"Boffo, Lenny. Socko, Lenny."

The Muppets Take Manhattan is on again. And I'm right at the part where Kermit is executing part one of his three-pronged strategy: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." I will fall asleep to its familiar intonations. A long, long time ago -- before there was a maryforrest.com, I was trying to think of a domain name that would be the essence of me. And I almost reserved the domain boffolennysockolenny.com, which is a reference to a line of Kermit's in the aforementioned feature film. The reason I did not is that I loathed the idea of having to spell it for everyone I ever said it to. The fact I did not proves that I am kind of a jerk and a loser when it comes to saying fuck everyone on account of my whimsical dreams. I should totally have just gotten that domain and made it bomb ass. Right?

I will fall asleep with little effort, I assume. I have been tired and bedraggled all day. I drank two sugar-free Red Bulls during my workshop today, and then I went to The Improv Olympic, where I was able to catch the last batch of shows in the last day of the festival. I met up with friends from my Tuesday workshop and ran into plenty of people in my Saturday UCB workshop and plenty of people from other workshops I've taken. What a glut of conglomeration that place is. It is something I dig. I think we began having cocktails at around five. And kept on keeping on long into the night. We watched the ASSSCAT and Beer Shark Mice shows. Ian Roberts was wearing the same shirt he wore when teaching my workshop this afternoon. And Neil Flynn appeared to have been wearing the same outfit he wore when he performed in my spec script reading last year. I do not mention this to be critical. I mention it because it sometimes even surprises me how closely I pay attention to what people wear. Even when I have no reason to log the data. I remember all sorts of details about what people were wearing. I remember a disturbing amount of detail about what I was wearing. In almost every circumstance. Even well before I began documenting nearly every day's outfiture (a word I just made up) with my various cameras. It is not uncommon for me to wear at least two different ensembles in the course of a single day. And by "at least," I mean sometimes it's more. And by "more," I mean sometimes it's ridiculous. Anyway, I guess it's a mnemonic device. I mark things visually. I picture stuff. I remember things in their place. When I can't find something, I can sort of close my eyes and divine my way back to it by remembering what I was doing and where I was going when I last had it in hand. Today it happened with a lipstick. I found it right next to the DVD player in my bedroom. And I totally remember exactly how it got there.

I'm happy to be back in Los Angeles. It's not that New York isn't full of things to be excited about. But I didn't really get to experience many of them. And the weather made me happy to come home to my un-air-conditioned apartment. It may get hot here very soon. But I will remember those days on the sidewalks of the Lower East Side, and I will notice that -- as hot as it ever gets here -- it hardly ever smells so strongly of turnips. Anyway, I'm glad to be back. The weather here has been stunning and lovely, and I have been comfortable in my clothes. And even though I feel a great push and pull on me at the moment, and even though my discombobulation appears to be temporarily unfixable by Red Bull, Jameson, or starvation, I have faith that it will abate, and I'm not so impatient that I can't sit still in the meantime.

By eleven, I had to make plans to go somewhere food would be served. So Jessie and I went to the Rustic, and Jeff met us there, and then Tim and Phil showed up a while later. Everything I tried to order could not be had, so I ended up having a burger which -- while admittedly delicious -- was not at all what I had in mind. And then I had to taxi everyone home, and that was a surprise to me. But the end result is I made it home all right, and I'm tired and ready for whatever comes next. And I have no problem falling asleep to Kermit The Frog. Partially because, when I close my eyes, I sort of pretend he's Ernie. And that makes for all the lullaby I need.

I like to wear horizontal stripes. I always have.