remain private (rather than public) reminders of how lame I’ve sometimes been.

It's The Holidays, We Can Order Anything

2007-01-26T15:55:00.000-05:00

Shame

My roommates are drunks. Angry drunks.

When Suddenly There Came a Knocking At Their Door

2007-01-03T20:07:00.000-05:00

A little while ago I announced the establishment of my dad’s blog, bensdads.blogspot.com. The blogging community rejoiced. ‘Finally,” they exclaimed, “a companion blog to the always entertaining anotherkindofblue.blogspot.com” (Sarah’s dad’s blog). But, after two weeks of active posting it seemed that my dad had grown tired of the site.

He hadn’t. In the last month he has (until now, secretly) posted thrice! Go ahead check for yourselves: bensdads.blogspot.com. Revamped and Revitalized. READ!!

What More Is Tomorrow Than Another Day

2007-01-03T00:48:00.000-05:00

This is my family. They're what keeps me coming back to New York.

How Do You Say It, Boet Sam? Let's Dream.

2007-01-02T18:29:00.000-05:00

People feel a lot of things for their friends. But I get to feel something for my friends, on a daily basis, that I think is rare. Pride. I get to feel this because my friends are relentlessly doing exceptional things.

Some of them are directing shows (that NEED to be directed) in two and a half weeks. Some of them are majoring in environmental studies just to save the earth. Some of them stand in front of a four-hundred person audience until every person is happy. Some of them refuse baby-sitting money just to show their love for the little girl they’re babysitting. And some of them were on the radio last Wednesday to perform poetry.

Okay, one of them was. Sarah M’in F’in Kay. Sarah performed two poems on WBAI’s City Watch: Subway and Jellyfish. She did both beautifully. On the show, Sarah kept the company of two-time National Slam Champion Roger Bonair-Agard and Bob Holman, “a central figure in the reemergence of poetry in our culture”. Holman, Bonair-Agard, and Kay are all Def Poets.

You can listen to the episode of City Watch, Sarah was on, here.

An Idea Is A Greater Monument Than a Cathedral

2006-12-31T19:46:00.000-05:00

THAT was a really great year

That's So Phones

2006-12-30T04:33:00.000-05:00

When President Ford died, earlier this week, I did not have a strong reaction. Earlier tonight, when I heard that they had executed Sadam Hussein, I let out a yelp of horror. Is that weird?

Halom Halamti V'ay-nehni Yodea Mah Hu

2006-12-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

When I go through a Metal Detector I try to appear aloof. My hope is that feigned innocence will decrease my odds of beeping. I am, however, not afraid to beep. I invite investigation; I feel guilty until proven innocent.

Earlier today, I earned my way into 60 Centre Street by passing the Detector’s test. I must have stood under this ceiling, in awe, for fifteen minutes.

And No Dreams To Frighten Me Anymore

2006-12-15T00:41:00.000-05:00

I was in an Emergency Room and my hands were covered in paint. This was my Tuesday morning; I was with a girl from my art class who had accidentally cut into her finger with an exacto knife. An ex-Mormon stared at me from across the room. And I knew that in three hours I had to hand in my Art portfolio. The only comforting words that walked through my head were, “In one hundred years none of this will matter.”

Two hours later I taped compositions that, for a semester, had been on the wall of my room into a giant portfolio. My walls didn’t see their art compiled, they were elsewhere looking stained and lonely. And I sang or asked a Rufus Wainright song. “Why am I always on a plane or a fast train? Oh what a world my parents gave me… Always… Traveling.”

Cheri, Eske-w Pa Ka Kon-prann Bagay Ki Pa Senp?

2006-12-11T02:12:00.000-05:00

"I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, and porcelain."
-John Adams (1780)

Sounds Like Your Trying To Save Him From God Not For God

2006-12-07T21:59:00.000-05:00

Tonights post will begin with insteads. It will conclude with a quote:

Instead of sleeping Monday night, I painted a ship's wheel.
Instead of studying, today, I auditioned for a play.
Instead of breathing Wednesday afternoon, I practiced Improv with my roommates.

“If you’re religious, pray for us. If you’re not religious- get some religion.”
-Dr. Rachel Willis

Every Moment Was A Moment, Yeah

2006-12-05T06:55:00.000-05:00

I just had deja vu like you wouldn't believe.

Just one fucking thing after another.

The World And I Have Been On Very Intimate Terms

2006-12-04T11:51:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I forget what words mean. Like ALARM (a-larm (uh-lahrm)):

-Noun

1. a sudden fear or distressing suspense caused by an awareness of danger; apprehension; fright.

2. any sound, outcry, or information intended to warn of approaching danger: Paul Revere raced through the countryside raising the alarm that the British were coming.

To incorporate an alarm clock into one's day is to make one's day into approaching danger. Yesterday my mom woke me up. Today I woke myself up. And on both occasions when I went back to sleep my dreams were beautiful.

I Will Not Let Thee Go, Except Thou Bless Me

2006-11-30T23:45:00.000-05:00

Anyone who has ever had anything to do with currency owes it to themselves to see:
Lab! Theatre's Production of The Visit
Friday, December 1st- Tuesday, December 5th

A show about money that doesn't cost money (AKA Admission is free).

The King I See Inside

2006-11-26T20:46:00.000-05:00

"Sitting in the computer lab,
4 A.M. before the final paper is due,
Cursing the world 'cause I didn't start sooner,
And seeing the rest of the class there, too!"
-Avenue Q

Two years ago I didn't believe this lyric. As I finished my last paper of my high school career, on April 27th, 2005, I thought, 'That's it. The last paper I'll ever write.' And my mind entertained those words with conviction.

As it turns out college is just High School 2: This Time It's Personal.

I Let My Music Take Me Where My Heart Wants To Go

2006-11-25T01:20:00.000-05:00

I’ve always looked for Narnia in the same place: the closet in my parent’s bedroom.

After squeezing through a row of suit jackets, I would shuffle at the wall hoping it would give way. Sometimes Sandy would come with me and together we would hope that something had changed. It never has before.

This afternoon I signaled my mom over to the closet. We had just finished watching the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so she knew what I was doing. To be fair, she would have known regardless. When I hit the wall my mom laughed. As I came back into the light she explained to me, with love, that “You can’t look for Narnia. You have to find it by accident.”

Appropriate

2006-11-21T15:24:00.000-05:00

The Thanksgiving Day Parade has a unique coldness.

It's a Central Park Cold. A 10 AM cold. A hot chocolate cold.
A laughing cold. A rubbing-each-others-necks cold. A jumping cold.
A playful cold. A careless cold. It's an almost-Christmas cold.

There are few places you can't return to when you get older that are more beautiful than an older cousin's shoulders at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Sure, there are mountains that have better views but they don't tease you about how heavy you are. There are towers that will get you higher but they won't squeeze your legs. And while a chair may be more comfortable, good luck trying to get a chair to laugh when you cover its eyes again.

It's one of the reasons I'm excited to have children. I'm bringing them into a world that, for one morning a year, has a Thanksgiving Day Parade cold.

Sundays Disappearing All the Time

2006-11-20T03:37:00.000-05:00

I miss Sandy.

You Watch As I Revise the World

2006-11-20T03:18:00.000-05:00

Life is unrelentingly surprising. Three hours ago I would not have guessed that I would be going to sleep happy tonight. As it turns out Hope is my next door neighbor. And I love him.

