Here are some recent essays of mine.
In the lightof the moona little Cheeto-colored egglay on a leaf.One Sunday morningthe yuge sun came up and—pfffth!Out of the egg came a very hungry cheetopillar.
One day we were sharing orange sherbet and a few weeks later I was staring at his coffin. I was so confused and angry that he’d abandoned me just before back-to-school haircut day.
There were wigs, beads, feather boas, and tutus. And a lot of tears.
It was all clean. I don’t know why she had to stage her own death just to prove a point.
On stage, the lines between what’s art and what’s inappropriate are hard to define. Especially in a profession where exposing our failures or our dirtiest secrets can lead to laughs, can lead to “success.” But the rules are pretty simple: Treat everyone kindly and keep your hands to yourself.