NEW STUFF.

 If you're new to this and haven't seen any of my stand-up you can find one such video here and the rest around that youtube channel: http://youtu.be/1GLQrqLy0lw










     Consider this post a trip to Jacobland. That'd be a pretty great place, by the way. If Jacobland were a country, it'd be a really impressive one. It's main exports would probably be lumber, salt, and cotton... excuse me, that's a typo there... it's main exports would be lumber, salt, and cotton candy. The main exports would be lumber, salt, and cotton candy. Also, our flag would be cotton candy. The logo for it and also the material that the flag would be made up of. Jacobland would be terrific.

Below is a play that I'm writing and this is all I have for it so far and I hope one day it will be complete and good and have seriously good writing in it:

PROTAGONIST: I'll never forget the day I got out of Juvie. They sent me home with my belongings and they even gave me this shitty, bizarre certificate of completion along with it. I don't know what me or my family is supposed to do with that. It ain't exactly going in a picture frame in the den, I know that much.

Below is a piece of non-fiction. It's all true and one of the first pieces of non-fiction I've written in forever. I hope you enjoy it:

Bus Rider.

      One time I was waiting for a city bus in New Haven and as I stood at the bus stop a pigeon walked up to me. I looked at it with a friendly gaze as if to say “Hey, pigeon. How's it going?” The pigeon didn't have anything to say to that. Oddly, though, the pigeon came so close to me that if it wanted the pigeon's beak could touch my shoelaces. Plus, of course, normally pigeon's are scared of people like cats are of water. It was odd. The way it stood near me was even hostile. Definitely hostile. It was as if the pigeon were saying “Bitch, get off my sidewalk.” I stood my ground, as if to say “But I need to be here, pigeon.” The pigeon stood its ground as if to say “Don't make me laugh, ya lanky Jew.” But I stood my ground as if to say “I'm going to catch this bus, pigeon. Don't cross me. Why would you pick on a defenseless teenager, anyway? What do you get out of it?” The pigeon mimicked me with “What do you get out of it?” and then coolly replied “Because practice makes perfect.” Unsatisfied, it added “You asshat.” Defensively and shrilly I replied “Well, I think I'm doing just fine.” Trying to ignore the hateful words that that pigeon very nearly said to me, I walked onto the city bus that just arrived. I looked back at the pigeon that was approaching this other pigeon as if to say “Hey! Aziz! Long time no see, man, how've you been?” or “Remember that time I pointed out that your socks didn't match and you didn't even realize it until I pointed it out to you? That shit was so funny. Uproarious, even.” or “Aziz, all these Jewish guys taking up our sidewalks is the worst thing since all those Jehovah's Witnesses taking up our sidewalks. G-d....” All I could tell is that pigeon had a lot of anxiety, instability , and a lot on its mind. Additionally, Aziz had a lot baggage to deal with. How else do you explain a pigeon with no fear of mortality and no sense of personal space or a pigeon that hangs around that pigeon?

      As it turned out-- because I was new to the city bus system-- I had hopped on the wrong bus. I had asked the bus driver if the bus went to Hamden, and the bus driver said yes, but as it turns out I should have asked the bus driver if the bus went to the Hamden plaza. I was on a bus that was heading miles away from my house and I needed to get home to my presumably worried family. I picture a mother with hand dramatically and concernedly placed on forehead. Ya know. That sort of shit.

      It was at this point in time I began wondering how Pigeon #1 and Aziz were doing. They had probably been good friends for a while, I imagine. They had probably even dated each other at some point. Maybe even last summer. I picture the two of them on a red-checked blanket perched on a lush, green hill with a tall glass of wine in each of their wings. Pigeon #1 probably said something like “Aziz-- I don't know about you-- but for me there are two times of the year: the summer... and the time I wish it was the summer.” Aziz probably agreed. Pigeon #1 said “Aziz, pass me a granola bar from the pigeon picnic basket, won't you?” (They have their own kind of picnic baskets.) Aziz did just that to which Pigeon #1 probably said “Aw man, this is the cinnamon kind of granola bar. I hate the cinnamon kind.” Aziz probably just sighed with a snide remark, like “Ugh... you're so fussy.” Pigeon #1 said “So?” Aziz replied “It just gets annoying after a while.” Pigeon #1 then probably went “You get annoying after a while. If you don't like it you can just leave here, and while you're at it leave the house and just move in with your G-ddamn parents.”

      I had talked with the bus driver a great deal at this point and she agreed to drop me off at the Dairy Queen two blocks from my home. What happened next was-- and this is absolutely true-- I ran into a friend at the counter of the Dairy Queen (apparently my friend Bee had had a job at Dairy Queen for a while and I just didn't know it) and she was nice enough to give me two free ice cream cones. Shortly thereafter I was able to get in touch with my mother and in the end I got home just fine. Sheesh, though. I just wish I could say the same for Pigeon #1 and Aziz.