I'm Thanksful

2006-11-11T19:24:00.000-05:00

Less than two weeks ago I was here:

Less than eight hours from now I will be here:

And tonight I get to do this:

Milpool

2006-11-10T17:07:00.000-05:00

And the score of today's Wiffleball game:

Reid- 21
Ben- 3*

*Sort of.

20 Percent

2006-11-07T00:41:00.000-05:00

Before I was born God asked me
What level
I wanted to play life this time.

“9,”
I said.

“Level 9,”
Mused God, “The bricks fall pretty fast.”
“Well yeah,” I said,
“But I also want the biggest rocket ship.”

I'll Be With You In Apple Blossom Time

2006-11-02T00:37:00.000-05:00

COLLABORATIVE POST BY JOSH SHARP AND BEN GREENE

The Launchpad

A One Act Play by Josh Sharr* and Ben Greene

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

DEL- A balding gent with one balled fist continually holding up his chin.
NOVA- A brunette of twenty two years, long eyelashes, and an aqualine nose.
THOMAS- Just a turd. A real turd. You don't want to have this guy at your party.

Just a bed

NOVA: A new day.
DEL: [gently stroking her eyelashes] Dawn. At last.
NOVA: And what does this new dawn bring?
DEL: Cognizance. Light. Clarity. And a sinking feeling in my chest.
NOVA: Why- why that?
DEL: Because I know at some point Thomas will speak. And this most beautiful moment will be broken forever.
NOVA: [notices Thomas] Oh my.
THOMAS: [awakening] What's that smell? Did you guys do it?
DEL and NOVA: Fuck.

Fin

*Not a misspelling- Josh Sharp's penname

I Threw A Pebble In A Brook And Watched the Ripples Run Away And They Never Made A Sound

2006-10-31T02:53:00.000-05:00

13- I flew over New York City in a helicopter. I hoped that a truck would hit our car and I would die. I was elected Student Council Representative for my class (with Jessica Stephens). I memorized the poem Jabberwocky. I spent a month in China visiting my best friend, Mark Judd. Nadja Spiegelman talked to me again. My family found a bed and breakfast where the time is always Twenty to Six. I had a very romantic online relationship with Frankie Thomas and then tried to meet her and then when I did mostly quivered. My favorite movie was Star Wars: Episode Six. I figured out that it might be a good idea to start my homework every night at 2 AM (it wasn’t). I listened to the musical 1776 over and over again I told Karel Teifer that he was my best friend. And my life was saved by shards of light moving through drops of rain clinging to my bedroom window.

14- I told my friends that I had kissed a girl before but I hadn’t. I became vaguely conscious of a girl in M3 (7th Grade) named Sarah Kay. I continued to love being in my home. I auditioned for LaGuardia High School’s Drama program. I spent many nights at Morton Globus’ Union Square apartment. I spent entire days at the Museum of Television and Radio. Nadja and I became real friends again (I asked her out on instant messenger and she said a very sweet no). I celebrated my fourteenth beautiful Christmas at 15 West 72nd Street. I thought when I grew up I might do something with computers. My writing-style changed. And I invented the self-watering plant, a plant that waters itself when it needs to be watered

15- I got up the courage to ask whether I could sit at the table that Melanie Jacobson and Karim Reggae were sitting at. Mr. Banton asked me if I would direct a show called The Refund. My grandmother (Betty Rabbit) died. I learned something about the way the world works when, two days after September 11th, it was the Muslim kids who were crying. I had my first kiss (on September 1st) with my first girlfriend. I gave a eulogy at my great-grandmother (Mommer Belle’s) funeral. I played my last year of baseball in the Peter Stuyvesant Little League. I gave up Coke and lost 15 pounds that have never returned. I went to a Renaissance Fair. I sang as a tenor with the UNIS Senior Chorus. And I went through an entire summer at USDAN Arts Camp without a drop of rain until the last day when there was a monsoon and a rainbow.

Teach Your Babies Songs of Love Before They Learn to Walk

2006-10-30T02:35:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday October 30th, 1996, at 8:10 AM I mused, “This is my last time eating Cocoa Krispies in single-digits.” My mom walked Sandy and I to school that morning and as we entered the elevator I proclaimed, “This is my last time pressing (A) in single-digits. This is my last time riding in this elevator in single-digits.” When we got to the UNIS’ walkway I told my mom that I loved her for the last time in single-digits and commenced “my last time walking down this walkway in single-digits.” At 8:35, in Mr. Kutner’s room, I turned 10.

A decade has passed. Almost. And now, the night before my age becomes an adult, I’m wondering, “What has happened these last ten years?” Every day for the next three days I will cover three years in an effort to answer that question.

10- I fell in love with Nadja Spiegelman. I developed a near-fatal case of Croup. I spent eons in another world that Karel and I discovered called “The Inner World.” I wrote stories about a haunted talking doll named Julie. I climbed trees in Connecticut. I cried over a neglected Tamagotchi. I played in baseball games (called “Steve Games”) on Waterside Plaza. I said goodbye to Tsoasorang Dubé. I drank Cokes on the Plaza with Frans Mernick. I lived for seven weeks in California. And I performed a forty-five minute one-man show about Juan Ponce De Leon.

11- I stopped talking to Nadja Spiegelman. I played a dead man in a play that had something to do with an Egyptian Museum. I kept the Kermit the Frog puppet (that is now on the floor of my dorm room by my closet) in my locker. I learned how to ski. I went to Camp Mason for the first time. I loved Linguini with White Clam Sauce at The River Caper (the restaurant that became Delano Drive). I became even more obsessed with The Simpsons. My favorite song was Kiss the Rain. Very late at night I vowed to devote my life to being the best friend of a socially handicapped little black boy and then didn’t. I cried hysterically through the end of (and continued to cry for twenty minutes after the end of) Titanic. I returned to Disney World for the first time since I was seven and decided it was legitimately my favorite place on earth (other than my home). And I almost made the Peter Stuyvesant Little League Minor League All-Star Team.

12- I learned that if someone’s blocking your vision it’s wiser to move yourself than ask them to move. I played soccer badly with Manhattan Kickers. I read Dear God, It’s Me Margaret and felt very close to God. I went to two baseball camps; at one of them I sometimes shoplifted bottles of Powerade (I still feel bad about this). I developed a fear of going deaf in a diving accident. I slept on my grandparent’s Connecticut carpet. My friend Mattan ruined the plot of the Matrix on a Night Hike. I played an Irish immigrant girl named Katherine in a play that I can only assume had something to do with Ireland. And I saw more stars than I’d ever seen in my life at Arcadia National Park.

This is my last time blogging with a one in front of my age in double-digits.

A Cracked Archangel

2006-10-27T13:17:00.000-04:00

I love my dreams and want to remember my dreams better. I’ve thought that a dream journal would help me in that pursuit. But I don’t have a dream journal. I do have this. So, for the preservation of some of last night’s dreams, I record them here:

I dreamt that I had three lines in a movie with Ben Affleck and Halle Berry. It got me on IMDB. The cast was small so my name was very close to Berry’s.

Then I dreamt that I woke up from that dream disappointed that I wasn’t really on IMDB. In this dream I was with Alex Whittington and Robert Stephens and I talked to them about the sadness that comes with dreams whose realities are appealing and don’t carry on into waking. But I was still dreaming.

