Leavitt's Malady

Leavitt's Malady from Erik Leavitt on Vimeo.


On July 3rd, one day before I dug deep into my pockets and bought America a birthday cake, I performed at Bodega Wine Bar.  This officially marks my first performance in a space that doesn't prominently feature either a couch or a plasma screen.  I'm moving up in the world.

Somehow I'd forgotten about the events within the story told here until a few weeks ago, presumably because my brain treated it the same way a child's does sexual abuse.  I don't exactly know what that says about the shame I should feel about the actions described herein, other then that there should be a lot of it. so, you know, mission accomplished there.

You can hear more stories like this at the Bodega wine Bar's monthly storytelling series, which you can find out more about here.

BBQ Stands for Better Banter Quality

So this is happening.  Another super-secret performance, which means another super-public recording to be posted here.  If things go as planned (and by planned I mean I've thought about this and put in very little work) this may be the craziest combination of story and gimmick yet.  Stay tuned, true believers.

Coming Soon: Audio from the Bodega Monthly

"Live storytelling returns….Whether they are true or fictitious, funny or sad, these tales will grab your interest and won’t let go. Coming to you live from the main stage to you our captive audience uncut and uncensored. This month, guest host, Allen Norvick welcomes to the stage Gerry Seidman, Sean Alday, Ryan Paulson, Michael Lala and Erik Leavitt to entertain and enlighten. Come join us for Brooklyn’s fastest growing storytelling event!"

That's right. I "enlightened and entertained" at The Bodega Monthly just a few short hours ago, all while shirtless men threw M-80s at passing cars (presumably they demonstrated their patriotism by only throwing them at foreign cars). And soon we will have the audio from said event posted here, so prepare your ears to start vomiting onto your brains when I mistake a teratoma for a regular old tumor. Cram that in your birthday hole and smoke it, America.