good morning, blog

Oh, my dears, my lovelies,

Can I tell you how grateful I am for my life? I am grateful that after a failed company, a stolen car, a bootstrapped move to New York, and other indignities best glossed over in this post, I have a comedy career and I live in New York and people show up to see my shows and, despite hours a day spent on public transportation, from job to job to show to far-uptown abode, I always somehow press forward; even my metabolism has sped up, and the cold I used to find enervating and unbearable is now just "bracing" as some interal motor runs and burns and heats itself, and when I'm carrying a passel of unusual objects and the subway is standing-room-only and my knee has been busted up from a cab, I simply look down at the soft and squishy souls on the bench and think to myself "You, mere mortals, grow weak, while I am building monumental thigh muscles which someday will allow me to defeat you and your clan in battle."

I'm grateful for diners and diner counters, where one can sit alone and unbothered, without taking up too much space, and I'm even grateful for the Spanish-omelet-and-cup-of-soup special of which I availed myself today, because those were just the items I wanted, but I would have considered it too extravagant to order them separately.

And I'm grateful that the universe can just bump me with a cab -- give me a split-second glimpse into bright-yellow oblivion -- and then say "Oh, not you, not yet -- but watch yourself, woman!"

The universe has been like a kid who punches me in the arm and runs away.

Okay, in the knee.

I was never good at metaphors.

xo,
Jen