And my last dream before I woke up: A giant (maybe twenty feet tall and huge) instructional robotic woman dinosaur had an allergic reaction to milk. She was in pain and to quench her pain she asked if she could bite into my arm. She lowered her head so that it was hovering above my elbow, her tentacles tangling around her, and asked what part she could bite into. I replied, “anything is okay.” Her giant head bounced around my arm and then her mouth shot at the soft of my upper arm. She didn’t bite into it, she made out with it. And I liked it. A minute later, as she was finishing, two fangs sprouted from her mouth and dug just a little into my arm. I liked that too. And then she was done. When her head slid off of me she began, in a robotic voice, to rattle off statistics about the experience we had just shared with each other. The final statistic, “You are the thirtieth human I have been with.” I was sad because that meant that what we had wasn’t special but I was happy because thirty is a good round number.

He Ate A Slice Of Wonder Bread And Went Right Back To Bed

2006-10-27T02:37:00.000-04:00

"[My father] told me that the first image was, let's say, like a coin- ten cents. Then the second image will stand on top. The memory of the first image. Then, when we came to a third coin that would be, not a memory of the first image, but, a memory of the first memory. And the fourth memory will remember the third memory and the fifth and the forth and so on. Every time we remember something we're slightly changing it. The wisest way to remember something is to forget all about it. My father says, “I think I am recalling my childhood in Buenos Aires, but what I am recalling is my last memory of it. In my works: the image of the labyrinth, of the maze, keeps popping up. I feel lost all the time; sometimes very happily lost.”

-Jorge Luis Borges

Your Old House Keys

2006-10-26T00:53:00.000-04:00

When Maggie Lentz talks to older men something wonderful happens. Her voice becomes high and rickety and water trembles at the corners of her eyes. When the voice meets police officers they grow mercy. When the voice meets professors Maggie's test scores grow percentage points.

Earlier tonight the wet and shaky voice met two celebrities: Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter. The voice invited the gentleman (of Wet Hot American Fame) back to my apartment where they might "sleep in any one of our three futons," and where, they were promised, cheese sandwiches awaited them. Showalter responded to the invitation in his own wet and shaky voice, "That sounds alluring but we have to be on our way tonight."

I'm glad. I'd rather be alone with Maggie.

And Then Suddenly There's This Huge Man Lifting You Off The Ground And Then He's Gone. Where's That Son?

2006-10-25T01:03:00.000-04:00

Ratan Thiyam is this man.

A Writer, director, designer, musician, painter and actor, Western Indian Ratan Thiyam is "one of the most important and influential theater makers at work in the international performance scene. " And he woke me up this morning. At 9:30 AM we sat on the floor and Thiyam asked us "how many are actors?" When every hand raised he sighed, "Ah."

His troupe made us bend in ways I cannot bend, jump in ways I cannot jump, breathe in ways I cannot breathe, shift in ways I cannot shift, touch in ways I cannot touch. My legs are still trembling fourteen hours later. I was blessed this morning, with a new desire. A yearning to move in all the ways I cannot move.

I'm in the first play I've been in, in college. It's called The Visit and I play a blind musician named Lobby. Tonight was our first rehearsal.

And in five days I turn twenty.

You Are What You Love, Not What Loves You

2006-10-14T02:00:00.000-04:00

Grab this one.

This University of Florida professor mesmerizes, mystifies, engages, saddens, and delights me.

Less Than the Poorest Rhapsodist

2006-10-11T02:19:00.000-04:00

Whenever I'm sad it's good to remember that I will be happy again. And whenever I'm happy it's good to remember that I will be sad again. And in the midst of remembering all those things it's really good to have shows like Bat Boy: The Musical.

You guys inspired me tonight.

Someones Killed Their Children and Made Them Into Cookies and I Want To Go See That

2006-10-09T15:32:00.000-04:00

Fuck Rosh Hashanah! Fuck December 31st. I want to start making New Day Resolutions.

This morning I woke up at 2:51 PM. Ten hours into my day it will be 12:51 AM. Instead of letting this make me sad (which it does) and stirred (which it does) I'm going to declare independence (from my reliance on sleep). A Benerican Resolution.

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the comfortable bonds which have connected them with an entity, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the waking life to which the laws of nature and of human decency entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of the blogging community requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the seperation.

Ihold these truths to be self-evident ,that all men are created sleepy, that they are endowed by their Creator (let's call him Allah) with certain unalienable rights, that among these are waking up at a Godly hour, staying awake through the entirety of the day, and going to sleep at a jolly yet reasonable time. That to secure these rights, one must strip away one's night-owlish ways as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.

I, therefore, the representative of Room B in Apartment 5107, in Ram Village 5, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world (Dan Chole Siegel) for the rectitude of my intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the Girls in 5106, solemnly publish and declare, that these united elements that make me me are, and of right ought to be free and absolved from all allegiance to the hope ofBeautiful dreams that have robbed me of Beautiful hours . And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, I mutually pledge my life, my Video iPod and my sacred honor.

Benjamin Greene

The Monster's Gone, He's On the Run

2006-10-02T00:38:00.000-04:00

This summer I found out that I feel free in rainstorms where each drop of rain hugs every other drop of rain so tightly that the rain drops forget which one they are. Yesterday I found out that I feel free when I jump onto what might be a weak tree from what might be a great height. Three weeks ago I found out that I feel free when I ride my clown bike down hill.

A year ago I found out that I feel happy when I keep moving.

This morning I asked my friend Jennifer how her night was.

"We stayed in my boyfriend's room the whole night. Ordered a pizza. It was very relaxing."

I was jealous. That word "relaxing," I had forgotten it. It got lost in the midst of change. Because what used to be relaxing to me is not anymore. Doing nothing on a couch used to be relaxing. Now that makes my heart contort. I get very anxious and then sad and then depressed.

But I think I'm on the verge of rediscovery.

And Your Heart Will Fly On Wings

2006-09-11T14:56:00.000-04:00

I’m younger than anything has ever been
And I don’t ever want to grow up

I just want to be held
And loved

Play with my toys
And my friends
And my dreams

Draw
And play pretend
And tell stories
And have people tell stories to me

Get dirty
And then rainy
And then be held again

I want to help
And matter

And change and change and change
And stay a little boy forever

All Things No

2006-08-24T21:42:00.000-04:00

I'm like a dog. When I feel an emotion I feel as if I've always felt that way and will always feel that way. When I'm happy I can't stir a solitary sad memory. When I'm sad, I can't imagine the series of circumstances that could possibly result in happiness's return. Tonight I've been sleepy. With the knowledge that I'll never be any less tired than I am right now I've thought about dropping all my classes. I can't wait till morning when the world is beautiful forever.

A Tag Tickle Team!

2006-08-05T02:06:00.000-04:00

Saturday, August 5th (which is, incidentally, today) at 2:30 pm I will be performing improvised comedy at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theatre (307 W. 26th Street Btwn. 8th and 9th Avenue). $5 a ticket. All are eagerly invited. Currently, I expect there to be more people on stage than in seats (and there will only be nine people on stage).

This is the graduation performance for Improv 101 with Ari Voukydis. The class featured a D.A.’s assistant, two stand-up comedians, two Brits, a married couple, a member of D.C.’s National Slam Team, a temp, a super senior at UConn, a former Disneyland Tour Guide, a fund-raiser for the Y, a former Jekyll and Hyde employee, an alumni of the Second City Conservatory, and a Rob. It was the highlight of my summer.

