Typographic. Alphabet Bags

One of my absolute favorite under-the-radar lifemoments used to be when someone would call my name out loud.  In high school, just one hallway holler of  “MARSH!” and suddenly my whole head space was prepped, cleaned, and ready to host the world’s most epic sleepover.  In college, however, my friends and acquaintances seemed to prefer the rumblings of a really good full name, so my instant  mood elevator sounded a lot more like “Ehhhhhhmeeeeee MARSH!”  Nowadays though, living in a place full of strange and unfamiliar nobodies and somebodies, my goodtimes rarely originate in this way.  Of course there’s the occasional, ohmygodwhatareyoudoinghere, but actually recognizing a passing streetface and yelling his or her name out loud at full volume in the middle of the city seems to just thoroughly exceed almost everyone’s threshold for awkward terror (mine included). That’s why these made my day:
they’re kind of like those
shoutouts from my familiar.
totes! right back at ya.

you, me, & robin williams.

Together. Jennifer Nies
Lost Boys: ..Bangarang, Peter!
Rufio: ..You . . . you man! Stupid, stupid man!
Peter Banning: ..Rufio, if I’m a maggot burger why don’t you eat me?! You two-toned zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farming paramecium brain, munchin’ on your OWN mucus, suffering from Peter Pan envy!
Lost Boys: ..[chanting] .Banning, Banning, Banning is .B A N G A R A N G .!

– Hook, 1991

rhymes with ho.

Good Times. New York, NY

I never went to my senior prom.  I think I was too busy making just above minimum wage in the children’s literature department of an unnamed giant corporate bookstore or taking an obscene amount of time to choose a movie at Hollywood Video or road tripping through Midwestern suburbia to visit random cooljews.  Either way, I don’t really feel like I made THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE, but I have met several individuals long since I peaced the hell out of John Adams who have felt otherwise. G.OE.A.G.L.E.S..!
I’m inclined to think, however, that tonight’s culinary adventure might appease these winners (ie people who peaked in high school) because much like senior prom it will also include:
1. ..faux-comradery with people I will never see again
2. ..disappointment due to massive over-hype
3. ..the near impossibility of ever happening again
4. ..non-stop complaining about the cost
5. ..waking up day of with at least 1 unmanageable pimple
Well, this morning I woke up with 5, so don’t be too jealous that tonight I’m going

doctor demento.

Dr. Demento. Los Angeles, CA

On Wednesday nights at 6:45pm, I leave my small but totally worth it East Village apartment and spend roughly 1 hour on the streets/bus/subway so I can arrive at 168th & Broadway in time to teach improv comedy to Columbia Medical Students from 8pm to 9:30pm.  I usually don’t get back to my apartment until 10:45pm (mostly because I get off the bus at 14th & 3rd Ave and ceremoniously reward myself with a slice of awesome from Milk Bar) only to wake up the next morning at 5:45am so I can be out of my apartment by 6:20am to attend what is, without question, NYC’s finest spin class (Union Square Crunch w/ Ashley Swartz @ 7:00am = holiness next to godliness next to sweatiness).
Anyway, while the hike to Columbia Med can sometimes make my entire body explode with NY Transit overload, I keep going because it’s unbelievably rewarding and pretty much the only way I can convince my friend Chase to stop studying and hang out with me.  Also, there are some fantastic moments of unexpected improv GOLD like the one that happened last night around 9:15pm:
Me: ..This is a 1 min scene. Your inspiration is pumpkin pie and one of you must die.

Peter 1: ..Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Peter 2: ..What? What’s wrong?
Peter 1: ..I don’t know, but I made you this pie . . . WITH DYNAMITE!

Me: ..and scene.