Bourbon Cowboy

The adventures of an urbane bar-hopping transplant to New York.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I'm a storyteller in the New York area who is a regular on NPR's "This American Life" and at shows around the city. Moved to New York in 2006 and am working on selling a memoir of my years as a greeting card writer, and (as a personal, noncommercial obsession) a nonfiction book called "How to Love God Without Being a Jerk." My agent is Adam Chromy at Artists and Artisans. If you came here after hearing about my book on "This American Life" and Googling my name, the "How to Love God" book itself isn't in print yet, and may not even see print in its current form (I'm focusing on humorous memoir), but here's a sample I've posted in case you're curious anyway: Sample How To Love God Introduction, Pt. 1 of 3. Or just look through the archives for September 18, 2007.) The book you should be expecting is the greeting card book, about which more information is pending. Keep checking back!

Monday, October 08, 2007

We Killed in New Haven

New Haven was wonderful. I got to meet other great storytellers, got to sit next to an actual actress/storyteller I like (Joanna Gleason, from Crimes and Misdemeanors and about a hundred other things), and on top of everything else I got paid to do it. But the best thing was the crowd. I told my story of "The Most Heartwarming Wet T-Shirt Contest Ever" and it killed like nothing I've ever told before in any other crowd. I would crack a joke and a wall of laughter appeared. I pushed against it slightly with a philosophical note, and the people moved back and thought. I added a funny aside, and they laughed again, and waited for my next move forward. It was amazing. I've never felt so in control of a performance and at the same time so overwhelmed by my oneness with an audience. Another top ten life experience. (Another great thing was meeting and hanging out with my dear friend Dani, but that's a tad more personal.)

The downside: After Friday, my sleep schedule was so fucked up that I was still recovering, and staying out late with Dani and fellow storyteller Paul Bacon didn't help. The next day, after we boarded the train, I stumbled home and slept until 3 p.m., then woke with every muscle throbbing in weariness. Really, it was all I could do to prop myself up and watch "The Office" and some Netflix (Silk Stockings, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir) until about 8, at which point it was tough to get anything done. So I'm definitely swearing off Paxil and its evil, sleep-wrecking ways until I get this book done. Damn.

I hope to post a version of "The Story I Told This Weekend" soon.



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