Speaking of nouns of my summer, on Wednesday I got the best news of my summer (I apologize for the reality that “best news” is an adjective followed by a noun). Josh Sharp, Dan Siegel, Reid Koster, and I (otherwise known as the cast of We Live Together) have been mysteriously, magnanimously, and miraculously moved to Ram Village Room 5107. We will all have our own private rooms. When Dan Siegel called me to inform me of this news I could only reply with the words, “Holy shit jesus cock monger hungry fish lettuce tree balls house ate three tons of fucking cunt bag whore ass hallelujah!!” I also told Dan Siegel that I love him. Which I do.

Goodnight Neverland.

I'm Having A Caeser!

2006-07-30T19:02:00.000-04:00

Brett Gelman fucked his sister.

The Del Close Marathon at UCB Theatre has ruined my life.

Spaghetti with Shoesballs

2006-07-26T21:39:00.000-04:00

Last night Reid Koster and I had our Off-Off-Broadway debut in Caitlin Cisek’s Bard in the Bush. We were both type-cast. Reid as a ghost and I as a Nigerian Elder tribesmen. I wish that just this once I could’ve stretched my range and played a white character.

The show went SWell (Surprisingly Well).

And our short, Obscenities by Reid Koster and Ben Greene, was very well received. The crowd was especially fond of Reid’s guitar playing, Reid’s line (“spontaneity on that level is just retarded,”), and Reid. I’m still not sure I ever had a grasp on the character of Ben. I tried asking Uta Hagen’s nine questions of the character, but to no avail. I did establish one thing about ‘Ben’: he has an unhealthy obsession with the first episode of The Secret World of Alex Mack (if you catch my drift).

In other absurdly exciting news: the 2006 Urbana National Slam Team took 2nd place Tuesday night at the Bowery. Sarah won first in her round with her new poem—a poem which splits poetic atoms.

AND: Josh Sharp is my official roomie roommate. What does this mean? It means that I can give up masturbation because I’m about to indulge in a YEAR LONG ORGASM!

Dan Siegel, Reid Koster, Josh Sharp, me, Patrick Moody, AND MATT WHITEHEAD (!!!) under one roof. My life smells just a lottle bit like heaven fruit.

A Thousand Twangling Instruments

2006-07-22T17:36:00.000-04:00

This week the sky of New York City has been angry and I've been playing in its rage. Twice have I navigated my way through a tempest. Twice have I arrived at my destination appearing to be less man than puddle.

As thunder has purred against the earth I have cried to the skies, "is that all you've got!" The sky's retort is manifest in the red dot I notice underneath the battery on my phone after the clouds have calmed. A red dot that my friend Kevin tells me signifies, "irreparable water damage."

I feel so alive when I'm wet.
The same cannot be said of my phone.

We Got Diddy

2006-07-19T02:22:00.000-04:00

Expanding on last night's theme of "how I sort of really really like Improv a lot," I thought tonight I might narate the story of my history with Improv:

In 2001 I watched Improv from afar. In 2002 I asked a friend for Improv's name. In 2003 I brushed shoulders with Improv. It was exhilarating. In 2004 I got up the courage to talk to Improv. In Spring of 2005 I noticed that sometimes when I looked over at Improv, Improv would be looking at me. In the late summer of 2005 I got a huge crush on Improv. In the early fall of 2005 I got up the courage to ask Improv out on a date. A week later Improv said yes. In late fall 2005 me and Improv had our first fight. We made up around Winter Vacation. In Spring of 2005 I gave Improv my Science Pin and me and Improv started going steady. A month ago I realized that I was and am falling in love with Improv.

It's Never About Knitting

2006-07-18T02:32:00.000-04:00

In the last four months I have become passionate about Improv. I cannot pinpoint the moment I fell in love (I had a crush on the Art Form from the third week of Incubators Practice on (and a vague attraction even before that)) but I do know that I am. In love.

The following quotes have inspired and changed me and I wanted to share them:

"Fuck your fear."
-Mick Napier (Everyone should read this man's book: Improvise)

"When you see a hand pointing towards the moon, do not become preoccupied with the hand."
-Del Close

"Don't paint by numbers. Who wants art they can predict?"

"The audience comes to watch you do things they're afraid to do."

"When in doubt, fuck it. Fuck it all to hell! You are a cutest little bastard Fuckface! So fuck it!"
-Susan Messing

"The more you feel obligated, the less inspired you become."
- Joe Bill

"Treat your audience as geniuses and poets and they will treat you as a genius and a poet."
-Del Close

Strewn With Half Written Songs

2006-07-17T02:20:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow morning my mom and I will travel to the post office to obtain a new passport.
This is an important thing to have. I'm very uncomfortable with the idea that, as of today, I cannot impulsivley migrate to Senegal. The closest I can come is Seattle.

In other news: My dad has a blog!?

The Happy of Milk

2006-07-15T16:05:00.000-04:00

We came for salvation
We came for family
We came for all that's good, that's how we'll walk away

We came to break the bad
We came to cheer the sad
We came to leave behind the world a better way

Avett Brothers concert last night at Bowery Ballroom. My mind blown.

The only thing missing from the night: Josh Sharp.

HIGHLIGHTS

At dinner Sarah Kay stirred a new desire within me to travel to Japan. Then at the concert the Avett Brothers instilled a new desire within her to travel to the South. I hope.
A miniature Indian girl asked Reid Koster out. He courteously declined the invitation.
Kevin Turner's legs fell off.
A giant bearded man approached me and said, "Hey you." I thought he was going to punch me in the face. But he went on, "weren't you in Capture the Flag: the Movie?"

Now that's a sentence I would have been surprised to hear in Chapel Hill. But in New York City.

'What the fuck,' I wondered. 'Has Will Jones negotiated a deal for National Distribution?'

As it turns out it was Andrew Westin's roommate. But a rush nonetheless.

Me And You Having A Barbecue

2006-07-12T14:41:00.000-04:00

Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense . Tense.
Worry. Work. Screw up. Fix. Regret. Worry.
Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense.
Skip class.
Tense. Tense. Worry. Worry. Tense. Tense.
Skip work.
Worry. Worry. Tense. Tense. Worry. Tense
Live.
Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense. Tense.

Buddy Wakefield says, "live for a living."

I'm trying. But my insides are coated in frets.

There are so many things I should-be-doing
Blocking the entrance to the world
Of thing I could-be-doing.

I'm going to publish this post-
And then
I'm going to unload the dishwasher (a Should-be)
And then
For the rest of the day
I will struggle to ONLY do things that I WANT TO DO.

I Am Leaving I Am Leaving But The Fighter Still Remains

2006-07-09T01:33:00.000-04:00

Today I enjoyed:

A dead Raccoon.
An old and naked Russian lady.
The 40th Wedding Anniversary of Tree-Sprayers.
A dwarf taking a picture of himself.
And a prophecy.

Loomers

2006-07-08T03:51:00.000-04:00

Whether the obstacle be Tetley's Iced Tea or TEE-ARR-TEE-DEE
Persistence is salvation.

Where Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops

2006-07-04T14:16:00.000-04:00

Last night I had a dream so real that in the dream I said:

"I promise this is real life."

