I have been assigned the daunting task of writing a play concerning the Sloth, as a sin, not necessarily the claw-ed creature that lays before you. Terrifying. Wow.
But – an apathetic google-thon of the word ‘Sloth’ has taken me through 3 lazy hours of  Proverbs, explanations, and facts. I found some schmoe’s blog concerning the RIGHTS of sloths – he took personal offense, on behalf of the greater good of the Sloth population – that such negativity had been assigned to their namesake. ‘Sloths are extremely resilient creatures,’ he exclaims! ‘They are preyed on by eagles and jaguars and the like!’

Mayhaps if some were to sic a jaguar on Bekah Sloth Brunstetter, I might be able to penetrate this grossly thick haze that is blocking my writer brain. It’s serious. I haven’t had a creative thought in circa a week. I can only think: I put a sloth in a room. The Sloth smokes cigarettes and watches the stray kittens chew each other out back. Outside, the world is ending. But the sloth just sloths about, being sloth-like. Enter Django Reinhardt. He hangs out. They make tacos and talk about taxes.

More importantly, see, you can be entirely busy, busy busy busy (see Bekah Brunstetter) but STILL be  a Sloth. This particular explanation of the sin really stuck out to me. You can be doing doing doing, but are you doing RIGHT? Are you doing the things you are MEANT to be doing? See Bekah. See Spiritual and Emotional Laziness, a general state of numb. See my next play, starring Django Reinhardt. See the utter death of my celebrity play, and my half-assed ideas. I want to write a play with all men in a prison. The maintenance staff of a Luxury Building, downstairs in the dungeon. I need to write a movie. I need to wash my hair.

Oh, fyi, this mental paralysis MAY have been caused by the fact that this week, I finally got hired. I officially am now a Person with Job Person. Despite the ginormous financial advantage this will give me, despite the privilege of teeth cleans and twat checks and regular professional opinions from upper east side doctors regarding whether or not I’ve inherited anemia from my grandmother, I feel unsatisfied. As per usual, see Bekah get what she wants and no longer want it At All.

Lastly, it’s raining.

Super lastly, this:


Yeah, so. Sloths. I’ll see you on Broadway.

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