REID #63

Dec 14, 2021

SHORT:

This week, I got hit by a leaf in the rain and said “ow” and then my friend Sebastian said, “that couldn’t possibly have hurt you” and I said “you don’t know how I hurt, everyone hurts differently.”

I will be applying to slam poetry jams with that piece tomorrow.

MEDIUM:

There’s currently a teen on my train with huge biceps talking about how people used to get famous in Ancient Greece.

He’s too far away and we went into a tunnel right when he said the answer so I guess I’ll never know how people used to get famous in Ancient Greece.

His friend who also has huge biceps just said: “this is the lowest IQ conversation I’ve had in a long time but I’m enjoying it… like that stuff you just said about Ancient Greece, what even was that?”

Big bicep teen #1 said: “yeah sorry, sometimes my teachers say I go A to C with a thought and skip sentences that are useful for people to understand things in between”.

I want to lean over and hug big bicep teen #1 and tell him that what he said about Ancient Greece was actually really smart (even though I didn’t hear the answer) and definitely way more interesting than his muscle-y friend’s monologue about how every girl on dating apps say their favorite musical artist is Doja Cat.

Speaking of the performer named Doja Cat, I’ve been performing a lot (incredible transition*)

*something I want people to say about me once my damn testosterone kicks in

When I was on death’s door earlier this week (read: had a sinus infection), I performed at a comedy show where my friend Brian was also on the lineup. There was a man in a beanie in the audience and Brian told me he messaged that man 23 times on Grindr and each time, got no response. I said, “maybe he just likes receiving messages and not replying”. Brian said, “maybe”. Then Brian went onstage and performed and then got offstage asked me if the guy in the beanie laughed at any of his jokes and I said, “oh sorry I forgot to watch him” … this is why I was never in my school’s GSA. I’m not a good ally.

Tonight I did another show with Brian and watched him earnestly bob his head along to “Like A Prayer” by Madonna backstage and then go, “wait… this is actually really good music”. And I said, “Yes, it is world-famous”. And he said “the world knows what’s up”.

LONG:

I am almost done with classes for the semester. I have to work on my screenwriting homework after this, and am sort of dreading it because whenever I try to work on the “mechanics of my script” it feels like when I was in middle school and got asked to come up to the board and do a math problem in front of the class.

I panic and my brain stops working.

Most anxiety in my life can be traced back to having to do a math problem on the board in front of my middle school class.

Speaking of anxiety, I think if my Jewish mom saw SantaCon she’d have a heart attack.

I went to midtown Manhattan on Saturday and did not remember that SantaCon was happening.

Sometimes I don’t understand how this country is so aggressively fucked up and then I walk through Kips Bay and see throngs of drunk 20-30-somethings belching and smashing their way through traffic in giant Santa suits that say “Dick The Halls” on the back and then I’m like “oh yeah”.

I walked around for 45 minutes trying to find a cafe to work at/ kill time at before going to see my old roommate who I hooked up with once’s movie where he plays Leonardo DiCaprio’s son.

I turned down 5th avenue by mistake and got to see the big Christmas shop windows and 3 million tourists.

I pushed my way through and found the only place that had seating and food under 100 dollars: Chipotle.

(By the way, when I say “walked around” for 45 minutes, I don’t mean “walk” in the traditional sense. I’ve never “walked” in a Winter Wonderland in my life. I’ve always barreled my ass right through. If you walk/stroll anywhere when the temp is below 40 degrees, you need to seek medical help).

ANYWAY, I spent two hours at the midtown Chipotle during SantaCon watching a guy out the window sell mannequin heads with floppy Christmas hats on them. I thought about him and his life and if he enjoys selling mannequin heads with floppy Christmas hats on them. I wondered if he’s always lived in NY and if he has kids and if selling mannequin heads with floppy Christmas hats on them isn’t his passion, what is?

Then I thought about how, instead of going to the midtown Chipotle I should’ve gone to the Bouchon Bakery nearby and gotten a cinnamon roll. Whenever I get near a place that sells good cinnamon rolls I get all giddy and warm and excited at the mere idea that if I wanted to, I could go over and get one.

But I didn’t go.

I stayed at the Chipotle and thought about my life and tried to do breath work because I listened to a guy on a gay podcast talk about how it changed his life but then I got really stressed about deep-breathing in a Midtown Chipotle with tourists during Christmas season because what if I breathed in too hard and got COVID so then I stopped trying to do breath work.

I added a note to my calendar to watch Ted Lasso over this break.

I’ve never seen Ted Lasso, but this week, in class, I guess I “accidentally pitched Ted Lasso but instead of soccer it was about eggs”.

Does that make sense? For those who watch the Sudeikis program?

Whatever, I don’t really care.

I think, instead, I’m going to write my own version of The Crown about me and my friends being the Kings and Queens of Bitchtown USA.

On a less bitchy note, nothing makes me more emotional than when people go out of their way to do thoughtful, nice things that nobody asked them to do.

… Except for when Justin Bieber posts religious love-yourself stuff on Instagram. That doesn’t make me emotional. It makes me stressed. Every single day I have to remind myself that Justin Bieber isn’t gay, he’s just Canadian.
They played his Christmas album the other day in a cafe where I decided to order and eat a lox bagel at 5pm that definitely had been sitting out all day.
When I was at the cafe, I also decided that “at this point in my life, I haven’t been to Burning Man, but like… I have. You know?”

In any case, this week my TV teacher went out of his way to make us lemon sponge cake on the last day of class which made me verklempt because I love him and also because my great grandmother used to make lemon sponge cake on Passover.

Because of COVID, we had to go down 7 flights of stairs with flimsy little plates and eat the cake outside the Tisch building and then come back up and tell him that it was really good.

And that’s what has been happening with me. C u next Tuesday.

If you’re reading this at 7am when it comes out: