Doing Crazy Rhino Laughs with Bill Hader and Women Inspired’s Dr. April Seifert

Darling Ruffians…  Behold! Your every-once-in-a-while missive from the land of snarky solipsism periodically masquerading as art… How the hell are you? Isn’t the world just horrendous right now? Everything is awful. Most days I have to watch a boatload of BBC America just to get through the day. Hold fast, dear ones.

In the meantime, I have some wickedly fun news I can finally utter out loud and in pixels… My tiny book, Gotham Girl, Interrupted, a comedy about neurodiversity (and other clinically awful things) is being developed by Emmy award-winning executive producer, Cary Brokaw, of Angels in AmericaWTF, you say? I know!

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We’re doing a half-hour show called SPAZ in the vein of Fleabag and Better Things. Of course, I’m beyond thrilled. Cary’s instincts about story are so wildly uncontrived, they nudge me way the hell out of my comfort zone. Plus, getting paid to be as charmingly weird as you naturally are is kind of a fabulous vacation. (For newcomers here… I’d made this promise ages ago to always do work that completely terrifies my dad, and now it’s totally working out! Who knew?)

But this is why I’m still in Los Angeles at Saint Jacqueline’s Home for Wayward  Writers…  and why I’ve been trying to stick to Colson Whitehead’s highly unsexy book advice: “Stay at home and write. Don’t go out.” I have to admit some days… it makes me batshit antsy AF, and so recently I had to go outside to meet Bill Hader. Can I just tell you… sitting mere feet away from this national treasure of a guy, listening to him totally indulge his yowling, horny-rhinoceros-laughter, has the CRAZY effect of making you less afraid of your own horny-rhinoceros-laugh? Which is also why I’m a bit less shy about sharing my latest interview with April Seifert, host of the groundbreaking podcast Women Inspired!

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For those of you who know me, I apply the rules of improv comedy to manage a life with epilepsy. What I loved about my conversation with April is that she got me thinking again about how my prior professional background in Design Thinking could be applied to ongoing healing, self-care, and life design to thrive with any chronic condition. To my mind, April is exactly the kind of badass psychologist and data scientist the End Epilepsy campaign needs to design a world more inclusive of all our differently wired brains and bodies. I’m so grateful to her for having me on Inspired Women. Give it a listen and spare some starry love when you have a chance.

For now, I’m going back to a series bible. Stay rad, lovelies, Until next time – xoxo – GG

F/M/K: Tr*mp, Darth Vader, Pizza Rat?

Words and images by the incomparable Warren Ellis and Tula Lotay

What do you think Gothamites?

Imma say:

F*ck Vader: He’s probably into some kinky shit that would make for solid, non-three-breasted alien Sci-Fi material… a la Warren Ellis.

Marry Pizza Rat: We’re set to elect a fluorescent rodent. At least this little guy isn’t overly chatty and brings home something I like. (dollar slices)

Def K*ll: the cos-playing nuclear turnip who says HE ALONE speaks for you and that HE ALONE will save America. No way Jose!

I KNEW there was a reason I brought up Del Close and long form improv comedy the other day, and maybe this makes me a little (or a lot) evil, but you’ve got to ask yourself, can a bloated butternut squash improvise for four whole years? We may soon find out…

I know yesterday I was supposed to talk about Step Three: applying the lessons of Jason Bourne to address imminent danger, but right now…  running over rooftops while mindfully channeling one’s heretofore undiscovered Krav Maga fighting techniques feels like waaaaay too much in the heat… I vote for binge-watching Stranger Things on Netflix and checking out Ruth Ware’s awesome new thriller The Woman in Cabin 10. Both are good fun.

For now, keep cool and stay rad.

XOXO – GG

Ps… No fluorescent rodents (or anything of that ilk) were harmed in the making of this blog post. It’s all just silliness… xoxo

The White Walkers Are Coming… Quick, What’s Our Safety Word Again?

“Rhubarb, golf, prostate, prostate…” (30Rock)

We’re about to hand the keys to the White House over to a cray-cray, uber-racist, homophobic, disability-hating Oompa-Loompa who has no intention of actually leading. It’s like a life-on-fire montage, and no amount of tweeting or blogging will fix it.

Re: the Melania moment. To give her the ultimate benefit of the doubt… a “worldview” is what you do when you’re alone in the room… when you think no one else is watching… Maybe Larry Wilmore is right…at least she espouses the same values as Michelle Obama??? Naah, they’re just a bunch of lazy, entitled f*ckwits. To quote Rory Albanese, “This is how hot girls get through high school,” which is wrong, wrong, wrong Rory… You doofus-ass crush of mine. And, you know what they say about the “entitled”… “They don’t get a break… They just get broken.” (Jon Westenberg)

But ugh… I put myself through college working as a baker… I know I said I was a dangerous girl, but after Day Wine and Tina, I think we might need Step 2 to be about Del Close and long form improvisation…  see the brilliant: https://www.amazon.com/Truth-Comedy-Improvisation-Charna-Halpern/dp/1566080037

And for hot-as-balls New Yorkers and thinkers everywhere, we need more of this guy from today’s Gothamist:

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Tomorrow: Step 3 – Time to Get Your Bourne on…  For now, stay rad.

