Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

July 1, 1997
New York
We did a read-through of the play for fifteen people from Lincoln Center and when we finished,
John, the man in charge of the festival, stood up, saying, “Well, I don’t care what anyone says. I liked
it.”
Afterward I walked through the park for a while, thinking. On my way back home a woman, very
thin with a missing front tooth, entered my subway car and said, “Can I please get a little fucking
attention?” When no one looked up, she called us a bunch of stuck-up snobs. “You’ll give money to
those other bitches. You’ll help them but not me, so fuck you.”
She got up in someone’s face and the young woman gave her money, as did the next person she
confronted. “Well, that’s just fucking great,” the woman said. “Fucking great, shitheads.”
July 6, 1997
New York
Last week Amy gave Hugh and me a large plastic tankard of industrial cooking oil for deep-fat
frying and this afternoon I carried it to the Laundromat, having mistaken it for the nearly identical
tankard of detergent—same size, same color. The only difference was the spout. That’s what stopped
me from pouring a cupful of it into the top of the machine. If I had, the best thing to do would have
been to walk away, buy new clothes and sheets and towels, and never return to that Laundromat again.
I’m guessing stuff would be pretty much ruined after going through an oil cycle.
July 11, 1997
New York
Last night was one of the happiest of my life. The play was sold out, every seat taken, with folding
chairs set up at the back of the theater. I had no idea our Times review was out until Amy called to tell
me about it. Then I heard from Drew, the choreographer, who read it out loud to me before I could
stop him. It’s as if I wrote it myself as a joke. They mentioned Hugh’s set and his inventive direction.
“Vulgarity just shouldn’t be this funny, but it’s being ridiculed, reveled in.”
Really, we ridiculed it?
I hoped they’d praise all the actors equally, and it hurts that they left out Toby and Sarah. I can’t
understand their choices, but it’s a glowing review. After last night’s performance, the Lincoln Center
Festival people took us to dinner at a swank restaurant. I was so certain this play would fail.
July 28, 1997
New York