I Would Never Give Up My Electric Blanket

2006-04-03T23:20:00.000-04:00

Why Are We Not Filming?

2005-12-15T01:34:00.000-05:00

Click on the delightful travesty below only to be met with another delightful travesty.

Tit Willow. Tit Willow. Tit Willow.

2005-12-13T02:15:00.000-05:00

A picture, a poem, a praise, and a play.

The Picture:

"You had me at Black Santa..."

The Poem:

Breathless

By Billy Collins

Some like the mountains, some like the seashore,
Jean-Paul Belmondo says
to the camera in the opening scene

Some like to sleep face up,
some like to sleep on their stomachs
I am thinking here in bed--

some take the shape of murder victims
flat on their backs all night,
others float face down on the dark waters.

Then there are those like me
who prefer to sleep on their sides,
knees brought up to the chest,

head resting on a crooked arm
and a soft fist touching the chin,
which is the way I would like to be buried

curled up in a coffin
in a fresh pair of cotton pajamas,
a down pillow under my weighty head.

After a lifetime of watchfulness
and nervous vigilance,
I will be more than ready for sleep,

so never mind the dark suit,
the ridiculous tie
and the pale limp hands crossed on the chest.

Lower me down in my slumber,
tucked into myself
like the oldest fetus on earth,

and while cows look over the stone wall
of the cemetery, let me rest here
in my earthy little bedroom

my lashes glazed with ice,
the roots of trees inching nearer,
and no dreams to frighten me anymore.

The praise:

A giant WHAT-WHAT (congratulations, for those not savy in the ways of the street) to Robert Gagner and Rafi Strict. You did it m'boys, you did it. May Brown be more glorious than its name.

The play:

This is a small scene from an ingenious little brain-child constructed two nights ago:

By Reid Koster and Ben Greene

PAW I will let him let him shoot a bebe gun whenever he damn well pleases.

MAW Well that’s not your porogative.

PAW It’s not… it’s not my porogative? I want a son named Teddy; not a daughter named Tedwina.

MAW Well, the ways you raisin’ him youse gonsta have a mur’erer named Teddy. Righ’ paw?

PAW [Groans] Ted, get in here!

TED Wazyouwan?

PAW Your mother wants to take you shopping for a dress.

MAW Now paw you knowse as well as the hills there’s a fine line ‘tween faggot and murder bear.

PAW Well I’d rather have a faggot than a murder bear. Dammit, no I don’t. I don’t want neither. I just want the youngin’ to fetch him the prettiest girl that can make grasshoppers eat off their own limbs. And bring her back here. So that she can fly off to outer space with us when we return home.

MAW The aliens is aliens, paw, not retarded. They’ll know soon as they floor hit that moon gas that she be his sister.

PAW Well I hope you know that when I was young I could’ve had much better than you maw, much better than you. You’re a toad, but you’re head was nailed on straight. Now we have one chance to get this right. And live forever.

MAW Paw, I gets so misty when you talk all purdy like that.

PAW My pantaloons get misty, my britches get sticky, good night!

MAW Is that an invitation, Mr. Brady?

"My britches get sticky, good night," indeed.

I Like Reid

2005-12-07T06:35:00.000-05:00

On Why I Am Nearly Confident My Roommate Hates Me

It is 5:45 AM and I am matching socks. And I am no early bird. I have been matching socks for three quarters of an hour. Before that I was folding shirts; and before that, at 4: 20, I was slamming my pant-filled drawer tightly shut so not-a-one would escape. I am that poorly construed student, guidance counselors warn (often for comic relief at college conferences) high school seniors they might someday have. The student who does his laundry at 3 AM. Exclusively. But does my roommate say a thing? No. He’s wonderful. Sleeping passively, as one should during the nighttime hours. I, however, clearly cut most of the classes in my BEING A FUNCTIONAL HUMAN BEING 101 course.

But my badroomatey-ness does not end there. Oh no.

I talk on the cell phone as if I’ve confused it with a mega-phone. My ring tone is the theme from a mighty wind. I’m never in the room when my roommate goes to bed, and I’m always in bed when he has to wake up in the morning… Even though we have class at the same time. We are Bert and Ernie, except I am neither yellow, charmingly goofy, nor his best friend through thick and thin. I am too much a monster to be anyone’s best friend. Though, on close consideration, I am charmingly goofy.

I leave six-day old candy wrappers on my desk, next to eight-day old tissues. My towel smells like a wet beaver. My retarded beaming face decks the pictures on my side of the wall, leering at my roommate day in, and day out. He, who actually uses the room, as a room. Not a Vomitorium. Though I have never thrown up in the room.

I have, however, stored vomit-drenched khakis in my closet for long weekends. More points for me!

And that’s it. Or is it barely?!?

I have a sexuality so ambiguous it would confuse my great-step-aunt. Who was a lesbian transvestite. I imagine. It is unfathomable to me how my roommate finds time to study, write, or complete any task with all of the pondering of, “Is he gay or not!?” Because on the one hand I proudly hang a poster that reads, “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.” But then there’s also my heterosexuality-reaffirming Eternal Sunshine poster. But then, on the other hand, the same hand we started with, he once came into the room to find me and Logan in bed together (we were seriously just reading poetry to each other, okay). But on the other hand he may have noticed me mounting Shaniqua, at 2 AM two months ago, since he was right there, two feet away (yes, I know, I’m not a very good roommate. What do you think I’ve been saying).

To top it all off, it is now 6:18 AM, and I’m typing this rant, and my laptop is beaming industrial murder at the poor guy, while the clickety-click-clicking of my typing is, unbeknownst to him, driving him slowly mad. Like Chinese Water Torture.

The worst part of all of it. People love me for these quirks. They flaunt it right in front of his face. I am an adorable little ball of Nazi-dust, with imperfections almost as huggable as they are marketable.

Now I’m off to take a shower. When I come back into the room I will more than likely sit at the foot of his bed, naked; stroking his feet, and humming softly, through the last few minutes of his enchanted slumber.

Goodnight my Lovelys.

p.s. Josh Sharp, this is not the entry I’ve been writing for you. This is a bonus!

p.p.s. Sarah Kay, you are greatest Afro-American voice of our time, and I promise you I will be replying to that e-mail of yours ineffably soon. It’s just that I’m as bad a friend as I am a roommate.

p.p.s. Sumiran Das makes me wet.

p.p.p.s. Caroline!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

p.p.p.p.s. Hi, Sarah Kay’s mom and dad! I love you guys like the step-parents I’ve always wanted. I’m not really as bad as I portray myself here. This could be a satire!

p.p.p.p.p.s But to everyone who’s not Sarah’s parents… this is not a satire. They must believe it is so Mrs. Kay will continue to have me in her home.

p.p.p.p.p.p.s. Nadja Spiegelman.

p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s. I’m much sleepier during the P.Ses than I was through the rest of the everything.

Leap of Faith

2005-11-30T03:06:00.000-05:00

I fucked up.

In My Professional Opinion... I Think You're A Monster

2005-10-12T00:52:00.000-04:00

Tim- I miss you and Sarah. One of my favorite memories of the year remains the car ride home from Sarah’s poetry gig out in Jersey. Also, the mist on the street that night.

