Tag Archives: dentist


The shoe store sends little cards that say: “Your child saw us last three months ago. Growing feet need regular attention.” . And the dentist says: “Your last checkup was six months ago. Will you call for an appointment?” . But doctors don’t do this. And why not? “We haven’t heard from you since we […]

NOT WHAT YOU THINK–Being Yourself Isn’t as Easy as You Always Assumed

Dear Friends, Adversaries, Acquaintances, and Strangers:                                              (I believe that takes in everyone.)   This is a journey in search of identity, which sometimes isn’t what we think.   We begin in New York […]


THE BAD DATE   (They sit at a table in a restaurant. She puts her drink down.)   Cary: My father’s a dentist.   John: He named you for a cavity???   Cary: !!!   (Blackout.)

NOT WHAT YOU THINK – A Journey in Search of Identity (rev.)

    It’s Washington Square Park, a damp and cloudy Sunday– noon, but no one’s around.   I open my lunch, the remains of last night’s Indian dinner, wrapped in rumpled foil— a scrap of flatbread and a half-eaten hunk of tandoori chicken.     Two neatly dressed people come by on their church’s mission […]


  The dentist, having filled my tooth, tousled my hair. I had not had my hair tousled since—well, in fact, I couldn’t remember ever having had my hair tousled. I don’t mean having someone romantically run her fingers through my hair. That kept happening.   I mean the way a grown-up chuckles and does it […]

Me as Dentist

Filmed just three days ago, this comedy video (co-starring young comic Josh Rabinowitz) gave me a chance to play a dentist, which in fact was not a dream of mine. But work is work. http://goodcopgreatcop.com/video/gBFDBZ0caU0/teeth/ After a year at Upright Citizens Brigade (in a play that was on just once or twice a month), I […]

NOT WHAT YOU THINK – Around New York, Clarifying Identity

A cloudy, damp Sunday in Washington Square—noon, but no one’s around. I’m early for a film shoot, my lunch the foil-wrapped remains of last night’s Indian meal—flatbread and half-eaten hunk of tandoori chicken. Two neatly dressed people, on their church’s mission to feed the homeless, offer me— in my old jeans and windbreaker, with food […]