XOXO – GG

 

The Dangerous Girl’s Guide to Well… Danger

cartoon by the incomparable Allie Brosh

 Are you all holding very still?  Well, stop it right this instant!

Yes, it’s been a while… A two-month hiatus during which I undertook a death march of work with all the discipline of a randy squirrel.

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Now, nearly every corner of the planet seems to be on fire . A sociopathic Cheeto is taking over the country to a Queen soundtrack, and we seem to be collapsing in on ourselves like a big black hole of horrifying irony that would stump even Stephen Hawking. A small, dangerous world it is…  replete  with #FamousMelaniaTrumpQuotes…

Here in the city, where it’s hot as balls… I am happy to report that New York’s finest has finally nabbed a character known only as Poop Guy. Yes, this was a guy who recently terrorized New Yorkers (specifically those on the Upper East side) by running up to them on the street and shoving a bag of poo down their snazzy Outdoor Voices yoga pants and screaming, “You’re a shitty person!”

He was apprehended without incident… no gun violence to speak of… no choke holds necessary. A shrink at Bellevue described him as “F*cking deranged” (a clinical DSM-5 term, no doubt) and everything went back to being simply on fire–minus the scat.

Is this all we’re good for? Why do we continue to hold still and do nothing? I feel like this is exactly the type of thing Elie Wiesel (RIP our hero of bearing witness) would say, “No way, Jose!” to… Don’t you?

I have never been one to shy away from embarrassing myself in front of ridiculously accomplished people… from revealing my stockpile of sins, shortcomings, bad grammar and neuroses like a scantily clad magician’s assistant  (breasts akin to Shar-Pei puppies). I propose we start spit balling… bigtime:

Step 1 – Day Wine and Difficult People

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I’ll be back with more tomorrow. Dangerous times call for dangerously thoughtful measures. For now, let’s all try to use our own words and remember… “It’s not them. It’s you.”

XOXO – GG

First Prince, Now Hodor… What Next?

Hello Lovelies,

Is it just hot as balls out, or what? A perfect day to binge watch by the AC while doing Blogilates on the side (anything to avoid the dreaded writer’s bum)

A bunch of you have written in to ask what I thought of Prince and then Game of Thrones last week… what with Hodor saving the day in an epic, grand mal time seizure in which he is trapped in a last-moment loop before his own horrible death.

I spend a lot of time these days thinking about how to transcend the niche of epilepsy. Either through humor, the personal essay or any kind of narrative…  and I can honestly say… I don’t know what I think. I cried with the rest of Gotham last Sunday night.

On the one hand, Hodor has been portrayed to us over the years as a giant broken simpleton–without high cognitive function. A person with no there, there. (And Bran has been a little turd to him all too often)

On the other, the joy of serialized TV is that with each episode, we, the viewers, are given the opportunity to constantly correct what we thought we knew and that’s super fun. Our curious human brains love it.

Last Sunday, we corrected our knowledge of Hodor’s inner life in a big way. For me, the real tragedy was that there was a there… there all along.

I want to believe the boundary between being able and disabled is becoming increasingly porous, but my concern is that without a horribly tragic demise… the respect, the tiny openings just aren’t there. I too chuckled at all the memes that followed GoT, but as an out spaz… I don’t want to be a doorstop… just because I’m still getting all my words back and am stuck in a bit of a time seizure, myself.

Hodor talk pretty some day?

Still noodling over it… Stay rad and cool. XOXO – GG

For more on the troubling ethics of Hodor… see this completely compelling piece in The Atlantic Monthly.

 

UnReal Estate… Or What to Do When Oscar Isaac Becomes Your Worst Nightmare!

Hello my  Lovelies!

I don’t know if it’s the weird weather out or the fact that I am crazy-close to finishing Project Ur (thank you very much Warren Ellis for that spiffy term) or if it’s just the current zeitgeist of the city… but I keep having THE WORST real estate dreams… No joke! In them, earnest hipsters with neatly trimmed triangle beards, and ominous cats keep chasing me all over the city… and NOT in a good way.

Last night, they chased me right out of my apartment to a Westin and then to an awful Marriott with nasty bedspreads (sorry Marriott brand). The desk clerk there was also an Oscar-type, and HE kept telling me that I was actually booked at a boutique hotel called The Lucky (some ACE poseur in my dream) but I couldn’t ever seem to find it. It was like The Walking Dead, but instead, the Oscar Isaacs all had these credentials and liquid assets… And they were way better writers.

My BFF Ed (depicted here below in dog form–whose dog is this, btw?) keeps telling me…

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I need to desensitize myself to the Game of Thrones that is New York real estate by listening to this podcast: There Goes the Neighborhood and that it’s just like check-in at an Italian airport… anything goes! To this I say…

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Thanks for allowing the dream rant… and thanks to all of those who wrote in last week agreeing that we SHOULD INDEED have Neil DeGrasse Tyson as a write-in running mate! It makes so much sense, right??? But how do you get creative with housing in our/your fair city when Oscar Isaac starts to give chase with a cat in hand? Drop me a line 🙂

Ok, back to Project UR… even though it’s cloudy out and there are buildings… make sure to wear sunscreen and be nice to each other. (I swear, you’ll thank me later.)

XOXO – GG