I’ve been thinking about what you said, that “the fact that we have the choice to do anything depending on which direction our will takes us is one of the scariest ideas.” I absolutely agree and that’s apparent in the poem. But it’s more complex than that. The poem would be just as honest if I had written:

It was
One of the most thrilling
Moments
Of my life

To me, just as scary as the idea that we have the power to do anything is the idea that we might not. We live eternally constrained by laws of decency; laws as incorruptible as the laws of physics. Just for once I wanted to break one of those laws: specifically, the law that one does not smash one’s cell phone with a hammer. And as horrified as I was, it was exhilarating.

Sarah- I’m sorry that I sent you an eighteen page E-Mail. I know you don’t have time to read it, LET ALONE reply to it.

Sarah Kay’s Mom- I will admit that I am a wee bit embarrassed; however my happiness that you enjoy my Blog cancels that out. I think you, and EVERYONE can expect to see the site updated far more frequently in the next weeks.

I don’t know if Sarah passed on the message but I did get your cookies and they were the greatest surprise I’ve received in months. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. I was moved. And they were delicious.

Caroline- I LOVE YOU!!!! And miss you terribly, but won’t have to for much longer! Just one week! I don’t think you can imagine how excited I am to be the girls soccer team’s bouncing baby boy once again.

You let Muniz ride on the bus?

In any event, give Sandy a hug for me, and ask her to give you a hug from me. I can’t wait to see my Sweet Caroline.

p.s. How do you always manage to make me happier than is humanly possible?

Little Jizzy Nezbit

2005-09-30T03:17:00.000-04:00

Earlier tonight
I took a hammer
By its wood
And smashed
My cellular phone
Into insanity.

It was
The death
Of inhibition
And the murder
Of sensible oppression

It was
One of the scariest
Moments
Of my life

Freedom
Is terrifying
And rare

It leaves you
Shaken

And I can’t call anyone to talk about it.

Crazy Old Maurice

2005-09-22T21:59:00.000-04:00

More Roman Cathedral, More Roman Cathedral!!

They Called Me Bubblicious 'Cause I Got Bubble Cheeks and Wishes

2005-06-01T08:58:00.000-04:00

The last twenty-four hours and nine minutes have been cripplingly action-packed.

More on that at Eleven.

Let Go

2005-05-31T00:28:00.000-04:00

The picture that makes '05's Year Book

UNIS' Lit-Mag Editors hard at work.

Honey, I Shrunk the Hispanic Maid

2005-05-29T21:51:00.000-04:00

What Would Feeny Do?

2005-05-22T23:00:00.000-04:00

Sarah Foster Kay

Have Gone Out the Window

2005-05-20T00:06:00.000-04:00

Nine hours and fifty four minutes.

Not Physics but Ecstatics Makes the Engine Run

2005-05-19T00:11:00.000-04:00

One day, nine hours, and forty nine minutes.

Ducky Go Down the Hole

2005-05-17T23:24:00.000-04:00

Two days, ten hours, and thirty six minutes.

Albert's Abyss

2005-05-15T22:32:00.000-04:00

In four days, twelve hours, and fifteen minutes, I will be done with IB Exams. I will be done with the IB. I will be done with High School-related anxiety. I will be done with the endless and stifling obligations that have governed my life for thirteen years (though, I suppose, they're not as endless as I thought; here's the end).

In four days, twelve hours, and fifteen minutes, I will be done.

Your Revolution Will Not Happen Between These Thighs

2005-05-13T23:28:00.000-04:00

To view today's Picture Post in its normal size please subscribe to the Comedy Bentral Premium Package today!

Or click on it, either way.

Show Me a Child Begotten and Then We'll Talk

2005-05-06T00:12:00.000-04:00

Pixels! Who knew!?

Ten Reasons To See All's Well That Ends Well Tomorrow @ 7:30

1. Sarah Kay rivets. She carries the show, and she does so, really fuckin' beautifully. My little Caliban has come a long way from the Calicave.

2. Whenever John Malios is on-stage and angry... which is always... he mouths the words "Mother Fucker". Malios is actually damn impressive. The arrogant asshole's got real presence.

3. Caroline Kissane is the hottest fucking widow ever;

hands down, kick his ass.

4. Maggie McCaffrey portrays the stiflingly serious role of Countess Rousillon. And yet. Somehow. She made me laugh so hard that

a little pee came out. Just a little.

5. The set kicks ass. Really fucking professional.

6. Sumiran Das is at his funniest, and that's saying something.

He made a lot of pee come out. And I say that shamelessly.

7. I need the CD of this thing. The music (and there's beaucoup) rocked my world. It's like Bonnie Tyler, Platform Edge, and George Thorogood fucked and had a three-headed baby.

8. Rachael Tice and Andrea Kristinsdøttir, my little Bald Soprano campers, are truly lovely. And some of them are prostitutes!

9. Luciano Vignola and Brenda Delmonica may not say much, but there's ricockulous talent oozing out of both these

disgustingly attractive youngsters.

10. Finally, Isar in the role he was born to play: The King of France.

See it! Now! Go!

You're a Hora!

2005-05-03T22:11:00.000-04:00

Is it just me

Are all my posts

Starting

To take on

The same

Weird Ass

Format

A Salute to All Nations, But Mostly America

2005-05-03T22:05:00.000-04:00

One IB Exam down.

Eight to go.

But then:

I enjoy freedom purer than any I've felt in thirteen years.

We Eat What We Like

2005-05-02T23:07:00.000-04:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AVA!!!!!!

We at Comedy Bentral think you're neat.

Very neat.

We love you.

The Strings That Tie to You

2005-05-01T13:23:00.000-04:00

Blowing up balloons for his little sister's birthday, dark purple spiraled from his grip, and shrunk. Charging at his leg, the balloon prayed for the boy to rescue it from the air. When he did, the balloon whispered, "Wait. Don't blow me up any bigger. I like this size." So the boy let the balloon stay that size.

Carrie, I am Making a Birdhouse

2005-04-29T19:55:00.000-04:00

Picture posted with the helpful help of HELLO

In case it's not apparent, that's me in the picture. I know, I know, I kind of look like Willy Wonka. Or a skeleton man. But isn't that true of me in real life as well. And why am I holding bags of money, you ask. Well, that's the secret U.N.I.S. treasure buried out in the garden. I find it on June 6th. Poor Dr. Rajan... You can't see it, but there's a lone tear sliding down her face.

Nat's Ex

2005-04-21T17:06:00.000-04:00

If there's one thing I love more than: getting in to UNC... Finding myself, inexplicably, elected The Class of '05s graduation speaker... and being overwhelmingly in love with the girl of my dreams... it's using Philip Kay's shampoo, gel, and conditioner.

You Are the Pan

2005-04-18T23:00:00.000-04:00

Six Things I'm Looking Forward To:

Sarah Kay FEATURING in New Jersey, Wednesday night.
Sandy's Birthday Bash- She turns 15 on Saturday! That's passover, so we're celebrating the following Saturday. Stupid Angel of Death.
May 19th, which is, I believe, the day of my last IB Exams. HUTTAH!
June 7th- Graduation day. So long suck town! I love you.
June 11th- The first of almost twenty consecutive (as opposed to?) days with Ava, in a cabin, by a lake, in Oregon. Gelus?
August 25th- Classes commence at UNC Chapel Hill. And so begins the next chapter of my life.

Rosebud 2: Golden Reciever

2005-04-17T01:07:00.000-04:00

So... I posted. Thrice. Happy now, Fuckers? Better be.

Love,
Ben Greene

p.s. Links below:

The Morning Star

Dalton's a Slut

I Feel Like Silence of the Lambs

I Feel Like Silence of the Lambs

2005-04-17T00:11:00.000-04:00

Thoughts on the Night of Open Mic

Sarah Kay: Remains my hero. Organizing this triumph was the most impressive thing I've ever seen a kid, our age, do.

James: Without question, you are the best thing that ever happened to the Art of Parody.

Colin and Louie: After last nights display of comic brilliantatry, I'd tap 'em both. Even if they are pre-pubescent. And boys.

Streithorst: Made me laugh violently. And he was never even on stage.

Samara: Best. Save. Ever. And a beautiful new poem.

Abiy (sp?): I remember you rocking.

Shridar: This boy has the voice of an angel. Or, more precisely, eighty angels on crack.

Bachman: Can drum, not only, like there's no tomorrow, but, in addition, like whether there is a today, or was a yesterday, is dubious

Tim: He raps like my hampster craps. And boy can my hampster crap!

Shaharazad: Wins the prestigious "Cooler than Fuck" Award.

And to all the beautiful people who've written to say that they liked whatever the fuck it was that I did last night: Thank you so much. You've made my decade.

Dalton's a Slut

2005-04-16T23:34:00.000-04:00

"Ben and Ava" or "Ross and Rachel"?

Sunday, the 10th, I returned from a nine day trip to Oregon, visiting the love of my life, Ava Schmidt. It was magical.

Saturday: Took a walk. Rode a fork lift. Met her friend Sarah. Cuddled on a bridge over a babbling brook. Danced in the rain.

Sunday: Looked through a memory box. Got sick on a train. Together. Arrived in Eugene, The University of Oregon. Renamed my new favorite roomie, Lindsay Smith, Smithy.

Monday: Lay in her lap as she did homework. Sighed eupohorically.

Tuesday: There was a rainbow. Two actually, if you count the one in my heart after the first day going to work with her. Ava works at an elementary school's aftercare program. Those kids are enchanting.

Wednesday: Romantic Italian dinner. Then checked in to a hotel. The first thing we did: jump on the bed.

Thursday: Visited her lovely and amazing friend Lydia's Gospel Choir in action. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!"

Friday: Her dad made Fetuccini. We read the Stinky Cheese Man and other Fairly Stupid Tales.

Saturday: Met her oh-too-awesome friend Elise. Found an oh-too-awesome blanket, that matched a significant set of sheets from her childhood, at Goodwill. Yet another romantic Italian dinner. What can I say? "We eat what we like!"

p.s. It did not taste like apples.

Sunday morning: Watched the Muppet Movie.

Everyday: Was riveted by her. Was having the greatest time of my life. Was in love with her.

And now: I miss her.

Don't worry, I like you guys, too. You just don't kiss me as frequently.

I Made You a Shirt

2005-04-12T00:30:00.000-04:00

And by that same token: this is not a post. This is just a warning.

Warning: I will update soon.

So tune in next time, when you'll hear Ben Greene say:

"I got in to college!"

and

"I got in to Oregon! That is, they let me across the border! Yay!"

So, until then!

TTFN

Ta Ta For Now

Peoples is Peoples

2005-03-25T22:18:00.000-05:00

Four years. That's a lot of years.
and
Seven days. Well. That's not a lot of days.
but
Over the next seven days I'll be findin' out what I'll be doin' with the next four years.
so
I have a head ache.

I s'pose I'll just have to focus on the extraordinary wisdom of The Grapes of Wrath's Ma Joad:

"Al steered with one hand and put the other on the vibrating
gear-shift lever. He had difficulty in speaking. His mouth
formed the words silently before he said them aloud. 'Ma--' She
looked slowly around at him, her head swaying a little with the car's
motion.

'Ma, you scared a goin'? You scared a goin' to a new
place?' Her eyes grew thoughtful and soft. 'A little,'
she said. 'Only it ain't like scared so much. I'm jus' a settin'
here waitin'. When somepin happens that I got to do somepin-- I'll do
it.'
'Ain't you thinkin' what's it gonna be like when we get
there? Ain't you scared it won't be nice like we
thought?'
'No,' she said quickly. 'No, I ain't. You can't do
that. I can't do that. It's too much-- livin' too many
lives. Up ahead they's a thousan' lives we might live, but when
it comes, it'll on'y be one. If I go ahead on all of 'em, it's too
much. You got to live ahead 'cause you're so young, but-- it's
jus' the road goin' by for me. An' it's jus' how soon they gonna wanta
eat some more pork bones.' Her face tightened. 'That's all I can
do. I can't do no more. All the rest'd get me upset if I done
any more'n that. They all depen' on me jus' thinkin' about that.'"

So until I hear which live I'll be livin', I'll jus' be a settin' here waitin'.

Why Don't You Go Poop In The Corner?

2005-03-23T20:56:00.000-05:00

I REMEMBER

By The Lovely and Disastrous

I remember my babysitter Pushpa, the night before Sandy was born, watching the news. The room smells like her: chapatti, curry, building 40. She says to me, though I am only three, I will pray for your mother tonight. And I remember a cactus growing in the middle of the room, although, likely, there wasn't one.

I remember the first time I saw Ava Schmidt. She was pretty, and tall, and slightly less pretty because she was taller than me. I look up from the convex asphalt lines of the Barnes and Noble escalator, drink the scent of Tazo-Chai Tea capitalism, and wave. Awkwardly.

I remember the taste of white wine, root beer, warm milk, rum, coffee, and vomit lingering in my throat for hours, the early morning after the first night I ever got drunk.

I remember, and not thanks to the home movies, the young summer day when I couldn't stop chanting "After these messages we'll be right back".

I remember clutching the sleeve of Caroline Kissane, with all my dorky might, my round owl-head bouncing frantically from her to Bowery stage, as, in total awe, I watched Shappy perform for the first time.

I remember the first time I got to second base, or at least what, years before, in second grade, my friends and I decided was second base. I remember the first time I got to second base giving up on the fucking impossible bra hook and just slipping the cushioned black material over her breasts.

I remember the windows of our Oldsmobile Silhouette, crying, as we crept along I-95, and the smell. Of security.

Thank you, Sarah Kay, so much, for bringing us Taylor Mali. I'm glad I fucked up while reading the above piece, today. It helped me to learn more. Even without his critique, I learned an invaluable amount over the last three days. Taylor Mali is a brilliant teacher. You, however, remain the best Teacher of Poetry I've yet been graced by.

Grand Fa

2005-03-22T19:09:00.000-05:00

"Sarah, why can't you be more like Ben?"
-Taylor Mali

Cock-a-roach

2005-03-22T08:59:00.000-05:00

I'm so hardcore that I came to school on Senior Cut-Day, but, I'm not in school today. And, I'm not sick.

I remember my babysitter Pushpa, watching the news, the night before my sister was born. She's in my parent's room and it smells like her: curry, chapatti, building 40. I approach the fold out couch, at the moment folded in, Pushpa's arm apart from the rest of her body, propped at the side, resting. Even though I am three, she tells me that tonight she will pray for my mother. And I remember a cactus growing in the middle of the room, though likely, their wasn't one.

CUM 2 MALI

Are You Italian or Retarded?

