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

Well, well, well… Look at you!

I can’t believe I got to DO this! I recently sat down with comedian Jessimae Peluso host of the infamous Sharp Tongue podcast, episode #150… A tiny caveat that shouldn’t dissuade you from listening… this podcast contains salty language, so just please make sure to put your headphones on at work. We talked about everything from epilepsy to anxiety to Greta Gerwig. I even yodeled for this woman (c’mon, who wouldn’t?) all in support of epilepsy and my silly book GOTHAM GIRL, INTERRUPTED which, to be honest, is a little Lenny Bruce Meets Epilepsy. That said, were there ever to be a TV series based on my silly book, I’d want this lady in the writers’ room because she is wicked funny.

Thanks again to Jessimae and to her sponsor Hakuna Supply. – XOXO – Gotham Girl

Girl Meets Dirt

Hello, Lovelies, How the hell are you?

Greetings from the burning world… Yes, I’m coming to you live from the charred hinterlands of Shasta, California not far from the Oregon border—a place that feels like the way-way back of the region’s old-school family station wagon. I’m here writing about the apocalyptic wildfires from which many are still recovering, where makeshift tents, trailers, and rickety shacks pepper the blackened, wool-folded mountains. Everywhere you look… there’s just SO. MUCH. DIRT. I thought New York was dirty, but I’m wrong. I’m sure we all walk around with a fine coating of fecal matter on our face’s every day but it’s nothing like this. The other eerie thing… There are no birds.

To put a cherry on top of the irony sundae that is my all-too-meta-meta-life right now… The house I am staying in also caught fire this morning. Something to do with improper dishwasher wiring. It’s fine now, but for a stretch there, my audio cortices were tortured by way too many white guys grunting and arguing about what had actually gone awry. Much like an impacted wisdom tooth, there was the surgical removal of the troublesome appliance, followed by the sharp ka-thud of its carcass in the front yard. All the while, I’m yawning at them on the deck under a yolk-yellow sun, a sliver of belly smiling out from between my shrunken yoga top and flannel pajama bottoms. I never thought (of all people) I would tire of handsome firefighters, but I’m closing in. Mostly, I just want things to stop being on fire—my brain included—I am 82 days seizure-free.

One thing I never realized is how long the smoke and fire continue after a blaze is reported as being “contained”. It’s a totally Wagnerian aria of chainsaws, chippers, and heavy machinery. The process of controlled burning, bulldozing, tree-falling, land scraping, soil testing, and hydroseeding required to rebuild even smallest structure can feel eternal—it’s like the effing Ring Cycle. People are working crazy-hard. There’s a strength in them that feels bred-in-bone.

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Another consequence of the wildfires is that with the sudden presence of all the federal, state, and local officials, a whole host of once-hidden felons and petty criminals comes out of the woodwork—primarily because there is so much actual woodwork to do. Once thick with evergreens and generations of belligerence, you come to this part of the world to get lost and stay lost. Now it’s a mostly barren wasteland. Even the few trees left feel oddly temporary. Just here for a quick visit. There’s also a distinctly Carl Hiaasen-esque Florida vibe to the place. I keep waiting for an ornery redneck to jump out from one of the remaining shrubs with a decapitated Rottweiler head attached to his arm with some sort of rural tomfoolery in mind.

In other news, I’ve been working in an old garden shed that’s quite possibly the dirtiest, most delightful place I’ve ever worked. I may build my own when I finally get back to New York. In the meantime, I will be in Los Angeles tomorrow. If any of you lovelies happen to be in the area, I will be signing books at the National Walk to End Epilepsy on Feb 2 at the Rose Bowl. Details to follow!

Stay rad & stay safe! xoxo – Gotham Girl

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Featured photo courtesy of Jeremy Bishop