2005-03-15T22:40:00.000-05:00

Two Days Till Kahn's School of Night

Where you'll get to hear Ben Greene say:

"Zanni, I am in love! But with whom?"

Find out, along with Pantaloné , March 17th. Then find out again, March 18th.

Smee! Don't Try to Stop Me this Time, Smee!

2005-03-12T23:46:00.000-05:00

I don't want to wake up at 9:30.
I want to dream.
I don't want to do anything that resembles work.
I want to improvise my ass off as Pantalone.
I don't want to get a physics or french tutor.
I want to rehearse with VOICE tomorrow.
I don't want to do english journals, or read obligitoraly.
I want to read America the Book. And the Amber Spyglass.
I don't want to do anything I don't want to do.
I want to do everything. And some other stuff, too.

Little White Boy Cower

2005-03-07T20:06:00.000-05:00

7 Thoughts for March 7th
(with pictures!)

1.I am the three-headed baby of an activist and a nihilist.

2.I don't care how evil Robert Gagner is. I like him.

3.There is a parallel universe out there where everything is exactly the same as it is here. Except Carl Winslow is my father.

4.Often the purity of my soul is in sync with the cleanliness of my room.

5.I must find stipulations that force me in to "accidentally" spending time with Nick Streithorst (i.e. Directing the E! True Hollywood Story of his life.)

6.Mr. Kahn had both Isar and Karel Teifer call me today to tell me that I was to come from Waterside back to U.N.I.S. to fill in for Stone at School of Night rehearsal. There was no Commedia rehearsal, it was an act of standing in and standing in alone. I liked it better before Mr. Kahn vaguely liked me.

7.March shall be a most exciting month. VOICE Assembly (March 14th), Revenge of the Calibans (March 17th-18th), Taylor Mali Workshops (March 21st-23rd), Spring Break (March 25th-Forever). This week, however, I foresee as annoying.

Walsinghamsteinberg

2005-03-06T16:17:00.000-05:00

"There once was a girl, Sarah Kay

Who was the lovechild of Anthon-ay

Who got it on with Lin-Man

On their tour of Japan

And soon had a freestylin' ba-bay"

-Ben, Caroline, and James (UNIS-UN March 4th 2005)

Without Question, The Worst Thing That Ever Happened

2005-03-01T21:23:00.000-05:00

This. Fucking. Sucks.

As president of the Sarah Kay fan club I'd like to commence an effort to raise three thousand dollars to pay for Sarah Kay's insurance.

Too-Lame

2005-02-28T23:59:00.000-05:00

Shappy Birthday to All and to All a Shappy Birthday

p.s. This post may or may not have been posted with the sole intent of "one-upping" Sarah Kay.

Archie is NOT Fucking Mr. Weatherbee!

2005-02-28T14:04:00.000-05:00

The Best College Essay of All Time, Ever

T3s- When the time comes, you can send this to the collegio of your choice. Believe me, if you do, guaranteed acceptance.

Dear [Insert College/University Name Here],
Although I’d much rather attend an Ivy league school than yours, I do not think I have the grades or the .But since they won’t take me maybe you will.

I have overcome many opsticals to get where I am today, such as climbing the mountaisn in Central Park, getting up most morning to go to school, and dealing with my fucking gay ass parents. They are always telling me that I should go to good college so I can do what I love. Bit whjat I’d really love is to be rich, I’d love to be a millionare. If I had enough money I wouldn’t have to work, and I could by anything I wanted. In fact I promise you, as my very very very most second choice college that If I go to you then I will when I’m after rich rich I will give you an airport. MAYBE TWO! Tank yOu.

-[Insert applicant name]

Dreaming On a Budget

2005-02-27T22:57:00.000-05:00

Deux Choses:

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about. And that was the beginning of fairies."

Finding Neverland recieves Ben Greene's extreme stamp of approval.

Chose le deuxieme:

"Ugh. She broke The Gates"

The Gates, which ends today, recieves Ben Greene's stamp of amusement, bemusement, and appreciated superfluity.

Sarah You Had Me at Ben

2005-02-27T22:28:00.000-05:00

You Are the Very Gay Bert and Ernie!

Two grown puppets living together, sleeping in the same room?
They've even got coordinating striped shirts!

Are You A Gay Muppet Too? Find Out!

It's A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

2005-02-26T02:00:00.000-05:00

J.J. Peterson

April 22 2004-February 23 2005

Beloved fish and friend

I Kid, I Kid Cause I Love

2005-02-25T12:53:00.000-05:00

A fuck of a lot of shit happened over this last week. I will bullet point those events most notable:

On Friday, the day after I fixed my "comment counter" to read this New York Lotto Shtick, Kelcey escorted me into the office of everybodies favorite Marjorie Nieuwenhuis. There New House informed me, to my great surprise and glee, that I am one of the two nominees this year, from UNIS, for the New York Lotto Leaders of Tomorrow $4,000.00 Scholarship. Two nominees, one selectee, hopefully mee. The weird thing is the "comment counter" thing. Cooincidence... I think nay.
Just got back from a five day vacation with the Greene Family Laugh Time Variety Show. "It was delicious, so cold, and so sweet."
On the last day, we went bowling. In the first game, my mom bowled a 124, my dad bowled an 87, Sandy bowled a 68, and I... I bowled an 11. If my score were a penis size, mine would be an inny.
Last night Sarah Kay won the Urbana Poetry Slam Semi-Final-Oh-My-God. Her final poem, "you're the worst thing that ever happened to my poetry", recieved something like a 9.6, a 9.9, a 9.9, and two tens. Oh my gosh. She beat five other brilliant poets to take home an oversized shirt. Oh my goodness. Now, the poetry goddess will be facing off against such names as Taylor Mali! and Post Midnight! in a courageous and valiant effort to make it to the Urbana National Slam team! I'm not one to use multiple exclamation marks, but!!!
I had a blast performing "Microsoft Word's Bitch" in the Open Mic. It was as well recieved as I could have hoped and after the poem Shappy gave me a whole bag of Nerds candies for the performance and mentioning the fact that I would go gay for him in it. I orgasmed thrice consecutivley.

Blair, the featured poet, was amazing. His Huck Finn Poem. The zillion dollar ideas. The crayon story. All took my breath away.
Last night, after the slam, I came home to find my beloved fish, J.J. Peterson, no longer with us. I loved him very much. He's God's fish now. Let's hope that God changes his water more often than I did.

Procrastin Ate My Philosophy Essay

2005-02-17T20:06:00.000-05:00

It seems that no matter how hard I try, how much effort I put in (or really, don't put in), or how transparently I invite it, I just can't fuck up. Like the universe has covered me in bubble wrap. I academically tie myself to train tracks every day and every day I am saved by some freak incident. Is it that my life is binded by a string of fortunate coincidences? Or do I just have the most passionate guardian angel on the fleet?

In any case, Universe, thank you. Ben Greene appreciates the 6+ on the three weeks of English journals that he did in one sitting this morning. And I really appreciate the fact that, apparently, the late penalties on my philosophy essay will be erased when I hand in my rewrite. Thank you, Universe, for whole-heartedly encouraging my procrastination, as you don't let anything bad ever come from it. I don't mean to sound snippy. I shouldn't be upset that you're toying with odds in my favor, it's just that I'm a little freaked out, cause right now there's bearly a doubt in my mind that if I jumped out a window, I would land on a truck transporting posturepedic mattresses.